Why Me?

Chapter Eleven

I Miss You

Things were looking up. I had a group of friends. Friends. Actual friends! Maya and I are already close, and it has only been a few days since we first met each other. We were oddly alike even though we were, at first blush, complete opposites. She was Indian and I was Scottish. I wore quite stereotypically feminine clothes with plenty of soft colors and textures, and she was more of a masculine type of feminine. I was an A type personality, she was a B type personality.

Other than Maya, I had met Eliott, Malcolm, and Adam at the agency. They were the three men that Mark was talking to, my three other floor-mates. Eliott was the clean-cut, classy, male I had seen that day, but I was surprised to find that he was the most down to earth and, to put

lightly, blunt person in the group. Malcolm was a sweet-heart, his ruddy cheeks that stood out as his most prominent feature living up to his bubbly and warm personality.

He was always happy, smiling every minute of everyday, always able to find something positive in everything. Adam was even quieter and shyer than I was, constantly hiding behind something. I don't think I have ever seen much more than his eyes at once, which were the prettiest silver-blue you'd ever see.

Because I had such a strong group of personalities to back me up, I found it easier and easier to ignore Delilah, even as she seemed to be getting more violent with her statements. They were morphing from poking fun at me for her usual delusions to things about me, about my

physical flaws... so far.

I hoped she would just get bored and leave me alone as I was doing my best to just brush her off and not give her my time of day, but she was as stubborn and persistent as a pesky fly who is set on landing on a sweet sticky bun.

That was one of the things that wasn't really looking up. The other was... well... I had been staring at the doorknob to Wyatt's room for a few minutes now, clutching the thick binder holding the weeks assignments at both the agency and for his class. I would just go in, hand him the binder, and leave.

I had scheduled a lunch with my group at noon, which was... I glanced at my watch... which was in fifteen minutes. I sighed, my heart rate high sweat beading on my brow. It was now or never. I finally pushed the door open, peeking timidly around the structure until they landed on the figure hunched over his desk.

Wyatt looked up from his desk as my eyes landed on him, his expression one of incomprehension. The second his eyes met mine, it was as if he were slapped in the face. His jaw tightened, his spine straightened, and his eyes brightened with emotion that I didn't have time to analyze. I slipped into the room, making him stand. I gulped and started towards his desk, going for the front of it. He rounded it and met me there, eyes glued to me as if he were expecting more than what I intended.

Wordlessly, I handed him the binder, already turning to leave. But he didn't grab the binder. His hand lifted and grabbed my wrist, holding on firmly, but gently. I felt every muscle in my body stiffen at the touch, my eyes going wide, my pulse increasing to more beats per second than

felt natural. I couldn't look at his face.

I was scared, but not of him. I would never be scared of him. I was confused as to what it was that caused this internal reaction. It might have been myself, and my lack of ability to trust myself around him.

As he spoke, he tugged me, inch by inch, closer and closer to him, until I was standing between his knees, my eyes on his chin, each of his hands now gripping each of my wrists. He fell silent, his grip on my wrists squeezing slightly before one hand let go and reached, moving

slowly and carefully as if he were scared to frighten or break me, to touch my chin and turn my face to be parallel with his. My eyes finally met his.

I felt a chill go through me, the reality of how close we were finally hitting me. I could see every flaw on his face: his pores, the slight bags under his eyes, the stray hairs from his eyebrows, the slight sheen of natural oil on his skin. I also saw the beauty: the exact curve of his nose, the strength of his brow and the line of his jaw, the shine of his eyes. His eyes, Branching waves of green bursting from the black depths of his pupil, flakes of gold and blue subtly mixed within the jungle of color. They were like stars, like gems, and they shone with glassy tears that were ready to leak over and drip down his red tinged cheeks.

My heart ached, and I wasn't sure if it were from the lump forming in my throat and the water flowing to my eyes or from how fast it was beating. Wyatt sniffed, adjusting his position and tugging me a bit closer by consequence. My heart skipped a beat by consequence.

"I miss you," he repeated, his voice a soft whisper, slightly raspy, his breath fanning over my face in a warm gust. His thumb gently stroked along my jaw. I was frozen, not knowing what to do or say. I had never been in this situation. I had never had someone hold me like this, or look at me like this, or talk to me like this.

I had never wanted anyone to either, but now... I was terrified. I was terrified because I wanted him to hold me, to hold me forever, and the unfamiliarity of those desires made me want to curl up and push him away. My head was spinning in confusion.

He was moving, leaning closer, his hand on my chin slowly crawling across my jaw. My breath stopped, and it took me a second to regain it at which a sound blurted from between my lips without my control.

"Mr Mac Neill," I said, quiet but not whispering, my voice nervous and surprised.

He woke up in an instant, finally letting go of me as if he were shocked by an electrical current. I stepped away quickly, finding the room was burning hot and I was the furnace. Wyatt stared at me, stoic shock on his face, his eyes showing pain. Then he shivered, looking away from me as he shuddered, and began rubbing at his eyes and face.

"Shit... I'm sorry," he said, tired and drained again. I hesitated, gripping onto my binder with white knuckles and sweaty palms. Wyatt sighed, pausing, his hands over his face, before standing and rounding his desk. He opened a drawer. "l'll go to the president about this, and we'll work out a schedule change. Maybe l'll be able to switch schools-'

"Don't leave," I blurted out, a tear slipping down my cheek, quickly followed by another. Wyatt looked up at me, his expression falling to pure exhaustion and sorrow. He bit his lip, dropping his stuff and rubbing at his cheeks, sighing. "Noelle, you don't need to protect me. I know you're scared, and I'm abusing my power. I'm making you uncomfortable and I'm getting too inappro-" I cut him off as I rushed forward and kissed his cheek.

It was his turn to freeze up, staring into space for a second or two as I backed up, awkwardly shuffling my feet, my fingers playing with the edges of my binder. Then he smiled, his eyes flashing to meet mine. I instantly became a furnace again, my face the source of the flame.

With even more awkward movement, I held my work out to him. The second his fingers closed around the plastic, I turned and rushed out, my face burning hotter and hotter. I was desperate for some cool air, and I got it as a smack of cold wind hit me when I burst from the room.
I stood there, staring at the courtyard as the door swung closed behind me. Then I smiled.