Chapter 18
Addicted to Hope
Wyatt
It’s been two weeks since the soup cook-off.
The sweet taste of Aria’s lips has been with me for fourteen days.
Honey and cream cheese, her favorite breakfast. I am holding onto these memories because ever since the…
incident, naturally she’s been avoiding me.
During the last two town halls, she sat with Harper off in the back corner, but without a hat this time at least. She probably thought I wouldn’t notice her, but I notice Aria everywhere; it doesn’t matter how well she hides.
Strangely enough, the fact that she takes off whenever she sees me doesn’t bother me whatsoever.
I know now that things between us were never over.
The way her body reacted to my touch, the way her eyes glistened, full of life and love, the way my lips could make her tremble…
Aria Moore still wants me but is doing everything not to think about it.
I know her so well that I just knew, I knew, that not even ten minutes after our kiss, “Paxton” would get a message from her because she’s just so in love with me, that it’s driving her mad, and she’s doing everything she can to try and forget me and my caresses.
The first text came eight minutes later.
And since then, we’ve been texting each other.
Every day. She thinks I’m someone else, but all the same I couldn’t be happier because SHE’S WRITING ME, and THAT MEANS WE’RE COMMUNICATING.
There’s a constant grin on my face. Even Camila and Knox have asked me if I’m taking drugs again.
Fuck that. Aria’s the only drug I need.
Opening my eyes this morning, I noticed it. That feeling inside me. An inner warmth spreading through my veins and making them pulse with energy.
This is happiness, I think with surprise. I’m happy.
A smile creeps across my lips while I stretch out my good right arm and reach for my phone. Sleep still sticking to my eyes, I blink at my screen with tired lids. Four messages. My heart makes four little jumps. Her name four times in a row.
Brownies for breaktfst, this is gonna be a good day!
breaktfst
brEAKFAST, goodness
Sorry.
Just the idea of her sitting at the table, shoving this piece of chocolate into her luscious mouth… Shit, I’m getting a hard-on. Stifling a groan, I stretch out, run a hand through my hair, and type an answer.
Only if the brownies are as sweet as you.
I know Aria loves it when I write that kind of thing. I mean, she did in the past. Every time I’d let romantic words slip, she’d purr like her cat Hershey and never stop grinning.
I’m wondering if I should rub one out in the shower after I go for a jog, like every day, thinking about Aria’s lips around my dick, or if I should just give in right now.
But my plans are thwarted with a knock at the door. Camila pops her head in. “Wyatt?”
“What’s up?”
“You awake?”
“Naw.”
She opens the door a bit wider and tiptoes in on bare feet; she’s in a Snowdogs T-shirt that’s way too big. She stops in front of my bed and begins kneading her hands. “Listen…”
I’m immediately alarmed. I sit up. “What’s wrong?”
In the faint light of the streetlight coming through the curtains, I can see that she’s nibbling her lower lip. “Maybe you should come downstairs and see for yourself.”
“No. Tell me here.”
“I’m afraid.”
“Camila…”
“Just come downstairs, okay?”
She turns and leaves. Watching her go, I can’t help but notice how thin her legs look. Camila was always thin, for sure, but now… She doesn’t look healthy. Something’s not right.
I run my hand over my face before peeling myself out of my bed, pulling on a shirt and a pair of pants, and making my way downstairs.
Camila’s waiting for me in the kitchen.
“So,” I say, annoyed. “What am I supposed to… Santa Maria de Deus…”
Half of the kitchen is underwater, and the walls—Porra! The walls are completely soaked. Mom’s flower wallpaper is peeling off, and that’s just the worst, really. My heart breaks in two. The ceiling is dripping onto the island, the stovetop…
“A leak,” I say, more to myself than to my sister. “A pretty strong one.”
Camila’s tongue darts across her lips thoughtfully while she takes it all in. She painstakingly attempts to avoid the water. “You think we can take care of this on our own?”
“No way.” I walk past her through the puddles with my naked feet and run my hand down the wall. “Pack your things. Only the most important ones. Quick. We gotta get out of here.”
A look of panic shoots through her eyes. “Why?”
I stomp back, grab her hand, and pull her upstairs. “We’ve got all our electrical cables running behind the wall. No idea how bad the damage is, but water and electricity are definitely not a good combo.”
My sister gives a stifled gasp, runs down the hall to her room, and throws everything she can into her sports bag. I do the same, and twenty minutes later we’re stepping onto the Highland Express because, of course—of course—Camila forgot to get gas, and halfway down the road we ran out.
