Goodnight to My Thoughts of You

  Chapter Twelve

  Wyatt

  The next church outing was my first trip with the college group, and it was a waterskiing trip to Lake Nacimiento. Bianca couldn’t go, but a few other friends from the youth group went, as well as Kelly. Two of the guys were new to our church.

  “Who are those new guys?” I whispered to Kelly before we left.

  “Wyatt and Ben,” she said, pointing out who was who. “Wyatt’s family is close with the Greer family,” she said.

  “Oh, really! He’s cute. Look at those green eyes!”

  Kelly laughed. “He’s single. And he’s your age.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I blurted.

  “Nothing,” she said. “He’s just in your grade.”

  As we were packing our luggage into the vans, Wyatt introduced himself to me. I liked him right away.

  “You need help with that suitcase?” he asked.

  “No,” I answered. “I have two arms—and I better use them while I have them.”

  “You’re right. I thank God too—I almost lost my arm in seventh grade.”

  “How?”

  “Motorcycle accident,” he said.

  He gave me a shining smile that showed me we were on the same wavelength.

  Wyatt and I hit it off right away, and we had a great conversation on the way up the mountain. He was training to be a fireman and taking EMT classes.

  “Once during training, we got a call about a suicide attempt,” he said. “A man had shot himself in the mouth. When we arrived, the guy was on the ground, blood all over the place. They told me, ‘Hold his head!’ So I had to hold the guy’s head straight while they tried to resuscitate him. All of a sudden—boom!—the guy’s head exploded!”

  “What?!” Kelly and I screamed. “Eeew!”

  “Seriously. The air pressure and the placement of the bullet caused the guy’s head to explode in my hands.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was lying or not, but it was a good story.

  This guy almost had me forgetting about Paul—well, not quite, but almost.

  Up at the lake, Kelly let me try out her Jet Ski, then I took a boat ride and watched Wyatt wakeboard like a pro. He jumped the wake, flipped in the air, and landed, over and over again. We cheered, and he did some other goofball tricks with the rope. Finally, he let go of the rope and went skidding to a stop, so someone else could have a turn.

  “Wow, you’re really good!” I said as he climbed in the boat. His blonde hair looked a lot darker when it was wet.

  “My family has a boat, so I get a lot of practice,” he said as he peeled off his wetsuit, revealing his tan, muscular chest. “When my family goes out on the water, I wakeboard from morning until night.” His eyes sparkled green.

  Later that evening we set up our tents near the lake and made some dinner. Wyatt brought his beach chair over to mine, and we asked his friend Ben to take some pictures of us.

  It was sort of like having the coolest brother in the world. This guy was making me laugh, encouraging me to do 360s on the Jet Ski, taking pictures of me with my mouth full of food, and intermittently diving into thoughtful and inspiring conversations about humanity.

  “So what do you like to do, Miriam?” he asked after dinner.

  “Well, I love to dance. I’ve taken ballet classes most of my life.”

  “Show me. Show me some pirouettes,” he requested, leaning back in his chair.

  “I can’t. I kind of tripped down the stairs a few days ago, and I haven’t been able to dance. I’m actually really bummed about it.” It was true. I had been slightly limping for about five days.

  “Well, maybe some other time,” he smiled. “When it heals.”

  “Definitely,” I said.

  Later on the guys built a campfire. We roasted marshmallows and ate s’mores.

  As the breeze grew colder, people started settling down in their tents.

  Wyatt and I were sitting next to each other, leaning back in our beach chairs. We stared up at the beautiful sky, which was filled with bright stars and planets.

  “It’s so gorgeous,” I said.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he replied.

  “Really? Thanks,” I said, trying to take the compliment well. Something about his forthrightness made me want to be honest with him.

  “You know, when I was growing up, I never thought I was pretty. I had really crooked teeth and huge red-rimmed glasses with bifocals,” I confessed with a giggle. “Boys never liked me. I was such a nerd.”

  “No way,” he said.

  “Yes, I really was a geek. And I think I still am. The only difference is that I have straight teeth and contact lenses now. Suddenly guys notice me. I think that’s lame.”

  “Yes, that is lame. If I knew you when you had glasses and crooked teeth, I would have had a crush on you. I’ve always been a geek too.”

  “Aw, gee thanks, Wyatt.”

  The counselors called for everyone to get in bed. We said goodnight and headed to our tents. To my delight, the trip was turning out to be a lot more exciting than I thought it would be.

  Kelly and I stayed up late talking in our tent.

  “You and Wyatt seem to get along really well,” she said.

  “He’s nice. He seems different from other guys too. He’s so—alive. I like that. What about you?” I asked. “Any guys in your life?”

  “Oh, you know me.”

  “No, really. Who do you like, Kelly? Do you have your eye on anyone?”

  “Well, I do like someone. But I don’t think I’m his type.”

  “What, he doesn’t go for the awesome, gorgeous, athletic, Christian girl type?”

  “Let’s just say he doesn’t go for women my age.”

