A/N: So, here we go. This is a new multichap AU that came from a conversation with my Brigade fam. We spiraled and then I started writing this. I have thirteen chapters finished and I'm still going. I've tried to keep this one under wraps as I worked on it because it's an AU I never thought I would write. But I'll be damned if I didn't get carried away by it.

You ready for this?

This is a high school AU. That's right. Lyatt in high school. It's been a good 12 years since I was in high school but here we go!

Thanks to the AB for all the amazing support!

Happy reading!

angellwings

PS - the title comes from a Keith Urban song called "Horses". Also each chapter will have a different song mentioned that will ultimately compile my soundtrack that I've been listening to while I write.

What Your Heart Is Made For

By angellwings

CHAPTER ONE: And There You Were

I needed the shelter of someone's arms,
And there you were.

I needed someone to understand my ups and downs,
And there you were.

-"How Sweet It Is", Marvin Gaye

What a fucking shitty day. But that was no surprise. His entire life was one shitty day after another. Especially since starting high school. Yeah, okay, he had his friends and more often than not he got to raise a little hell. It was the only way to blow off his particular brand of steam. Besides, after high school graduation life would only get worse. Now was the time to be an asshole. It was always chalked up to being a teenager. So, he was going for it as long as he could get away with it.

That's what had him leaving school at 4:30 in the afternoon. Apparently, using your oral Spanish test to deliver an innuendo filled speech was inexcusable. Never mind that his language skills surpassed every other kid in the class. If not for his chosen subject matter, he would have gotten an A.

Instead he got detention.

And now he was late for work. His dad was going to be livid. God, how he hated that man. He was counting down the days until he turned eighteen and he could leave him in the dust. Hopefully, in that old Chevy his dad revered so much. The bastard was too drunk to work on it most of the time anyway. He didn't deserve it.

As he approached his car, he heard a frustrated curse off in the distance. He turned toward the sound and narrowed his eyes. A girl, his age, was climbing out of her outdated Honda. Brunette, long legs in tight jeans, button up blouse, with a fitted tweed blazer. A grin spread across his face as he immediately recognized the driver.

Lucy Preston.

He would know those suede elbow patches anywhere.

He glanced quickly at the time on his phone as he watched her flail and yell at her car. He was an hour late for work he really didn't have time for this. He threw his bag and his jacket in his backseat as he started his car. The outside of it may look like a junker but the engine practically purred. There wasn't much Wyatt Logan was good at, but if nothing else he was good with an engine.

He flicked his gaze over to Lucy Preston one last time. He winced as she reared her leg back to kick her tire in frustration. She was going to regret that. He knew from experience. Sure enough, a second later another expletive left her mouth followed by floundering one legged hops. He bit back a chuckle at her expense and shook his head.

He was already late. His dad was likely as pissed as he was going to get. What would a few more minutes really hurt? He drove across the parking lot toward her car and tried not take it personally as her eyes skeptically catalogued his every move. He couldn't blame her for being wary. Lucy Preston wasn't exactly the type of girl who normally associated with him. They were from opposite ends of town. Hers was a world of academia in a neighborhood where every house had a damn three car garage. And his…

Well, the nicest thing in his world was his car and it looked like he bought it from a demolition derby.

"Need some help?" He asked as he stepped out of the driver's side. He tried to look as open and friendly as he could, looking menacing was a bad habit for him according to his girlfriend - no, ex-girlfriend as of the start of the school year.

"Oh, um, no, that's...that's okay. As soon as my mom gets out of her lecture I'll give her a call and it'll all be fine," she said as she leaned against the side of her car.

That was probably more to take pressure off of her injured foot than anything else. If she was trying to sound casual, she was failing miserably. There was a brittle quality to her voice and a flush in her cheeks that told him she was definitely not fine. Her grip on her phone tightened when he didn't start to leave, and he ignored her anxious glance around the parking lot. A lot of people at school were afraid of him. He barely noticed anymore.

"You sure? Cause I mean, I'm pretty handy with cars," he said as he pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the beat up Dodge Charger he was currently driving.

It was nearly 50 years old and when he bought it for dirt cheap a few months back there was almost nothing under the hood that worked. It had taken most of his savings, but he brought it back to life. The exterior was the only thing that he hadn't found the time or money to touch.

She bit her bottom lip as she looked from him to her car and then down at her phone. He heard her let out a shuddering sigh as her shoulders sagged and she stepped away from the Honda.

"I suppose if you can get that thing running you would have to be," she said with a tiny teasing grin as she motioned to his car. "Wouldn't you?"

"If you think she looks like a piece of shit now, you should have seen her when I bought her just before summer break," he told her with a light chuckle.

He hadn't expected the subtle burn from her, but he liked it.

"Her?" She asked as her grin spread wider. "Your car is a female?"

"All cars are females," he answered with a shrug. "Even your finicky little Honda here."

"Finicky?" She raised the volume of her voice and quirked a brow at him but there was humor in her eyes. "If my car had a personality at all, she would not be finicky."

"All Hondas are finicky just like all cars are female," he insisted. "Can you pop the hood?" He pointed to the driver's side door she was standing next to and then went to wait at the front of the car.