The ski and snowboard season has begun, so the bus is packed with everyone trying to get to Aspen Highlands.
Camila clings to me as I try to keep my balance without having to rub up against anyone else.
Everyone’s staring at me shamelessly. At the second stop, three women get on and, as soon as they see me, they start squealing.
“That’s Wyatt,” the tallest of the three whispers. She’s even taller than me. “Wyatt Lopez.”
“Who’s the girl?” the middle one hisses. Neon-pink tips of hair are peeking out from beneath her wool cap and tickling her chin. “His girlfriend?”
“He doesn’t have one,” the third says indignantly. She doesn’t even try to lower her voice. “He cheated on his high school sweetheart. It was in Teen Vogue.”
In Teen Vogue? Shit, how deep do these reporters dig?
Camila has to have noticed that my body’s tensed up.
She leans to the side and looks over my shoulder.
Her eyes wander past the lanky guy with a red face behind us, past Belly Bernard, the Highlands’ massive gondola operator who rides the bus every day, before stopping on the groupies.
“Hey!” she calls out. Heads turn; every pair of eyes in the bus is now looking at Camila.
“Don’t know whether you noticed or not, but my brother’s a human being, okay?
He’s got ears, even if they’re big, knobby, and downright ugly.
So shut it. I really have no interest in slipping on your drool. ”
The one with the pink tips blinks before a quick and breathless, “Can I get an autograph?” escapes her lips.
“Umm,” I say, my eyes scurrying over all the people in the bus. “Now’s not exactly the best time.”
Camila pokes me in the side. “Don’t be so nice all the time. They were just talking about you like you were a zoo animal.”
The bus stops, and the three groupies start pushing their way past the others to get closer.
Belly Bernard grunts and steps in between. “You’d better get out here. I don’t know how long I can hold them off. Up on the mountain, they’ll probably fall all over you.”
“Truth.” I grab Camila’s far-too-thin wrist. “Come on, quick.”
Our bags keep getting caught on people as we quickly elbow our way through. But then we’re out of the bus and into the Highlands’ fresh winter air.
Man, is it cold, but thank God we got off one stop early.
It’s just a few minutes’ walk over the frozen asphalt to the Winterbottoms’ huge resort.
And when I say huge, I mean immense. Knox’s father is a real estate agent.
Almost every resort in Aspen belongs to him.
And so their villa is gigantic and looks right out onto Aspen Highlands.
The sound of our steps float through the cold air as Camila and I make our way up the curved driveway to the front door. I’m just about to ring when the door opens and we become witness to a real intimate, real passionate, and, for us, real uncomfortable kiss between my best friend and Paisley.
“Later,” Paisley whispers to his lips.
KISS.
“I’m going to miss you.”
KISS.
“I’m going to miss you.”
KISS.
“What do you think, Mila? Are we going to miss her once we’ve fed her to the black bear?”
Knox and Paisley move apart. Knox bangs his head against the door. “Fuck, Lopez!” Paisley knocks her keys off the sideboard with her elbow.
“Dunno,” Camila answers. “We wanna find out?”
“Man, Wy.” My best friend puts a hand on my gray Abercrombie sweater. Apparently he hasn’t been awake too long because his hair is sticking out all over the place. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“We were going to ring, but then you decided to include us in your slobber fest here.”
Paisley turns red. The blotches move up her neck all the way to her ears before spreading out across her high cheekbones.
At that moment, Gwen’s camo-colored Jeep pulls up. She puts down the window and sticks her head out. “Come on, Pais. We’re running late, and Polina’s going to murder me if her Olympic hope isn’t out on the ice on time.”
Paisley grabs her bag, flashes us a sheepish smile, and sprints over to Gwen. A few seconds later the Jeep reverses over the fastidiously manicured lawn, killing a few of its beautiful chrysanthemums, and speeds off.
Knox leans against the doorframe and stares at me, then Camila. “What’s up, bro?”
“Water damage,” I reply. “In our kitchen.”
“Shit.” He steps to the side to let us in, and we walk into the oversized living room with its wooden, rustic-looking modern furniture. “You all hungry?”
Camila shakes her head. “Just coffee for me, thanks.”
Knox raises an eyebrow. “Paisley made her avocado sandwiches.”
“I’ll take one,” I say.
Knox nods and ambles into the kitchen. He puts on some coffee while I start making calls to various workmen and the insurance people.
“They’re inside and will be taking care of everything,” I say eventually, and I toss my phone onto the table next to the couch. I lean back into the cushions and pinch the bridge of my nose. “The universe hates me.”