[Wyatt's shots; Still Into You by Paramore]
word count: 2150

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Dalton Jones, although he looked fit, was quite uncoordinated and just as heavy.

The Australian boy was pretty much the definition of a contradiction. With his slim jawline and slightly scrawny wrists, you'd have assumed he weighted just a little more than me but honestly, I felt my knees buckling beneath me. The first time I'd carried Dalton, Quinn was there to help me but due to the fact that she refused to go into the boy's bathroom with instructions to 'get him out the dang dunny,' I had to brave this mission on my own.

I hadn't seen him that morning on the bus, Quinn having to sit beside me and I'd wondered when he'd get in trouble for truancy... Of course, he hadn't seemed that off when I'd seen him at lunch and I wasn't affected by the fact that he'd shown up, maybe he'd just come in late. Now, it was more of how I'd be preventing the Aussie boy from getting in trouble for drugs considering the fact that they hadn't legalized marijuana in the peach state. 

I often wondered why I was so nice considering my brother's were absolutely vile and if it were me in that stall, I'd be fending for myself. Of course, I had no life nor friends that were so bad in the influence department or rather friends of any kind.

I had to get a hobby, one that didn't include looking after boys that were obviously no good.

"Dalton?" I'd called out, knocking twice on the only stall that was closed -the handicapped stall-, my eyes shutting with the annoyance in his voice. He'd spat his reply, it ricocheting off the walls and I'd tried my best to keep my cool.

"What?"

"Open the stall, you're gonna get in trouble if they find you." And he would, everyone at this school were rather pristine and polished, always ready to tell administrators... If he wasn't found by them, the stoners would've had more to contribute and as rude as he'd been to me, I couldn't let him go down that path.

He groaned, unlocking the stall as if he'd had no more energy to argue against me and when I'd pushed back open the door, he'd had his butt on the ground and his head tilted upwards, Adam's apple bobbing whenever he'd swallowed back air. There was a way about him with his goofy smile and disheveled hair yet he still looked insanely attractive and even more wrecked. His normally cold blue eyes had a brightness despite the bloodshot and the red-hot on his cheeks. "I'm attempting to not let you get expelled, thank me later." I'd said through my checking him out and settled for sitting down on the ground beside him and pulling my knees to my chest.

Picking at the hole in my jeans, I'd sucked in a breath attempting to coax him into just following me out so I didn't have to deal with or really talk to him. He'd surprised me when his head rested gently on my shoulder, the scent of Vincent's room on a Friday night engulfing my nose and I had to stop myself from flinching back.

"Uh..."

Dalton didn't seem to be fazed, "why are you helping me, mate?"

Honestly, I didn't know. I'd convinced myself that it was to get Quinn off my case but if we were being 100%, I didn't really need Quinn as a friend. I'd done well without friends for a long time. The only friend is ever had was a gangly, curly-haired, dark-skinned boy named Freddy that had showed up in August of sixth grade and disappeared in September. He was a nice kid who'd given me my first kiss and moved God knows where in the middle of Utah because his dad was afraid he'd 'catch the gay.'

Safe to say, friends weren't really my forte.

When he'd noticed I didn't intend to reply, Dalton chuckled unlike his other chuckles. This one wasn't bitter as he lent upwards and effectively moved closer to me and he smiled that crooked half-smile. "You know, I lied, you're really cute."

And there went the erratic pounding in my heart that could rival a snare drum and I felt a heat on my cheeks as Dalton moved closer to me. And I knew, I really understood, that I should've been finding a way to get him out of here but all I could focus on was the feeling of his breath on my shoulder and the entire right side of my neck had developed goosebumps.

I felt his lips on my neck, "I'm so high right now, I'm turning into a goddamn poofer."

And I didn't know what that was but it didn't sound good so I'd retracted myself from the boy beside me and stood. Sucking in my frame, I'd chewed on my bottom lip and instructed him to get up, receiving s 'quit your yaking' but he'd obliged.

I attempted not to think about the fact that my skin felt on fire.

-

Wyatt Stevens being a perfectionist had to have been the most adorable yet annoying thing I'd ever experienced. Throughout the three hours he'd been over my house, we'd gone through four outfits, three different lighting setups and a hundred thousand tweaks. After each shot, he'd instructed me to a different pose and I'd had to keep still.

Which, considering my abnormally languid limbs, was a feat in itself. It was hot, the despise I had for hot weather affecting me in a way known as irritation but I'd stuck through and persevered for Wyatt. I wanted him to do well on this photoshoot and although, I hadn't been as confident as expected of me, I'd attempted to put up a front.

On one particular shot, he'd found the pavement to be the best background  and oddly, he'd had me lay on the ground, craning my neck in a stiff fashion that had me cramped. The jean jacket that he'd picked out was hot on my skin, a clammy feeling erupting over my body and luckily not my face. I'd kept my composure as Wyatt laid down on the ground, a little higher and leaning a bit above me although he were pretty far.