She opened her door and reached inside. He heard the click of the hood release before he reached under and found the safety latch. He lifted the hood and propped it up.

"Thanks for this, by the way," she said as she appeared next to him. "I don't think we've ever actually met. I'm-"

"Lucy Preston, most likely to succeed. I know who you are."

"We're juniors. We haven't done superlatives." Her tone sounded flat and unimpressed as if she were annoyed he cut off her chance to introduce herself.

"I don't need to vote on superlatives to know that's who you are." He chuckled as he looked over her engine. Nothing seemed amiss. He checked her oil for good measure. "You're all but guaranteed to be our valedictorian, if I make it to graduation, that is," he said with a smirk and a casual lift of his shoulder.

"A guy who looks as comfortable as you do with a car engine is smart enough to finish high school, Wyatt Logan."

He turned on the spot, dipstick from her car still in hand, and gave her a startled glance. He didn't know she even—

"What? You didn't think I knew who you were?" She asked as she bit down on her bottom lip with a bashful grin.

His eyebrows lifted as a smirk formed on his lips. He put the dipstick back before he replied. "We don't exactly run in the same circles so I wasn't sure."

"It's hard not to notice a guy who breaks so many of the rules. Let me guess, you're leaving detention? I heard about your little stunt in Tredway's class."

He felt her eyes on him as he walked back over to his own car and opened his trunk. "If you're going to lecture me, save it. I got enough of that from Tredway herself, in Spanish no less."

"Why do you assume I would lecture you?" Lucy asked him with a curious smile. "Because I'm a good student?"

"Good student?" He asked with a laughing scoff. "You're so far beyond good student. Why are you here an hour after school? Newspaper? Yearbook? That academic quiz bowl thing you and all the other nerds do? Or some disaster relief charity drive you've decided to captain? It could be any one of those well rounded over achieving things you future Ivy League kids like to do."

He was teasing her, but she looked genuinely offended. She rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest. A sure sign that he hit a nerve. "I wasn't going to lecture you. Tredway is a horrible woman and an even worse teacher. I was going to tell you I thought it was funny but you seem to think I'm a humorless goody two shoes so-"

"Whoa. Whoa, there, Valedictorian." He chuckled at her and held his hands up in surrender. "You're putting words in my mouth. I never said you were humorless. And goody two shoes? I don't think I've called anyone that ever. I may be the school asshole but I'd like to think I'm a little more creative than that." He grabbed his jumper cables out of his trunk and closed it before he continued. "Besides, you're the one who looked at me when I pulled up like you were afraid for your life. I don't think I'm the one making the assumptions here."

"I-I wasn't afraid for my life," she stuttered out. Her voice was low and sheepish.

"But you were afraid of me," he stated. It wasn't a question. He already knew the answer.

"No, not of you," she told him with an apologetic wince. "Of people seeing you talking to me."

He snorted derisively as he lifted the hood of his Charger. "You're not going to ruin your reputation with one conversation."

"My reputation is the least of my concerns," she admitted. "The faculty here know my mother. Not to mention…"

Her sentence trailed off as she watched him hook the cable between her car and his.

"Don't shy away from my feelings now, Preston. Not to mention what exactly?" he said as she straightened and met her eyes.

He knew the minute he met her eyes that he made a mistake. Her eyes were a warm chocolate shade of brown and wide open for him to read. That's what happens when you grow up with a mean drunk. You learn to read emotions. But he never read anyone's so clearly as he read hers. She was anxious and apologetic, but more than that…

She was scared.

"It's nothing," she said with a forced chuckle. "Just...my ex can be a little, I don't know, petty sometimes."

His eyebrows rose. "Petty?" He was certain she was understating it.

"I broke up with him and, you know, he's a little sensitive about it. That's all," she said dismissively.

"What the hell does that mean?" Wyatt asked her with narrowed eyes.

"Don't worry about it. I only brought it up to say that I was making sure he wasn't here," she said with a huff and a shrug. Clearly, she didn't want discuss it. "What are you doing?"

"There's nothing wrong with your car so I can only assume it's the battery," he answered as he walked around the car to sit in the driver's side.

Moving on from her vague hints of a troublesome ex was proving hard for him to do. It shouldn't be. He didn't really know her. He just knew of her. How could he not? She was too easy to notice. From his first day, freshman year, she stood out among all the other girls. Not that she would ever give him the time of day. They were total opposites. Besides, he had Jess. Or did have Jess. He doesn't anymore.

He looked away from her and down at his steering wheel as a strange wave of nerves washed over him. His thoughts had boomeranged between Lucy and Jess and a part of him wasn't sure what to do with that. So he didn't do anything with it. He pretended it never happened, instead. As he started his car and let it run, Lucy leaned in his open window.

"Really, thanks," she said with a warm smile. "I'm late for picking up my sister from her karate class. Mom will kill me if I leave her there much longer."

"No problem. We'll have you out of here in a few minutes. But you should have someone test your battery. You might need a new one. You're also overdue for an oil change. If you go too long between changes you could damage your engine."

