Chapter 16

Wyatt texts me the address of where the party for his mother is going to be held, the time, and what I should wear for the event. A lot of people are invited, and most of them are her mother's friends and relatives. Since the party is quite fancy, he asked me to wear a suit. The party is a semi-formal event, so I really don't have to go on full formal attire. I have already picked out my outfit (thank God Melody is not here), and when my mom saw it, she approved of it already.

They still can't believe that their son is back home for a week, and mom has gone grocery shopping with dad so she can make me my favorite food that she knows I missed. Well, she's totally right.

Stepping out the shower, I dry myself and check myself out in the mirror. There's a stubble sprouting already, and the hair on the sides of my face is already visible, which means that I need to shave it clean. I'm not really a big fan of beards and chest hair and all that stuff – I still find them attractive, but not on me. I feel like I'm better off without beards or any patch of hair on my chest. I shave the growing stubble and the hair on the sides of my face, and check myself once again in the mirror before going back to my bedroom to get dressed.

"How do I look?" I ask my mom before she saunters her way to the kitchen.

She has only cooked a meal for two tonight since I told her I'd be eating there, and we both agreed that I'd stuff myself tomorrow and all week that I'm here with her food. She's more than happy to hear that.

My mom fixes the hem of my suit, massaging my shoulder a bit, while beaming, an indication that she loves how I look. My mom gushes a lot about my fashion style, which I lack of, but with her help and Melody's, I manage to look good sometimes. Looking over her shoulder, dad gives me a thumbs up and I return it back with a huge grin plastered on my face.

"Handsome." My mom tells me as she pats my chest and I give her a hug.

Wyatt texted me exactly fifteen minutes ago that someone would pick me up. I told him that I could just book an Uber to get there, but he insisted. Of course I didn't put up a fight about it, knowing that he'd only push for it more.

"Thanks, mom." I tighten my hold around her.

I don't want to let go. I missed her so much it's hard to let go. My parents have been my rock when I was growing up. There were things I couldn't tell Melody, but I could tell my parents. It means a lot when your parents understand whatever you're going through, and knowing they support your decision and give advice and tell you that everything's going to be alright, that's the best feeling. It's different when you tell your best friend about your problem, but the comfort of your loved ones, especially your parents, it means a lot.

"Sounds like your ride is here," dad yells who is in the living room binge-watching the season seven of Game of Thrones. I give my mom a hug once more before giving my dad a thumbs up, and he returns it back. That's our ritual before he goes out, or I go out. "Take care, bud."

"I will!"

When I get outside, there's a grey Volvo XC60 parked in front of my house. A guy in a suit gets out of the car and nods his head. I smile at him and he runs to the other side just to get the door open. Okay, that's weird. For one, I'm not a girl. I don't need some guy opening the door for me. Second, that's weird. Despite, I just smile back at the man, whose name is I don't know yet, and climb in the car. He turns on the radio, and Billie Eilish's When The Party Is Over blasts through the speakers.

The party is a bit crowded. I'm talking about hundreds of people swarming around the place with a drink in their hands. The event is in the Love's Lookout, an open area that has a great view of Jacksonville. I used to come here before when I was still a high school student, together with Melody. Love's Lookout hasn't changed a single bit; it's still the same place I love. It's just eight in the evening, and the people are already quite loud. Most of the people here are either in their forties to sixties. There are also some young people who I assume Wyatt's cousins and relatives. They are talking, seated on the picnic area of the place.

"Wyatt!" I finally see him.

He's wearing a camouflage shirt, over it is a black leather jacket. There's also a shawl wrapped around his neck, the end fabric hanging freely across his chest. He matched it with jeans, and a black shoes. His brown hair is tousled, naturally, and his brown eyes spark when they see me.

My heart flutters when his eyes meet mine, and beats rapidly when a smile appears.

He starts to walks towards my direction and I suddenly forget how to breathe and move. I just wait for him to get near me, and in this moment, there's a slow motion going on. I notice how his bangs bounce a little as he moves. My eyes flicker on his lips when his tongue darts out and traces his bottom lip. The background music begins to fade, and the people in the background become blurry as Wyatt continues to make his way towards me.

Is this how it's supposed to be?

What is this?

What am I feeling?

"Glad you could make it."

Wyatt stands in front of me with a smile so bright it hurts my eyes, his pearly white teeth showing, his brown eyes sparkling. My heart somersaults when his smile widens. As an appropriate response without saying anything, I just smile back and give him a nod. His eyes roam me, from head to toe, and I suddenly feel self-conscious and awkward. Do I look bad?

"Nice outfit." He grins. I suck in a breath. "C'mon, mom wants to meet you."

My brows furrow at that in confusion. Shrugging it off, I follow Wyatt and he leads me to one of the group where, I guess, his mother is. Wyatt cuts in before another topic gets shoved into his mother's conversation with her friends. Wyatt taps his mother's shoulder and the woman in her fifties turns around.

