Waverly lifted his brows.
He had no idea how long they sat like that, silently weighing one another, but eventually Kassidy came back, sat down, and said, “What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Wyatt said immediately, breaking eye contact with Waverly since the older man clearly wasn’t going to back down. “We were just chatting about football.”
“Yeah.” Waverly smiled. “Football.”
The conversation continued as Waverly and Kassidy went off on another tangent about last year’s Super Bowl, and Wyatt found himself strangely reserved. There was something about what Waverly said, and how he’d said it, that had shaken Wyatt to his very core.
Did he care about Kassidy? Was there something to fight for? Did she bring him to life? He was beginning to question everything about himself and Kassidy’s effect on him, and as a man who didn’t second-guess anything, he didn’t like that at all.
As if she sensed his distrac
tion, she leaned in close at a lull in the conversation and whispered, “Are you okay?”
He jerked to attention. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s just…” She fidgeted with the napkin on her lap. He noticed her nail polish was chipped on her thumb, and there was something so very Kassidy—so endearing—about that little detail that his heart skipped a beat for no logical reason at all. “Ever since you called me your girl, you’ve been acting weird. I didn’t think you meant it. It was said in fun. I’m well aware I’m not, and never will be, your girl.”
Something about the way she said it didn’t sit well in his stomach. But he forced a smile anyway. “I’m not worried about that.”
“Then, what is it?”
“I just have a headache, that’s all.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, did you get that guy’s number that you were talking to?”
“What guy?” she asked in confusion.
“The one at the bathroom that you were flirting with.”
“I wasn’t flirting,” she said, frowning. “He was just talking to me.”
“Flirting with you,” he corrected. “Did you get his number?”
She shook her head, her forehead wrinkled. “Nah. I’m not interested.”
“Why not?” he asked because he was a glutton for punishment.
“I dunno. I guess…he’s just too muscly for me.”
“Then what does that make me?” he asked, frowning. “Scrawny?”
“Just right,” she supplied, eyeing his arms. “Some might even say perfect.”
He choked on a laugh and glanced toward Waverly, who had become the quiet one. It wasn’t until then that he realized why—he wasn’t even there anymore.
“He went to the bathroom,” Kassidy supplied.
“Oh. Right.”
“So, we’re cool?”
“Of course.” He leaned in and wrapped his hand behind the back of her neck, pulling her in and resting his forehead on hers. Inhaling deeply, he greedily breathed in her scent. Every muscle in his body relaxed. “We’re so cool we’re the Arctic.”
She laughed, resting her hands on his chest. “Good.”
“Very good,” he whispered.
Their lips touched sweetly, because he needed to kiss her again, and it was in that moment that he knew that Waverly was right. The way she knotted him up so imperfectly was something he’d never experienced before in his life. And, more than likely, he’d never find it again with anyone else.