3 years earlier

"I have a surprise for you," Colby said slyly. "I made some plans." She strolled toward him slowly with a bright, knowing smile upon her face.

"Plans, huh?" he said, wiping his brow and ditching his shovel. He rested his arms along the top of the stall door. It was hot, and he was sweaty and grimy from his long day of mucking, but Colby wrapped her arms around him without a second thought.

"Plans," she said. She leaned toward him, nipping at his lower lip. He grinned, throwing his arms around her, pulling her closer.

"What are these mysterious plans?" he asked, his forehead resting against hers. He loved that she wasn't a prissy girl—she was never afraid to get dirty.

"You'll have to follow me to find out," she said, squirming out of his arms. She took off, running for the doorway. "C'mon!"

"I'm not done working!" he shouted after her, but it was pointless. She'd already left.

"Listen here, boy."

Wyatt jumped at the sound of the voice. His father, Marty, peeked over the stall wall. Wyatt had forgotten his father was next door, trimming Mindy's hooves.

"Yeah?"

"When a pretty girl tells you to move," Marty said. "You get your ass movin'. I'll finish your chores."

"Thanks, Dad," Wyatt said, grinning.

"Get!" Marty barked, smiling. He was happy to give his hard-working son a break.

...

"Thanks for the picnic, B," Wyatt said, reclining on a blanket by the river that ran through the Byers' family estate. He smiled at the effort he knew she'd put into this gesture. She was spoiled, there was no question, but somehow the pretentious nature that some in her family had inherited had skipped Colby.

He watched her. She was clad in one of his ancient hoodies, happily pouring him a mug of hot chocolate, complete with still powdery lumps. He thought, perhaps, that love wasn't a strong enough word for what he felt.

"Do you like it?" she asked quietly with a nervous smile.

"I love it," he replied, taking her hand in his. He kissed each finger, pausing when he reached the one adorned with silver. She wore the promise he'd made to her weeks before in the form of a pearl ring.

The stable hand and the heiress.

He would never have believed it possible if he hadn't lived the fairy tale himself.

Wyatt

Tap tap tap.

I roll onto my elbow, pulling my headphones from my ears, swearing I heard something. My mom is still on serving duty for Mr. Byers for some fancy-pants charity soiree at Colby's place, so I'm home alone. On the night of the homecoming dance.

Yep, I'm just that cool.

I shut my music off and drop to my floor, slinking along the ground toward the window. If someone's trying to break into my house, they're gonna get their ass whooped. I'm in a helluva foul mood, having spent the day dwelling on my almost kiss with Colby last night. I've been kicking myself all day for not making a move, and I've been equally pissed at her for making me so off balance, yet again.

How am I supposed to move on if she keeps flinging her unavailable self in my path?

I wanted to talk today. I thought about what I'd say to her all night long after I finally left the party. I tossed and turned—even wrote a few things down like a sappy love-struck puppy dog. I was gonna try to clear the air this morning when I saw her for her early morning ride, only she canceled it.

She never cancels.

Then, as if this shit couldn't get any better, I had to watch that cocky prick Cole roll up in a stretch limo to escort my girl to homecoming.

Fine, she's not mine, but damn if I don't want her to be...

Admitting that makes me feel like an overly sensitive, lovelorn pansy, and what in the hell am I doing thinking about feelings? That girl has done messed me up.

Tap tap tap.

Alright, I definitely heard that. Somebody's in for a beat down. I grab my championship trophy from my dresser en route to the window and wait. The window slides open a fraction of an inch.

"Pssst. Wyatt?"

That's a voice I'd know anywhere. Why is she here?

It's been years since she's sneaked through my window...

I rise from my defensive position on the floor and flip the light on my dresser.

"Why are you here, B?" I ask, and it comes out more harshly than I'd intended.

Strike that. I've been hella pissed all day. It's ok to be a little harsh.

"Why don't you help me through this window, and then we can chat," she says, struggling to gain purchase on the siding beneath the windowsill.

She grasps my shoulders, while I put my hands around her waist and pull her upward. It's only then that I realize she's in her homecoming dress, the beadwork and fabric scraping and grinding against the lip of the window. When I set her on her feet, I see that the material from her ribs down is semi-shredded.

She's still the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on.

She clears her throat, and I realize I've been staring. "Your dress—" I begin.

"Yeah, it's okay. That used to be easier in shorts and cowgirl boots," she shrugs, nodding toward the window.