Her mother looks like an exact replica of Wyatt. Brown eyes, brown hair, but hers are turning white. Her small frame compliments her face. She's wearing a floral dress, her hair pulled up in a bun, and her gold necklace dangling around her neck, full on display. You can tell that she's a beautiful woman in her youth and I bet a lot of guys had asked her out.

"Mom, this is Pierce." Wyatt introduces me.

"Happy Birthday, Mrs. Wyatt." I greet her happily, bowing my head down and giving her the best smile I can give. She returns my smile, grabs my arm, and kisses me on the cheek. I blush. "I know there's a lot of food out here, but I made you an apple pie, which should be delivered here in a few. My mom and I prepared it for you. Wyatt, Ajax or Chase, told me how much you love pies."

"Oh thank you, sweetie." Mrs. Wyatt pinches me on my cheeks and I look at Wyatt for help. He just laughs. "I'd love to have a taste of the pie you made. I absolutely love them. And please, just call me Melissa. Thank you for coming. Ajax has told me a lot about you."

"Mom." Wyatt groans and I look at him for confirmation. His eyes don't meet mine.

"Sshh, don't "mom" me, Ajax." Melissa playfully warns her son.

Now I'm intrigued. What could possibly be the reason why Wyatt is talking about me to his mom? I rack my brain for the answers, but none of them really makes sense. I may have to ask Wyatt about that, but considering his reaction, I figure he won't be telling me anything soon. But still, I want to know why.

"Did you eat already?" I shake my head. "Oh dear, it's bad if your stomach is empty."

"Thank you. I'm going to eat."

"There's a steak there, and also if you're vegan, there are vegetables there." Melissa leads me to the tables where the foods are placed neatly. She hands me a plate and a spoon and fork, and points out her recommendation. "There's also a fruit punch, hold on, I'll get you."

"No, please, please, I'm alright. You and my mother are the same." I laugh softly and her eyes soften when she looks at me.

"Mothers only want best for their children, and we want them to be happy and healthy." she says.

As she says this, she looks at Wyatt who is currently speaking with the guests, and her eyes trail from him to me. There's a sparkle in her eyes that I don't understand. She touches my cheek in a motherly manner, and gives a smile that resembles Wyatt's when he smiles genuinely. Ah, the traits. She lets out a sigh and continues to point out the food and its recipe. Apparently she's the one who made it as she knows Wyatt hasn't been eating well, and she wanted Wyatt to eat as much as he can here because once he goes back in New York with me, he'll slump himself with work.

The steak and the buttered corns are really delicious. I haven't tried the others yet, but I bet they all taste good. There's a nacho with salsa and cheese dips, chicken curry, roasted chicken, pork and beans, macaroni mac and cheese, and spaghetti. There are also desserts – marshmallows, and there's a chocolate fountain, brownies, and fruit salad. I like to try them all, but sadly, there's only a few storage left in my stomach, which sucks by the way.

And have I mentioned there's alcohol in here, like wine, tequila, vodka, and beer? I need to stay away from those. Drunk me is never a good thing. Never. I remember one time, Melody and I were in this party a year ago. It was a recognition event of the company, and it was an open bar, meaning we could order alcohol beverages for as long as we wanted, and we drank and drank until we passed out. Matt was the only one who reminded me what I had done and yes, I remember them all. It was pretty embarrassing. And since then, I've always blamed Johnny Walker, Black Label. That bitch. I swear I'm never going to drink Johnny Walker again, or tequila, or vodka. Those drinks make you do crazy stuff. Willingly. And if your friend is drinking too, then goodie, you both are going to have a walkashame marathon the next morning. Because that's what happened with me and Melody. Matt took us home. And then the next morning, we pretty much regretted everything that happened in that recognition event. While I'm trying to away from alcoholic beverages, Melody doesn't do the same thing. In fact, she has a lot of cheap wines and some vodkas in her apartment. She's not really alcoholic, but when she drinks, she drowns herself with those alcohol.

So yes, you see now where I'm coming from?

Drunk me is never a good thing. It will never be. I may drink, but it will be only a few. I can think of different ways to let out frustration, like playing an arcade til' midnight or the sun rises, or I can mope and sulk on a corner of my room. Isn't that better?

"What do you mean she can't come?" Wyatt says, frustration laced in his voice.

"I'm really sorry, but there's an emergency." A boy said emphatically.

Wyatt pinches the bridge of his nose, turning around and letting the steam off. He lets out a shaky breath, and glares outside through the window. I was just eating nachos when I heard an argument at the back, so I had to go check and see. There's a conflicted look on his face, and when his eyes finally meet mine, he lets himself be vulnerable.

"What happened?" I ask them, looking between the boy and Wyatt.