Smooth, Wyatt, he thought to himself. Lecture the girl on car maintenance. That's what she wants to hear.

"Right," Lucy replied with a smirk and a mock salute. "I'll make sure it gets done."

Could she be any more of a dork? His nerves faded away and he felt amusement pull the corners of his mouth upward into a faint smile.

Her eyes widened and she stood back from his door with a shocked expression. "Did Wyatt Logan just smile? I've heard a lot of things about you, Logan, but I've never once heard that anyone has ever seen you smile."

"Yeah, well I knew you were a dork but I have to say, that's the first time I've ever actually seen someone salute in a normal conversation," he told her with a soft laugh.

"Really? Well, that's a shame. Maybe I should bring it back?"

"Back? I think you can only bring it back if it was normal to begin with."

"Are you saying I'm not normal?" She asked with a glare. The beaming smile on her face contradicted the glare and he knew she was messing with him.

"If the shoe fits," he replied with a shrug as he opened his car door. "Try starting your car now."

She scrambled over to her car and turned the key. It hesitated but roared to life after a worrisome delay.

"Oh, thank god," Lucy exclaimed as she hugged the steering wheel in relief. She left the car running and got out as he was removing the cable. "You are a lifesaver. Thank you!"

"I couldn't just leave you here yelling and hurting yourself," he said with a wink. "Your foot okay? You kicked that tire pretty hard."

She blushed crimson and covered her face with her hands. "You saw that?" She asked.

He nodded and smirked. "Yeah but, trust me, it wasn't any worse than that time that basketball knocked you out in gym class."

"Oh. My. God. I forgot we had gym together freshman year. Or, well, more accurately blocked it out. I hated gym class." Her voice was still muffled behind her hands and he could see her red cheeks through the gaps in her fingers.

"Can't say I blame you," he said with a laugh. "You ended up going to the nurse nearly every class if I recall."

"Yeah, Nurse Edna and I are real close. Practically best friends."

She was genuinely funny. How had he never known this? Oh, right, he spent most of freshman year and all of sophomore year tangled up in Jessica's web of drama. How could he forget?

"I should go," she said as she took a deep fortifying breath and removed her hands from her face. Her cheeks were still red but her mortification was fading. "Thank you so much for the jump! I'm sure you had better things to do than help me."

"I had things to do but I wouldn't call them better," he told her. Especially not when they involved his father.

"Oh, okay, um - either way, thank you," she replied as her cheeks started color again.

"You're welcome, ma'am."

Ma'am? Where the hell had that come from? Other than teachers or elders he actually respected, he never called anyone "ma'am." Unless…

His Grandpa Sherwin used to call his Grandma "ma'am." Playfully. Wyatt had always marveled at their relationship. It was nothing like his own parents' relationship. But why would his idiot brain decide now was the time to channel his grandfather?

"Ma'am?" She asked with a quirked brow as he walked her back toward her driver's side door. He opened it for her as she glared at him. "You do know we're the same age, right?"

He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I was just...trying to be polite."

"Seriously? Don't you have a bad boy reputation to protect?" She asked him with a teasing grin.

"Yeah, I do so let's keep that between us, okay?"

She watched him with bright mischievous eyes as she sat down in her car and closed the door behind her. "There's more to you than you let people see, isn't there?"

He leaned through her open window to meet her chocolate eyes again and shook his head. "No. I am exactly what people think I am. Don't think my helping you out changes that. I'm just as much a waste of potential as I was before. Promise."

She smiled sadly at him and shook her head. "I don't think that's true. I don't think that has ever been true."

"Shows how little you know me then," he said with a dry smirk and a scoff.

"Or maybe it shows how little you know yourself."

He blinked at her for what felt like an eternity but could only have been a few minutes. Did she just…encourage him? He was fine with a little harmless flirting but this was treading the lines of a serious conversation. It wasn't often someone expressed a sentiment like that. Not about him. He felt something akin to hope bubble up in his chest and promptly squashed it back down. That wasn't for him. Hope was for suckers like Lucy Preston. Those kids who had the world on a string and parents who wanted them. Hope was their thing. Not his.

He stepped back from her car with a shake of his head. "You're getting your side of town confused with mine, Valedictorian. You come from the neighborhood where the kids know the whole world is at their feet. I come from the neighborhood where the kids know they're not getting out. Trust me, I know the reality of my situation very well. I was beaten before I was born. No sense telling myself otherwise," he replied. When he paused she looked as though she wanted to interject, but he decided to talk over her before she could. She would not suck him in to this delusion that he was anything more than a screw up. "It was nice to truly meet you, Lucy Preston," he said with a strained grin. "I wish I could say I'll see you around but we both know that's not likely."

He didn't wait for her to say anything else. He threw the jumper cables in his backseat sped off into the afternoon sun. Back to real life where no one knew what the hell hope actually meant. Back to his drunk bastard of an old man who was literally going to have his hide for being nearly an hour and a half late for work.

As he sped out of the parking lot, the image of Lucy Preston's large brown eyes flashed across his memory and he couldn't help but think…

Worth it.