Chapter 32

"Love your enemies, for they tell you your faults."

Benjamin Franklin.

"Hey," Wyatt grins, brushing his hair aside. "Can I come in?"

Dumbfounded and honestly quite bewildered, I take a deep breath, fanning myself as I feel a rush of heat in my body. Resting on the beige doorframe, I repeatedly blink, disbelieving the sight I am seeing. Biting my lips and clasping my hands in front of me, I open my mouth several times and unfortunately for me, nothing comes out. Although I try time and time again, the same results occur and I make an attempt to deal with my miscommunication and distress, hoping my thoughts will turn into an audible remark, instead of a peculiar set of mannerisms.

Waiting patiently, Wyatt quietly sniggers behind his large hands. Shaking his head, he offers me the bouquet, grinning at my confusion and fluster. Raising my eyebrows in a questionable way, I instinctively take the flowers from him and smell them. The sweet scent seems to surround me, my senses at peace with the lovely aroma. Feeling the petals between my forefinger and thumb, I take pleasure in the soft texture and lovely colour.

Moments after my little distraction, I glance at the perfect boy, his eyes filled with joy, an indication that he's happy that I'm happy. Staring at each other, taking each other in, I clear my throat, quickly looking down and running my hands through my hair. Laughing, Wyatt asks his question again and I hastily usher him inside, apologising for my stupidity as I lock the front door.

"It's okay," he smiles. "You were just enjoying your gift. I could've watched you all day if we had the time."

"What do you mean?" I quiz.

Rolling his eyes, Wyatt holds my hand, guiding me to the sofa. Sitting down, he doesn't let go of my hand. In fact, he does the opposite, caressing it and even observing my wrists to see that I'm wearing his bracelet. The one he gave me when my parents invited his family to dinner. Just like I did, he traces our names, which are carved into one of the charms.

"I'm taking you out, Val," he says, flipping my hand over and running his fingers along the palm lines.

"What?!" I exclaim in shock.

"I'm taking you out," Wyatt reiterates, looking me in the eyes. "We'll be gone for a few hours since it's out of town. Is that alright with you?"

Closing my eyes, I go over the choices I have, even though I know which one I want to pick.

"Valentina, what's going on?" Mother asks as she walks into the living room. Immediately, she spots Wyatt. "Oh hi, Wyatt!"

"Hey Mrs Blue," he replies with a firm nod.

"What are you doing here?" Mother asks as she wipes her hands on her apron.

"I'm here to get Valentina," Wyatt retorts whilst looking at me. "We're going on a date."

Mother's mouth is slightly agape at this sudden news and I admit, I'm surprised too. Frankly, I've never been on a date, so it never even crossed my mind that on this Saturday morning, where the sun gleams brightly and the leaves rustle urgently, I'd be asked out by the most attractive guy I've ever met.

"Ewwww," my mind squeals. "Wyatt's your friend!

Not a potential boyfriend!"

"Val here seems to be torn between whether to go with me or stay," Wyatt continues. "Can you please reassure her that she can go and that she'll be safe?"

Mother, biting her lip and glaring at me with a dirty look, soon covers that expression of disgust with a contrived smile.

"Of course!" She smiles enthusiastically. "You should get going then!"

"We should," Wyatt agrees and grabs my hand.

Instantly, I pull away.

"Wait," I say. "I need my jacket."

"It's warm outside!" He protests.

"Please?"

Tutting at me whilst shaking his head, he obliged and permits me to get any other essentials I may need.

Saying my thanks, I run upstairs, wanting to be quick. Midway through my scavenger hunt for my favourite jacket, my mum enters the bedroom.

"I hope you know you're not special," she states with a frown.

"Excuse me?"

"You're not special, you're not unique and in all seriousness, you and him look awful together," she spits.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you need a reality check, because deep down this 'date' is actually a pity festival," she snickers.

I stare at her, evidently taken aback.

"Enjoy it," she laughs, "who knows, he might have done this because it's the last time your gonna see him again."

"What do you mean?"

"I may be forbidding you from seeing Wyatt again," she suggests with a sly smile. "But it's just a possibility," Mother shrugs.

"You wouldn't dare!" I whisper-shout, a single tear running down my cheeks.

"We'll see."

And with that, she leaves the room.