Wyatt

Against my better judgment, I follow Jesse to the phone situated at the front of the station. I know there are bars separating Colby from old Buck, and I don't really find him to be a threat, but it's still making me twitchy being this far away from her.

At the end of the day, it's my fault that she's here. While we've had a hell of a night, reconnecting in ways I've only entertained in the privacy of my own mind, the revival of our friendship never should have happened in jail.

Picking up the receiver, I dial one of the only phone numbers I still know by heart. One hefty exhale later, and I'm bracing myself for the onslaught of questions that are bound to come my way, as I make the phone call every mother dreads receiving from their angel of a son.

"Hello?" my mom answers, her voice tight and anxious. I suppose caller ID may have ratted me out.

"Mom," I say, guilt hanging in the silence that follows, due to my as yet undisclosed sins.

"What did you do, son?" she says in a clipped, even tone. Leave it to her to be reasonable, increasing the shame already mocking me.

"Mom, we got the flag," I say, hoping to give her some good news before the bad.

"And?"

"Well...B and me," I begin cautiously, wondering how a five-foot-one inch woman can scare the shit outta me. "We got caught, and now we're at the police station across town."

She sighs. "I'm on my way, baby. I won't tell Mr. Byers, as I'm sure you're wholly responsible for this exploit. She shouldn't be held to account for your poor choices."

Ouch.

"Thanks," I say, decidedly relieved. She's nowhere near as pissed as she deserves to be, but I know I'm not outta the woods here. She'll have her own special way of making me pay for this evening's misdeeds.

"Oh, and baby?" she adds. "If you're gonna wind up in the clink, I'm glad you at least had the sense to get tossed in with Colby." I hear the humor in her voice as she disconnects.

...

I'm greeted by Colby's smile when Jesse returns me to my cell, and while I do feel remorse over our current circumstances, I can't say I'll regret all the uninterrupted time we get together.

"Hey! Lookths like your boyfriendths back!" Buck hollers from behind the barrier of gray bars, where he lays on the makeshift bed.

Okay. Not completely uninterrupted.

I nod his way, acknowledging his enthusiasm and then head straight for Colby. She's seated on the tiny cot in the corner, and I can tell she's trying desperately to keep as little of herself as possible from touching it. In fact, I'm not sure how she hasn't slipped to the floor, as her backside only occupies the very edge of the mattress, her hands clasped in a white-knuckle grip before her.

A heinous idea crosses my mind. I simply can't pass it up.

I plop down next to her lazily, and I see her slender legs strain to hold her position on the edge. I run my hands in circles over the surface of the dingy sheet, grinning wickedly. Understanding sparks, but it's too late.

"Stop! Wyatt, stop!" She giggles when I place my contaminated hands on either side of her face.

"Eww! Why?" she yelps, shoving my hands away and pawing at her skin. Her lips form a sour pout as she fusses over her freshly tainted self.

"'Cause it was funny," I snicker, and it feels like the good old days.

"Okay," she says gamely, having collected herself. "You wanna play dirty, let's play dirty."

Damn. I see fire in her eyes, and I love it.

"What'sth goin' on over there," Buck grunts, sneaking a peek in our direction.

"We're about to play truth or dare," Colby says, waggling her eyebrows. "Right?"

"Hell, yeah," I answer. It's on.

"I'm counting that stunt of yours as a dare for myself," she asserts stubbornly, smoothing her hands over the fabric of her pants. I don't doubt for a moment that it's in a futile attempt to remove the residual microbes from my scandalous antics.

Ha. That was so worth the trouble I'm in now.

She scoots rearward until her back touches the wall, and I mentally applaud myself for helping her get over her fear of parasites. Doctor Matheson for the win.

"So," she continues sassily. "Now it's your turn. Truth or dare?"

"Truth," I declare.

She smiles knowingly. "You always were afraid of dares."

"Not always," I contend, and the world's prettiest blush stains her cheeks. She remembers that day, too. Our first kiss.

I know I'll never forget it.

"Truth, it is," she continues shyly, fidgeting with the zipper of her sweatshirt. "Alright. Tell me how many times you've been in love." Her eyes meet mine, and I see a mix of defiance and hope. I fold my arms across my chest, and the silence between us stretches from here to eternity.

"Cat gotchur tongue, sthon?" Buck pipes up.

Hell.

"Once," I finally manage, and neither of us looks away. Her features fill with triumph. She knows she was my first love, and probably believes she'll be my last. If only I could tell her that I believe that, too.

"My turn," I say, my voice cutting through the palpable tension, the volume startling us both out of our rapture. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," she says quietly, recapturing her composure. A smug smile forms on her lips, and I know what she's thinking. What sorts of dares can one devise in a jail cell?

I search our cozy space, seeking something worthy. Colby's always been brave where my dares are concerned, and I don't wanna let her down. I'd also like to alleviate some of the remaining intensity between us.

My eyes land upon something so sinister, I'm not sure I can go through with it.

I move to the edge of the cell, extending my arm through the bars. I stretch, reaching toward the object on the floor beneath a now snoozing Buck. Guess the alcohol finally hit.

With one final push, my shoulder straining into the cool metal, my fingers pinch the objective.

Old Buck's sucker.

I draw the sucker toward me, examining my prize. It's dotted with various debris and hair and smells faintly of booze. I turn to Colby, raising the ruby red sucker before me. "I dare you to lick this."

She gasps, the regret written all over her.

"Bet you wish you'd picked truth, huh?" I say, grinning.

I see resolve surging through her as her chin tips upward boldly. "Give it to me."

She takes the damp stick between her fingers, her reluctance plain. She gulps, wincing as she's undoubtedly catching a whiff of the boozy scent clinging to the candy. Her eyes begin to water as the sucker moves ever closer to her outstretched tongue.

Shit. She's gonna do it.

I slap the sucker out of her hand, and it falls, shattering on the floor like stained glass.

"Wyatt!" she shrieks. "I was gonna do it!"

"I know, B!" I say, matching her tone. "I couldn't let you, that's nasty!"

"Well, it was your dare!" She puts her hands on her hips, prickling with frustration.

"Hey! That waths mine."

I turn to find an angry Buck staring at the ruined sucker, enraged.

"You sthouldn't have thstolen that!" he shouts. "I would've sthared it if you athsked! Hey Jesthe! Jesthe!"

"What's going on here?" Jesse asks, and I catch the amusement in his tone.

"They thstole my sthucker!" Buck says, indicating the two of us with a shaking finger.

We look guilty as sin, and we're desperately close to losing our tenuous control.

"Hang tight, Buck. I'll bring you another sucker," Jesse says. "Wyatt and Colby, you're free to go. Your mom is here."

I grab Colby's hand and we swiftly exit the unlocked door, making our way to the station lobby, where we collapse into fits of laughter.

"What's so funny?" my mom says from behind us, bringing a quick end to our revelry.

"Nothing at all," I say, wiping my features of all humor. "It was nothing. We're ready to go."

"I'll bet you are," mom says, as we penitently follow her to the car.

...

We reach my house in the dead of the night. I rode in the back with Colby, our fingers interlaced between us. My mom didn't have much to say on the drive home, making small talk with Colby that tells me I'm not in too much trouble. She heads into the house, eager to get to bed, and Colby and I linger by the car a little longer.

"Do you want me to take you home?" I ask, and I'm not in a hurry, but also recognize the lateness of the hour. We still have school in the morning, and I have a game tomorrow night.

"I guess," she says, but I sense her reluctance. "Or, we could go somewhere."

"Where to?"

"Let's just drive," she whispers, running her fingers over my chest. I can see that she's not ready for the night to end.

Neither am I.