  “What, he likes younger women? Stay away.”

  “Yeah,” she laughed.

  After another exhilarating day on the lake, our group had a time for prayer and discussion, and then we started settling down for the evening.

  Wyatt tapped me on the shoulder.

  “You want to go on a hike?”

  “Are we allowed to?” I asked.

  “Sure,” he said.

  “What about my ankle? I can’t walk very far.”

  “If you get tired I’ll carry you.”

  “Ha! I’m pretty heavy!”

  “Ballerinas aren’t heavy.”

  None of the leaders seemed to mind when we told them we were going walking, so we headed up one of the hiking trails near our campsite. While I was a little hesitant to be alone with him in the dark, I didn’t get any weird vibes; I trusted his spirit and his intentions.

  After we walked a little ways, he stopped. “I brought a blanket so we could watch the stars,” he said, and he pulled a blanket out of his backpack.

  “How sweet!” I said, excited and nervous. He cleared away some rocks and spread the blanket on the dirt path. We sat and talked for a little while.

  “Lie down,” he said. “We can see the stars better that way.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m not going to lie down next to you.”

  “Why not? I don’t bite.”

  “I’m not going to kiss you,” I said.

  “Whoa, I respect that,” he said. “I’m not gonna kiss you either. I just think we’ll have a better view if we lie down.”

  “Oh. Sorry. OK.”

  I decided to go with my instinct that this guy was harmless and brotherly. So I joined him on the blanket, and we chatted for a while longer.

  “Do guys usually try to kiss you just two days after you meet?” he asked.

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “Yeah, I guess I know what you mean. You have to stay away from guys like that.”

  “I know. I wish there were more guys like you—nice Christian guys who are normal.”

  “I’m not normal,” he said. “I’m extraordinary.”

  “Of course!”

  The sky was beautiful, the wind was pleasant, and the whole picture w
as too romantic.

  “It’s getting cold out here. We should go back,” I said.

  “Do you want me to keep you warm?” he asked, smiling.

  “No thanks, I’m OK. Let’s head back before Kelly gets worried about us.”

  As we walked back to the camp, I asked myself if I was giving Wyatt the wrong idea. I knew in my heart that I was still devoted to Paul. And this guy was a friend of his. But Wyatt’s charm, good looks, and pleasant company naturally drew me to him.

  To my surprise, Wyatt asked me to go on a walk again the next night. This time we chose a different path, and he hopped—I hobbled—over logs and wound through trees. I asked him to tell me more stories about his fire cadet training. “Alright, but let’s find somewhere to sit down.”

  “Why?”

  “I was thinking about you today, and I decided that I want to do something for you. I want to massage your ankle for you.”

  “My sore ankle?”

  “Just let me try.”

  “No, no, my feet are dirty!” I blurted, trying to ward him off of the idea. “And I have calluses from dancing.”

  “Do I look like I care about that? I’ve had someone’s brains on my hands.”

  He looked sincere. And I could tell that he was determined to try this out.

  “Oh, my gosh—OK.”

  We found a log that was stable enough for us to sit down together. There was a brief awkward moment where we figured out how we would sit. Then I lifted my leg, rested it on the log, and placed my foot in his lap. He looked at it for a moment, like he had to appreciate what it was before he could touch it. The ankle was pretty swollen. He began touching it in different places, asking me, “Does this hurt? Does it hurt here?” Then, strategically, he started working on my ankle. At first it was painful. Then it felt wonderful.

  For about an hour we sat telling stories and laughing. “See, the swelling is going down,” he said. It was true.

  “You have healing hands,” I said.

  After the ski trip, Wyatt called me and took me out on a few dates. I went to his home, met his family, went to the beach, and watched him surf. He took me out to his favorite Mexican restaurant in Hollywood.

  One night when he dropped me off at my house, he stood by my front door, holding my hand. Then he moved closer to my face.

  “Is it alright if I kiss you?” he asked.

  I giggled. “You know how I feel about that.”

  “It’s just a friend kiss, like one I would give my sister.”

  “Eew.”

  “Please? I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”

  “On the cheek,” I said, smiling.

  He squeezed my hand and gave me a tender kiss on the cheek.

  Soon we were kissing every time we were alone together. It happened just like it did with every other guy I had dated. Too much kissing. I knew it wasn’t right, and I was plagued by guilt. So I tried something different. I stopped letting him kiss me. My decision was not easy for Wyatt. I didn’t explain my reasoning to him very well. How could I? It wasn’t even about my promise ring anymore. The truth was that I couldn’t give him my heart.

  Soon afterward he brought me to a party at his friend’s house, and Wyatt had a few drinks, even though he was underage. He didn’t think it was a big deal. Then I met one of his ex-girlfriends, which was awkward, and learned that they had been intimate when they were dating.

  After that night, I began to inch away from him. I stopped returning his phone calls. I told myself I had enough information to know that even though he was wonderful, Wyatt was not the guy for me.