Wyatt

Women.

I swear, I could live a thousand lifetimes in a convent or a sorority, and I'd still never understand what makes them tick. I'd never learn to read the shit they hide between the lines when they speak, spending hours dissecting the hidden meanings with their friends.

How the phrase 'I like your new shoes' could mean you actually like them, or you can't believe they'd buy something so odious, only to be deciphered by the tone and word choice.

I think being a girl sucks, which is why I'm gonna give Colby some much-needed grace.

I can understand how she would misread what she witnessed between me and Wynona— a whole lotta nothing if you're Wynn or me. But Colby watched us dance and certainly saw us enjoying ourselves. When she approached, she got nothing but attitude from Wynn, who also failed to deny any of the accusations Colby was tossing our way. Adding to that equation is the fact that Wynn has essentially ignored her for a solid two weeks. The sum total of all those loosely connected circumstances: chick fight.

And I can assure you, all those damn movies painting that scenario as every boys' dream are BS.

Colby and I move several dozen yards away from the makeshift dance floor, seeking some much-needed privacy just inside the tree line. A bolt of lightning streaks across the sky in the distance, illuminating the outlines of the trees for a brief, flashing moment, and I see the hurt in her eyes. I know, just like she does, that the tenuous grasp we have on each other could slip away far too easily.

"What was that back there?" I ask, turning her toward me.

"Why don't you tell me?" she returns. Her words are cool, her tone even, but I know better. She's smoldering with barely contained anger and frustration, boiling just beneath her carefree façade. She raises her chin expectantly, arms folded.

"That was me helping out a friend, Colby, nothing more," I say, mildly irritated. I'm acutely aware of what she's insinuating and it's insulting. She of all people should recognize that Wynn and I have only ever been friends. Will only ever be friends. "That's more than I can say for you and Cole."

She looks stricken, and I know right away that I'm the biggest asshole in Tyler. Colby isn't mine and can date whomever she pleases. And the truth is, she really didn't have a choice in that stunt he pulled tonight. Everyone in that stadium knew it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," I say as I attempt to pull my stupid size thirteen foot outta my damn mouth.

"It's okay. You're right," she concedes, hastily looking away in embarrassment. "I've been stringing him along for weeks, and we were becoming more than friends. It wasn't right. That's over now though."

What?

"What do you mean over?" I ask, and I can only pray she means what I think she does.

"I won't be seeing him anymore," she confirms. "He's not who I want to be with."

I can feel every inch separating us—too many. I take a step closer, tipping her chin upward with my index finger. Her eyes are bright, shining with tears that she doesn't bother trying to hide.

"B," I breathe. My eyes drop to her parted lips, and I'm consumed with a desperation I haven't felt for years—the kind of desperation that no amount of meaningless flings can possibly satisfy. It's a need that can only be fixed one way.

"What do you want," I finally manage.

"You," she whispers without hesitation. "This." She places her hands on my hips, drawing me nearer. A tear slides down her cheek, and I wipe it away with the pad of my thumb, our gazes locked. Her hands shift, moving deliberately up my frame and coming to rest on my shoulders. "It's what I want, but what about you?" Her features form a mix of longing and regret.

Yet, all I can see is the promise of us—the fulfillment of a destiny that was temporarily derailed due to our mutual stubbornness and insecurity. It isn't too late.

My fingertips lightly trace her collarbone, brushing over the necklace that holds a physical token of my devotion to her. My hand closes around it, tugging the metal free of Colby's neck. She gasps as the slender chain falls, swinging from my fist.

"I want..." I swallow hard, sliding the pearl ring from the silver necklace. "I want you to wear our commitment where everyone can see it again."

"Please," she utters, pulling her hand from my shoulder and fanning her fingers before me. I place it carefully on her ring finger. Right where it's always belonged.

I wrap my arms around her, spinning a circle like one of those ridiculous, triumphant movie scenes. Only for us, it's perfect.

"Baby," I say quietly into her ear, and she giggles. "I've missed you."

She leans away, her eyes meeting my own, and I know what she wants because I want it, too. I bend, wrapping my hands around the backs of her knees and pulling her legs around my waist. She clasps her arms tightly around my neck, bringing her forehead to mine. The space between us is non-existent.

"I've missed you too, Dodge," she sighs, our noses brushing. I breathe her in, the smell of her, the feel of her, intoxicating.

Her lips skim over mine, teasing me. I slide a hand slowly over the length of her thigh and up her spine, lacing my fingers into her long silky hair, the other hand on the exposed skin at the small of her back.

"Never again," she whispers against my mouth. "I've been a mess without you."

"Now you're my mess," I say, biting at her lower lip.

"Mmm..." She exhales heavily, moving her hands up my neck. She settles her palms just under my jaw, trembling as she works to pull herself closer, even though closer can't really be achieved. There's no difference between us— where I end, she begins.

I tip her face toward mine, bringing our mouths together for the first time in far too long. I'd never imagined it could be possible, but it's better than before. All of our history, all of our heartbreak and stupidity leading to this moment, erasing the hurt and the bitterness with one taste of her beautiful lips.

It's effortless between us, her tongue sliding over mine, setting my body alight. I'm grateful that both of my hands are occupied, so she won't feel them shaking. My mouth moves against hers greedily, and I'm struggling to pace myself. Doing things right this time is essential, but every ounce of my being wants every ounce of hers.

"Dodge," Colby breathes, dropping deadly little kisses over my jaw. "How did it take us so long to get back here?"

"I dunno, B," I say, burying my face in the crook of her neck. I nip at the delicate skin there, and she shivers. Our kisses become frantic when I push her against the tree behind her, and I feel every part of her respond, as desperate for me as I am for her in this moment.

The torrential deluge pouring forth from the sky brings an abrupt end to our delirious reunion. I knew we were in for a storm tonight, but never could've anticipated the tempest of raw emotion and brutal honesty that would precede it.

"How's that for a nice cold shower," Colby says, grinning from ear to ear. She's clinging to me, her fists holding tightly to my shirt, legs wound securely around my waist. I shake my head, smiling at the absurdity of it all before helping her down from where I had her pressed against the tree.

"We better get outta here before the thunder rolls in," I say grabbing her hand. We race through the frigid rain, sliding every so often on patches of mud. The amount of precipitation that's already fallen is astounding. When we reach the party grounds, it's a ghost town, all of our classmates having scattered. A few remain, gathering their sopping wet belongings to tote to their awaiting vehicles.

"I'll drive you home," I holler, not wanting her alone in this downpour. "We'll come back for your car tomorrow."

"Alright!" she squeals, suddenly slipping and falling to the sodden earth, even though my hand is gripping hers.

"Damn, B, are you alright?" I ask, peering down at my mud-covered girl. I wait for her to find her footing before I attempt to pull her up.

"I'm fine, babe," she responds. "Just gimme your other hand."

I do as she instructed, only to find myself being pulled down on top of her.

"What the hell!" I grunt, and she laughs right in my face. I can't help but grin as I take in her mischievous smile, her sparkling eyes. I feel so alive with her, and I never want it to end.

"Dirty boy," she croons, smearing a palm full of mud to my cheek.

"I was just being a gentleman!" I say, doing my best to look stern and failing miserably. I respond in kind, smearing a handful of mud across her forehead.

"Like you always are," she says, running a hand through my soaked hair.

"I never stopped loving you, you know," I admit, a bit startled by my own hasty confession.

"I'm always gonna love you, Wyatt Loring Matheson," she says shyly. "That'll never change."