Page 36 of What Is Love
Fuck it.
I pulled my phone out and sent a text to Brandon, explaining that I had plans with Clay, who was waiting at home for me, but maybe we could do something this weekend. Then I texted Prue to tell Clay that I wouldn’t be home because I was hanging out with Brandon.
I walked out of the school. As I headed for my G-Wagon, I scanned the parking lot for Roe. I found him pretty quickly. He was parked next to my car.
I paused for only a moment in front of his motorcycle. “Okay.” It was all I said before climbing into my vehicle.
Roe’s bike roared to life just as I got buckled. I glanced over to see him waiting for me. I quickly got my car going and followed him out of the parking lot.
Roe ledme to a one-story brick house located deep within a large residential neighborhood on the south side of the bridge. There was an old car in the driveway and Roe parked his motorcycle next to it. I parked in the street by the curb directly in front of the house. Before getting out, I took off my blazer and only bothered to bring my phone, wallet, and keys.
Roe was waiting for me just outside my car. He tilted his head toward the house. “This is my home.”
His house had tan bricks, brown roof shingles, and brown-framed windows. A stone path cut through the middle of the yard’s freshly mown grass to lead up to the front door. I could feel Roe’s eyes on me as I took it all in.
“Wyatt’s already home,” he said as he started heading up the stone path.
I followed. “Wyatt lives with you?”
Roe’s keys jingled as he unlocked the front door. “Yeah. His parents—” He trailed off as he opened it. He gestured for me to go in first. “It’s his story to tell.”
I nodded and walked in. Just inside and to the right was a living room. An L-shaped, light charcoal couch and black leather recliner faced a big flat-screen TV on the wall. Under the TV was a black console cabinet. On the far right wall, where part of the couch was up against, there were two acoustic guitars hanging as well as black-and-white pictures of motorcycles and a metal Harley Davidson sign. In the center of it all was a photo of a man on a parked motorcycle with a little boy sitting in front of him holding the handlebars. I wondered if that was Roe and his father. To the left of the front door was a long hallway. Straight ahead I could see a dining room and part of the kitchen.
I could feel Roe watching me again.
I looked back at him. He had shut the front door and was just standing by it, still as a statue. “Are you staring to see what I think?” I asked and glanced around again. It was so different from what I was used to. “It feels warm and comfortable.” The moment I said that, I realized I wasn’t exactly clear in my meaning and quickly added, “I’m not talking about the temperature.”
“I understood what you meant,” he said.
“What do we have here?” a voice I knew belonged to Wyatt said.
I glanced toward the hallway. Wyatt was coming down it.
“There’s a beautiful joint thief in our living room.” He stopped walking just as he stepped out of the hall, his beautifully unique eyes fixed on me. If he knew Roe was standing by thefront door, not more than five feet from him, he didn’t bother acknowledging him.
“She’s hanging out with us,” Roe said.
Wyatt still didn’t look in his friend’s direction. Instead, he grinned and reached for my hand. “I’ll give you the tour. We’ll start with my room first.”
Even though he had grabbed my hand and was pulling me toward the hall, I didn’t feel put off or in danger. Surprisingly, I smiled.
“I didn’t bring her over here to—” Roe started to say, but was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing. Wyatt and I were halfway down the hall when we heard Roe answer it, “What’s up, Dad?”
Wyatt’s room was a lot to take in. Not that there was anything wrong with it. A small desk was up against the left wall and above it was a corkboard covered in comic-style drawings. Next to his desk was a bookshelf filled with comics, manga, and books on drawing. Along the room’s right-hand wall was a queen-size bed with dark green bedding and multiple floating shelves that held framed photos. Nearly all of them were of him and an old gentleman doing different things. In one, the two of them were working on an old car; in another, they were fishing; in another, the old gentleman was in a hospital bed. In that one, Wyatt was leaning close, and it looked like he was taking a selfie of them. Then there was one framed photo of Wyatt, Roe, and Reid. They were just kids in it, but I could tell right away it was them. Reid was in the middle frowning, Roe was on the right smiling, and Wyatt was on the left making a silly face with his tongue out. Surrounding the framed photos were toy models of classic cars, a few superhero action figures still in their boxes, and a wood-and-glass case with a folded-up flag and medals inside. There was so much personality in such a small space. Everywhere you looked seemed to tell a story.
“You’re kind of different, you know that?” Wyatt said as he straddled his desk chair backward.
“Why do you say that?” I asked as I walked over to him to get a better look at his wall of drawings. I noticed he had one on his desk. I set my phone, wallet, and keys next to it before picking it up to get a better look.
“You don’t seem shy being in my room at all. You walked in here with no problem and started inspecting silently. Most girls would be a little shy or would ask questions about things they saw.”
“I’m an entitled prick, remember?” I said as I took in the details of the scene he’d drawn. It was of a thief running away down an alley after stealing a purse with an evil and gleeful grin. It wasn’t my style of drawing, but I could still recognize how good it was. Roe had been right. Wyatt was very talented.
“Do you always talk down about yourself?” he asked, shocking me.
I spared him a glance. “Is it talking down if it’s true?”
He was frowning.