"The singer that I booked for tonight, quite a famous person, can't come tonight," Wyatt explains and his shoulders slump down. "That person has a good voice, jazzy, you know. Mom loves those, especially the songs she and dad used to sing together. That'll truly make her happy."

Wyatt's face falls, and in this moment, I can feel the sad rolling off of him in waves, hitting me. My heart aches for him. He wanted this party to be special and memorable, and in one single news – a single that he booked for tonight to sing for his mom will not be able to make it. The guy leaves us alone and Wyatt lets out a heavy sigh.

"I could do it," I tell him.

"What?"

"I'm volunteering." I smile at him. Wyatt looks at me with heavy gaze. "I could sing your mom songs she'd like to hear. What are the songs?"

"Those are old songs. I doubt you know them."

"Fight me." I shot, and he rolls his eyes playfully.

"Something by The Beatles, Your Song by Elton John, My Girl by The Temptations. Do you know these songs?" He raises a brow at me, crossing his arms across his chest and my eyes flicker on his arms. Ugh, they are so strong and big. I look at him with disinterest. "At Last by Etta James, The Way You Look Tonight by Frank Sinatra, Sweet Thing by Van Morrison?"

"You, sir, just have listed the songs I kept singing when I was in high school."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," I let out a chuckle. I punch his shoulder playfully. "So you up for it?"

"If you think I'm going to decline, then you're wrong." He grins. "Thank you, Pierce. This really means a lot to me. I owe you big time."

"Just give me a raise,"

"Fuck off," he playfully pushes me and I roll my eyes, but I'm grinning.

This is the first time I'm going to be the center of attraction when I step in the middle to sing Melissa the songs. Wyatt has given me a list of songs that I can sing. I chose my favorites amongst the songs he provided me, and he downloaded the karaoke version of the songs. He said that he'd just plug the phone in the speaker system and he'd give me a go signal once everything is set up.

From here, I can see Wyatt setting up the speaker, plugging his phone in. He turns around and gives me the go signal. No one knows Wyatt has rented a band to play for his mom, so when I step up in the center with a microphone in my hand, their attention will be on me. Wyatt gives me a thumbs up with a huge grin plastered on his face. I smile at him despite the nervousness I'm feeling.

Mustering up a courage and taking a deep breath, I begin to walk towards the center. All the while, I hold Wyatt's gaze. He takes a seat on one of the mini speakers and his smile falters, but his eyes never leave mine. My heart is beating painfully, pounding against my chest and I feel and hear every beat.

As soon as I'm in the center, the chattering of the people subsides and all attentions are on me. I let go of Wyatt's gaze and scan my area until I'm met with the same brown eyes that I have always loved. I tip my imaginary hat at Melissa and she giggles, her friends gushing about as their eyes focus on me.

In the background, Stand By Me by Ben King starts to play. The people begin to sway at the song, and I lift the microphone just a few inches away from my lips, and then I begin to sing. Melissa takes a step forward, and Wyatt joins his mother. They dance in the center while everyone is watching them with happy faces. Wyatt twirls his mother, and Melissa's floral dress joins her as she goes around. They continue to dance, twirling and laughing and enjoying, and I love watching them.

Once the song ends, another one plays. And I take a breath before it begins playing. I learned that Wyatt's father's name is Harry and he died in a heart attack. And there's this song Melissa used to sing to her husband when he was in the hospital recovering. Peggy Lee's I'm Just Wild About Harry comes playing. Melissa laughs at the song and jives to the song with her friends. After the song ends, I take a quick chug of water, and when the next song starts playing, my heart immediately melts.

My mom and dad still sing the song, and they love it very much. It's also the song that made me want to listen to the old songs because I kept asking: "Why do musicians nowadays don't make songs like this?" because really, this song is phenomenal. And when I hear this, I think of my parents and my friends and the people that I got mad with and all the things I've done. But when the song starts playing, my eyes immediately fall to Wyatt and he returns my gaze.

"I see trees of green, red roses too; I see them bloom, for me and you, and I think to myself, what a wonderful world." I shut my eyes, but I still feel Wyatt's gaze on me, burning, and it makes my heart bleed. I certainly have feelings for Wyatt, and even though I know he'll never notice me and that I suppose to hate him, I can't because I'm not that type of person.

I hope Wyatt hears what my heart is saying. Because to be honest, I don't know how much longer I can take this, how much longer I can keep this. A tear slips in my right ear, and Wyatt sees it. His eyes never leave mine, and I hope it doesn't, because I want him to feel that I'm really singing the song for him and not just for his mother or for anyone. This is for him.

"The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky, are also on the faces of people going by."

He mouths the lyrics to me. "I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do."

And I end the song with: "They are really saying I love you."

And we just let the song to stop playing, but our eyes never leave each other.