He'd snapped a couple and then tapped my chin gently, chewing at his gum in concentration as if he were trying to figure out the right angles. He'd had me turned towards the sun, it beating down angrily on my  left cheek and and my eyes. I'd attempted to level my breathing but as soon as I had, I'd slipped up, ruining his shot midway.

He sighed gently and I thought he'd be mad but the soft smile on his face put me at ease. That was another thing I liked about Wyatt, he kept his composure in even the most irritating of situations; anyone else would've been angry but he wasn't. "Okay so tilt your head a bit to the left."

"Like this?" I'd stretched my neck a bit.

"A little more."

And despite the crick in my neck, I kept stretching, hoping he'd like me more once I pleased him. Running through my head was Quinn's absurd predictions. Was Wyatt gay?

Dalton certainly could be- nope, Wyatt, I like Wyatt. Could Wyatt possibly be into me? If I helped Wyatt, would Wyatt love the pictures and then automatically he'd love me? "Okay."

"A little more, babe."

Nope, I couldn't move anymore or else my head would roll off, "Wyatt, I-I just don't think this is my thing." I'd sighed after slouching, resting back and laying my head down in the pavement, closing my eyes to get the unforgiving sunlight out of my eyes.

"What do you mean?"

Shrugging, I attempted to not feel bad about not being able to get in the position he'd wanted me to, "I'm just not... Special." I wasn't anything special and my family showed exactly that. I was the only one who looked like my parents which was funny considering Aaron was their only biological kid and he was blond. Guess I was born to be nothing important.

"But you are and the camera loves you." Wyatt insisted, sending me that smile that could make a jewel thief stop and wonder if he'd gotten all the immaculate things. Or she, I wasn't judging.

Still, it felt hopeless and Wyatt was probably going to need to find a new model. "I'm-"

"You're great, a good model for my portfolio as well and you need to learn to be more confident."

I'd blushed, my head instinctively shooting to the side to cover my embarrassment from his view.

"A little up," feeling his hand on my cheek, he'd gently shifted my head a bit, smiling softly at me as he craned my neck slightly upwards. And with a tap to my cheek, he'd backed away. I couldn't stop my mind from wandering to the time Dalton had done that when Wyatt snapped the picture and muttered out a "there."

-

"I got some really good shots today, Gabe. Thank you." We'd been outside that day, the jean jacket thrown off and to the side because of the sweat making my neck clammy. Wyatt bad laughed gently when I'd done that, claiming that the heat was radiating off of him and I didn't tell him but I agreed.

He was gorgeous, his bottom lip pulled into his mouth and there as a little shine on his septum piercing. It was a little metal-black one that day and it was brought out by the black piercings in his ears when he'd lent forward to pull his hair up into a bun at the top of his head.

Wyatt was honestly too good to be true.

"Can I see them?" I'd asked, my voice soft and I'd cleared my throat, wiping the corner of my mouth in case I drooled. I had those stupid butterflies in my stomach as I played with the hole in my knee and Wyatt had sat with his legs crossed as if he were in kindergarten. He'd decided to wear a loose brown top that brought out the brown in his eyes and I was momentarily paused. Licking my lips, I re-asked my question and fiddled with my fingers, placing them in my lap to make myself seem less impatient and awkward.

"Yeah." He smiled, opening his camera and facing it towards me so I could see the screen.

And to say I looked ethereal was an understatement.

"You're amazing," on a good day, my hair would be cooperative and I didn't think that was a good hair day but Wyatt proved me wrong. My curls sat pretty over my forehead -thankfully because I was quite self-conscious about it- my skin looked flawless and despite how thin I was, it looked pretty attractive. I felt pretty attractive, "SCAD's not gonna know what hit 'em."

"You remembered that I want to go there?"

Savannah College of Art and Design, Wyatt had first mentioned wanting to go there months ago, when we'd first met. On that memorable day, I'd tried my best to impress him considering he was y first male crush and reasonably, the most stunning specimen of boy I'd ever come across. Aside from his above-average good looks, I'd fallen in love with his photography and had to pretend like I knew the difference between UV and neutral density filters.

I regretted nothing.

Offering my best smile, I gently pushed at his shoulder, looking up at him through my curly bangs that had gotten too long, "You will."

And he had a little nervous gnawing on his bottom lip as he breathed out a sigh. His eyes were hopeful and his gaze kept flickering from me to his hands. "Hey, Gabriel. There's this... there's this fair-"

Of course, he never got to finish his sentence because of a soccer ball flying through the air and gracelessly hitting my mailbox. A loud clang rang through the air and almost as if we'd never spoken in that bathroom, Dalton's voice was harsh as he yelled, my spine stiffening, "Tell your brother to stop kicking his bloody footballs in our yard, yank!"

"Asshole." Wyatt seemed to have shank back, smiling again when I'd looked over at him and the hope was gone, replaced with hesitancy. I sensed he was maybe asking me out before but now, I wasn't so sure, "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"N-nothing. Maybe we should get back to work." But Wyatt Stevens was absolutely, positively straight and why would he ever ask me out?

"Oh- uh. Okay."

Dalton Jones wasn't only rude and indecisive, he was also a complete and utter mood-killer.