Why Me?

Chapter Sixteen

The interrogation

I swung my legs rhythmically, watching Wyatt refocus the camera onto another one of his projects for a client. It was some weird combination of possessions: a teddy bear, a fedora, a flowy floral scarf, and a pocket watch. I had been trying to figure out what it could be for the past thirty minutes. A weird artistic statement? A sentimental portrait? Only those two conclusions made sense. I was holding back my tongue so I wouldn't disturb Wyatt, but the curiosity was killing me.

"What's this for?" I asked. He snapped one more photo before looking to me, standing straight. He grimaced, a pained look coming across his face. I had a feeling my sentimental guess wasn't going to be too far off.

"My buddy Rich; his family died in a car accident a few months ago. He wanted one last picture with them, and this was the only way he could think. He gathered an item that each of them cared about most, his own fedora, his wife's scarf, his daughter's bear, his son's pocket watch, and he asked me to take a picture of them like it was a family portrait," he explained. I was covering my mouth in shock by the time he finished. That was the worst possible thing that could have just come from his mouth. I knew should have just kept quiet. I winced, rubbing at my neck awkwardly.

"God... I'm sorry. Is he alright?" I asked. He shrugged.

"I'm not sure. I wouldn't imagine so. I can't imagine what it would feel like to lose the one you love, much less yourown children, he said. I nodded, my eyes lifting to him. I couldn't imagine losing the one I loved either, and I didn't want to even try. Before I could contribute, his phone rang.

He clicked it open to his ear. "Hello?" There was a pause in which his eyebrows shot up, a surprised, but pleased, expression crossing his features. His lips quirked a bit in a short smile, a shrug of his shoulders as a response to the person on the other end.

His eyes slid to me, and his smile grew, a soft chuckle at his lips. I smiled back, not able to really help it.

"I already have plans tonight. Thank you for the offer, though," he said. He nodded, smiling, looking into space from me. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

As he clicked the phone shut, I jumped down from his desk and walked over, giving him a curious smile as he looked at me with a bit of excitement.

"Who was that?" I asked.

"Another professor from the history department. Arabella. She wanted to know if I would to go to the pub with her and some others," he said. I grinned, playfully pushing his shoulder.

"Look who's making friends. It wasn't so bad, huh?" I asked, crossing my arms proudly.

"I wouldn't call them friends. I only talked to them a few times, and only on campus," he said, glancing around with asigh. He shrugged. I raised my brows at him, making a stern face. He smirked.

"You will make friends here, Mr Wyatt MacNeill, no matter how much you want to avoid it," I said. He raised his own brows, his smirk widening, and stepped closer to me. I lifted my chin, keeping up my no nonsense demeanour.

"And how are you doing at that yourself? I don't see you going out with any mates to the pub," he said, cocking his head pointedly. I faltered a bit, caught in my own fault, but quickly built myself up again.

"I have gone places with friends. Friends from the agency," I pointed out. He shrugged it off, stepping closer and reaching out to me, putting his hands on my hips. I narrowed my eyes, fighting to keep the serious attitude. He stepped slightly closer