Never Wanted More by Stacey Mosteller Page A

worried about the time I spend with Wyatt. He says they're just friends, but maybe that's not the way she sees it.
    "They left? Great. Well.... thanks. I'll leave y'all alone now." Hurrying out of the room, before I break down and ask her about her and Wyatt, I shut the door and lean back against it.
    "What were you doing in Emmett's room?" an amused voice asks, making me jump.
    Turning my head towards Wyatt, I reply, "I was looking for Scarlett and Kat. Olivia and her friend said they left with Max earlier."
    He nods, grinning, "Ahh. You should have asked me before searching the apartment. I would've told you they ran to the store for more snacks. We weren't expecting this many people." Of course they weren't, but it's the night before the last day of class. Everyone wants to party, especially if it's off campus. Crossing my arms, I turn away from him and study the crowd mingling in the living room. For the first time, I'm actually a little jealous of all the people here having fun. These people are mingling, hanging out with friends, and seem to have absolutely no concerns about parents or family, and no insecurities. It has been a long time since I've envied people for feeling that way.
    Wyatt notices the melancholy shift of my thoughts, because he comes closer before grasping my chin and turning my face to meet his concerned gaze. "What's wrong Pey?"
    "Nothing," I say with a shrug, trying to move away from his fingers but he doesn't let me.
    He raises an eyebrow, "I call bullshit." Letting go of my chin, he grabs my hand instead, intertwining our fingers. "In all your snooping, did you find my room?"
    I shake my head, "No, I only made it to Clay and Emmett's rooms." Wyatt grins before tugging me across the room to the other bedroom.

Chapter 13

    When we walk inside, there's no hiding the fact that it's Wyatt's room. There's one of those kid's basketball goals hooked on his closet door, a basketball uniform balled up on the floor in the corner, and his bed is made, but it's obvious by the mussed covers he, or someone, has been laying on it at some point since he made it. His dresser has a model of the Seattle Space Needle on one side, and the Eiffel Tower on the other. Both are made out of Lego's. In the middle of his desk, instead of a computer, is a half-built model of something else, although I'm not sure what it is. Walking over to get a closer look, the instructions say it's the Sydney Opera House.
    When I turn back around, Wyatt's leaning back against the door with his arms crossed. His blue eyes are darker than normal and he's watching me carefully. Trying to lighten the mood, I say, "I thought only little kids played with Lego's."
    One side of Wyatt's mouth lifts and he shrugs, "I guess I'm a kid at heart. I'm an Architecture major Peyton. Building things comes naturally."
    "Why the Space Needle? Or the Eiffel Tower?"
    He continues to hold my gaze, "They're amazing buildings, and places I've never seen, but want to. Remember, my family is poor. I've never been outside of Tennessee. In fact, Nashville's the furthest from my hometown I've ever been. I want to do more, go more places."
    This conversation has gotten way more personal than I thought it would. I get it, and more than that, I get him . I understand what he's saying. He doesn't want to be forever branded as the son of an unwed mother. I may not have any experience with how he grew up, but based on how snobby my parents are, I have an inkling of how he was treated growing up and it makes my heart squeeze. I don't say anything else, and finally Wyatt sighs before crossing the room to sit on his bed. When he reaches over, I think he's going to grab me so I step back. He sighs and shakes his head before he grabs the desk chair and pulls it out. He motions for me to sit. Oh . Well, now I feel stupid.
    Once I'm sitting, Wyatt takes my hand in his, "Will you please do me a favor?"
    "What favor?" I ask warily, not sure at all where he's going with this.
    He takes