Last week, as you'll recall, Wyatt brought Shy ice cream, only to be told to go away! What next? The answer lies in this week's No Way Out. Don't forget to see what the other Briefers are up to. Their links follow my tale. Enjoy!
No Way Out #7
Of all the reactions Wyatt had anticipated on his short trek across the street, hearing Shy tell him to go away wasn’t one of them. Shy looked so... afraid... but why? Was Randy’s hold on him so tight he feared even talking to another person? Or was it Wyatt in particular?
Wyatt was confused. Especially when he saw the furtive look Shy gave to the ice creams in his hands which, almost forgotten, were dripping onto the front stoop.
He was reminded of a game he’d played as a kid, with some of his friends, the object of which was to figure out what someone was looking at. “I spy with my little eye,” the familiar chant went, followed by a guess of some sort. Right now, Wyatt thought he spied naked fear in Shylor’s eyes. And he didn’t like it. Not one little bit.
Wyatt was too startled to answer immediately, and Shy made no move to leave, so they remained frozen in an odd tableau, their eyes locked upon one another, as if each was mesmerized by the other. Wyatt could fairly feel the indecision that pulsed between them. Surely he wasn’t mistaken in thinking that Shy wanted to talk to him as badly as he wanted to talk to Shy? If he didn’t, wouldn’t he have closed the door by now?
At least, that’s what his intuition told him, although he was woefully ignorant of how to handle a situation like this, having never found himself in one before. What in the world could make someone look so scared? Wyatt wasn’t sure he wanted to know. And yet he wanted to help Shy in any way he could. Clear his beautiful blue eyes, make him smile... free him from whatever held him in such a tight grip of panic.
“It’s just ice cream. I thought you might like to share some with me. You like ice cream, don’t you?” Wyatt heard himself babble. He wanted to get Shy to relax, but it didn’t look like that was happening any time soon.
Um, think, think... do something.
He blindly thrust one of the cones forward. Did Shy’s hand twitch, just for a moment? Did he start to reach for it and then held himself back?
But why? Why in the name of all that was holy was he so damn afraid? And of what?
At the sound of an engine, Wyatt thought Shy was going to faint. His eyes grew bigger and he looked about as bloodless as a vampire on a day pass. Wyatt turned toward the street. It was just the mail truck, making its appointed rounds, backfiring. Nothing there to be alarmed about. But as he pivoted back to tell Shylor so, the door slammed shut, leaving a stunned Wyatt gaping at it.
* * * *
Shy leaned against the door, his heart beating erratically, his hands clenched into fists. Despite his best efforts, he felt warm tears prickle in his eyes. No, dammit, no. It was better this way. What if... what if that had been Randy? The thought didn’t bear completion. Shy had gotten lucky, no sense in tempting fate. No matter what his traitorous body was telling him to do. To open the door. To invite Wyatt in. To take the ice cream and feast on it. Oh damn, when was the last time he had eaten ice cream? He no longer remembered. Months, at least. A punishment that he no longer recalled the crime he’d committed. And it didn’t matter anyway.
It wasn’t just the ice cream that was so dangerous, it was the way Shy found himself reacting to Wyatt. He’d never had this happen before, and he found himself shaken to the core with the strong desire that was threatening to topple his very existence. He didn’t even understand why he wanted Wyatt so badly, he just did. Maybe because he seemed kind. And kindness was definitely lacking in Shy’s diet.
Wyatt seemed sweet, and thoughtful, and he was good looking.
The tears were closer to spilling now. Shy began to panic. If he gave in to this stupid emo shit, his eyes would show it, and Randy would want to know why, and Shy wasn’t a good enough liar to pull that off.
He was startled from his reverie, effectively halting his tears, by the reverberation of the door through his body. It took Shy a few seconds to realize Wyatt was knocking, followed by the sound of the doorbell as it echoed throughout the house.
Shy was torn. He could stand there and do nothing, wait for Wyatt to get the message and leave. He could run to his room, hide his head beneath the pillows and pretend he didn’t hear. But what if Wyatt didn’t leave? What if he stood there until Randy came home? Shy’s stomach knotted at the very thought.
He forced himself to calm down, digging his nails into the palms to distract himself, so hard that small red crescents formed. He had to do this. He had to discourage Wyatt from ever coming over here, even if it turned out to be the hardest thing he’d ever done. And he’d done a lot of hard things in his short life.
But it was a matter of self-preservation. Even more, he didn’t want Wyatt to be hurt, and there was no doubt in Shy’s mind that Randy would hurt him.
He slowly opened the door, catching Wyatt in mid-knock, startling the other man.
“You can’t be here,” he whispered in as fierce a voice as he could muster. “He can’t see you.”
He watched Wyatt as he processed the words. Why didn’t the fool leave, while he still could. He seemed ready to go, so go...
“Meet me somewhere,” came the unbelievable words. “Tomorrow morning. Meet me somewhere else. Anywhere.”
Shy felt bile rise in his throat. He swallowed quickly.
I can’t... I can’t.... I....
“Where?” he almost sighed.
to be continued
Don't forget to visit the other Wednesday Briefers and enjoy their offerings!
Until next time, take care!