Back to December

Nine

I take the final sip of my Starbucks, regretting getting a hot coffee and not an iced one as I worm my way through the crowd, making my way to a nearby trashcan. The mall is packed, filled with warm bodies, all trying to get their Christmas shopping done. Aside from Skye, who mom had gripped tightly, scared to lose her amongst the swarm of people, we'd all gone our separate ways upon entering the mall, planning to meet in one hour at the lineup for Santa.

Shopping for Nikki had been a breeze. If there was one thing I knew about moms, it was that they love sentimental gifts. I went to the specialty jewelry store on the far side of the mall, where I picked up a gold pendant necklace with a T engraved on it. Beside the circle-shaped pendant was a small emerald charm, Tom's birthstone.

I was near the escalator that led to the second floor of the mall when Wyatt literally ran into me, out of breath, "Oh, thank god," He is practically wheezing, his baseball hat that he'd put on to conceal his identity slightly askew, revealing his curls. He still wore his sunglasses too, despite being indoors. "Marley, you've got to help me. I was shopping, but then this girl recognized me. I tried shushing her, but she'd revealed who I was before I could... there are dozens of them, and they're headed this way."

I scoff, pushing his hand off my arm as I shake my head, "Crazed fangirls are chasing you through the mall?" I ask him. My tone laced with disbelief. It sounded so cliché, the kind of thing that'd only happen in a movie. All I can hear is various conversations happening around us and the Christmas music playing on the radio. No screaming fangirls insight. Wyatt nods, his breathing finally regular. "I'm sure you'll survive," I nod at him, turning on my heel to continue walking.

I expect Wyatt to call after me, but something else stops me in my tracks before I can walk away. The sound of squealing makes my ears ring as a group of teenage girls approach me, their footsteps making loud noises against the floor. The group of girls looks to be around Harper's age, their eyes wide as they search for Wyatt.

Before I can think of what to do, Wyatt grabs my wrist, dragging me over to a nearby photo booth. He goes in first, dragging me in behind him, "believe me now?" He asks, tugging his hat off. His curls are dishevelled and all over the place. He takes his sunglasses off next, revealing his wide green eyes.

"What are you doing?" I whisper yell, trying to scoot as far away from him as possible. I hadn't been in a photo booth since I was a kid. Wyatt and I fit on the seat, but our sides were pressed against one another. "Could you at least have found a bigger hiding place?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Wyatt mutters sarcastically, trying to keep his voice down, "that wasn't really my top priority when looking for somewhere to hide." Wyatt groans as the girls begin screaming his name, leaning his face in his hands as he lets out a frustrated sigh. I could feel his leg shaking against mine, "I can't believe she recognized me," He mumbled, more to himself than to me, "I'd been so careful..."

"Clearly not careful enough," I mutter, trying to shift my leg away from his.

"Can you not?" Wyatt sighs, looking over at me. I don't think I've ever seen Wyatt so frustrated. He was always so chill back in high school. Nothing fazed him back then. For the first time since he's arrived, I take note of the slight bags under his eyes. He was exhausted. I'd be tired too if I had to constantly worry about random teenagers chasing me throughout public places.

I don't apologize, but I do nod, turning my attention to the screen in front of us instead. It flashes for us to put a dollar in the machine to begin taking our pictures, something neither of us reach forward to do. It seems as if the crowd of girls has gotten bigger. The more people they informed about Wyatt, the louder they became.