Her words bring me back to reality. That was then, and this is now. It's about time we talked.

"So, did you not have adequate time to push my buttons last night?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest and putting some much-needed distance between us.

"I did no such thing," she says, mirroring me. "I just thought I'd save you from the world of trouble Rachel would've been for you."

"Okay, I'm sure that was all that was," I scoff, briefly distracted by the memory of her smooth skin beneath my rough hands.

Get a grip, asshole.

"Did you come here for a repeat then?" I ask, undeniably hoping her answer is yes, no matter how wrong that would be.

She snorts. Very becoming.

"Not on your life, Dodge," she says, a genuine smile playing on her lips. "At least not the repeat you're thinking of. I was bored at homecoming, and I got to thinking about freshman year. Remember what we did that night?"

It's not what you'd think. And that's a damn shame.

"Aw, hell, are you asking me for a Twilight movie marathon?" I remember that night all too clearly and feel torn. I shouldn't let her come waltzing back into my life like everything is ok whenever she wants to. But then again, can I actually say no?

Ha. Nope.

"Please?" she pleads, her nose scrunching in a way I know she knows I find adorable. She holds her purse up. "I have all five DVD's right here."

I groan. "Fine. How do you always get your way?"

She ignores my question, happily digging through her purse and pulling disk after delightful disk from it, arranging them in order on my bed. I could watch them in any order and still hate my life. Being a guy, sparkly vampires are just never gonna be my thing.

She places her hands on her hips, apparently satisfied. "There," she says, turning to face me. "This'll be fun!"

I give her a dubious look that makes her grin. Okay, so maybe a few hours of vegetarian vampires are worth this.

"Sooo," she begins, seemingly measuring her words. "Can I borrow a t-shirt or something? I don't really wanna do a movie marathon in this." She gestures toward her frayed dress.

I shake my head, suppressing a smile of my own. I'd rather she not be aware of how completely she has me wrapped around her finger. I reach into my dresser and hand her one of my old workout T's.

"Thanks," she says as she grabs the shirt. "Umm..."

Is she blushing?

"Can you, umm... will you unzip my dress?" She turns her back to me.

Ohhhh, jiminy cricket...

"Sure," I say, sounding way more composed than I am. I step behind her and carefully sweep her long blonde hair off of her back and over her bare shoulder. I pretend I don't see her shiver when my fingers brush her neck, swallowing hard as I take hold of the zipper, slowly drawing it downward. "There. There you go."

"Thanks," she says, turning to face me and smiling shyly. She clutches the dress to her chest. "I'll just—"

"Yeah..." I say, stepping out of her way as she moves toward my bathroom.

Hell.

...

I'm popping the first DVD into my player, wondering how long it takes to put on a t-shirt when I hear Colby's phone ring. I invoke ex-boyfriend privilege and grab it from her purse.

"Cole," I say, answering.

"Uh...Colby?" he mumbles.

"Try again, douchebag."

"Who...who is this? Where's Colby?" he asks, and to his credit, sounds duly concerned, even though I can tell he's drunk outta his mind.

"It's Wyatt, dumbass. What do you want?"

"Oh, Wyatt, yeahhhh..." he says between hiccups. "I jusss had to make sure Colby got home. She took a cab. Said she felt sick."

"Sick?"

"Yeah," he slurs. "We were dancing, havin' fun. Even Alex and Trey showed. Helluva time. Then she...she..."

"Got sick?" I supply.

"Yup. I was gonna bring her home, but she wanted me to stay." He pauses. "Hey, why's she with yoooou?"

Ahh, the light bulb finally came on.

"Why wouldn't she wanna be here after spending a whole night with you," I say, ending the call.

"Were you talking to someone?" Colby asks, emerging from my bathroom.

"Just Cole," I say, looking her in the eye. "Why'd you really leave homecoming, B? I'm starting to believe it wasn't out of a sudden surge of nostalgia. Or boredom."

She meets my eyes defiantly. "Nothing more, nothing less," she says evasively, moving into my room toward my TV. She examines one of the DVD boxes intently, no doubt planning to ignore me until I cease making accusations she's unwilling to refute.

She shifts uncomfortably under my scrutiny, and the collar of my old t-shirt slips off of her shoulder, overlarge from excessive wear. It's only then that I fully appreciate her appearance. My shirt swallows her whole, falling just shy of her knees. My eyes linger on her bare legs...

Looks like Colby wins again.