Chapter 32 Tyler #2
I chuckle. "Everyone had a crush on me, baby."
"Don’t you ever call me that in front of other people."
"Why not?" I grab her hand, lacing our fingers together. "If we’re doing this, we’re doing this right."
"You mean you want to act all pubescent and cheesy?"
"Just roll with it, okay?" I tease, leading her down the hallway and toward the gym.
"Weren't you the one who jumped into a pool from the second-floor balcony?" she whispers as we walk. "Why throwing shade at people in their thirties?"
"I'm pretty sure I was twenty-nine at a time," I whisper back.
"Sure," she drawls.
Naomi’s the sparkle on everyone’s lips the moment we walk into the gym. The space itself is a jungle of nostalgia, paper-thin and already wilting. Banners and streamers hang from beams. A couple of massive disco balls. Familiar faces blur by like little time capsules with names I almost remember.
My fingers clutch hers tighter. It feels like a true homecoming, like seventeen years of misery and suppressed emotions didn’t exist, like I’m on top of the world, like I have the most beautiful woman on earth.
Immediately, old friends swarm in, surrounding us in a whirl of chatter and fond hugs, spinning her away from me.
Across the floor, there’s Brittney, Naomi's bestie who’s now a vice principal at the very same school.
Colin Roth, one of Lachlan’s lackeys, is here too, already thoroughly drunk.
Jon waves at me from the opposite side of the gym, all suited up and jittery.
His date is a bit too young. College age young.
But I don’t judge. He’s single. He can do whatever he wants as long as it's consensual and legal.
When I turn around, Naomi’s nowhere to be seen, and for a second, I panic, but it doesn’t last long because I remember that all her friends are here tonight. She's probably mingling.
A hand extends to me. "Tyler. What a surprise to see you here."
I look at the small, round, rosy-cheeked man with a balding head in front of me, trying to remember his name.
"It’s Martin. Martin Bates," he says.
Even though I can't place the guy's face, I give him a solid handshake.
No way I'm going down as the town jerk after this reunion—Lachlan has always locked down that role.
And there he is, in all his glory, holding court across the room with his old crew.
Most of them are sporting beer guts and thinning hair, living proof that some high school legends hit their prime before throwing their caps in the air.
"I let you copy my geometry homework during freshman year once," Martin says like it explains why he approached me.
"That’s right," I lie. "I sucked at geometry. Thanks, man. Saved my life."
Martin seems happy with my acknowledging him finally.
The crowd shift and I finally see where Naomi's gone. She's on the opposite side of the room, talking to Brittney and a few other women whose faces resurface in my mind.
Naomi’s hard to miss in that dress and with that hair.
As if sensing me watching her, she glances in my direction. There’s a playful spark in her eye when she mouths, “You okay?”
I nod, trying not to be that boyfriend, the clingy one who can’t let her have a moment to herself. But the truth is, I’m worried. The truth is, I’m still scared this will go up in flames. Adri’s here somewhere, and we’ve never been a fireproof combination.
I’m chatting with a few guys when one of them grins and asks for an autograph and a selfie. I chuckle, agreeing—might as well embrace the chaos.
Just then, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I’m mid-conversation in an awkward hello with some women who aren’t shy about asking me to hook them up with Justice.
"Um, I don’t think that’s doable," I explain, sounding probably more apologetic than necessary.
The blonde named Lindsey looks scandalized enough for her eyes to nearly pop out. "Oh? You guys aren’t staying in touch?" she presses, curiosity mixed with a hint of gossip-hungry enthusiasm.
"Well, he’s busy. I’m busy—"
"You don’t look too busy to me," the redhead cuts me off.
This is when I use the incoming message as excuse to get out of this strange conversation.
I step away from the foot traffic and into a shadowy corner and glance at the text preview on my screen. It’s from Lennox.
Thanks for taking my call again. Just wanted to throw it out there one last time—the gig is yours if you want it.
This guy is persistent in a polite, nice kind of way. Working with him would probably be easy and fun. I’ve only heard good things about Vortex.
But I'm not biting. I've got Naomi lined up for an epic night, and that's where my head's at.
I put the phone away and search the room for her. She’s by the bar now with Brittney.
I cross the gym, steering past the people glaring at me, not stopping for anyone, just tossing out quick greetings.
"Look who’s here!" Brittney, who’s pretty buzzed, shouts. "It’s Sageview Ridge’s own success story."
I get a drink and stick close to Naomi. I’m a ghost at her side, aware of every glance that lands on us, of every whispered word as the news spreads with the speed of a wildfire. Tonight, it’s just local gossip, but tomorrow, we might be in the tabloids and on social media.
The night continues to pass in a blend of faces and greetings. And it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. While some of my classmates are weird, most are nice and genuine.
Then comes a voice I recognize, the kind that finds a spot under your skin and stays there.
"Well, well, well," Lachlan says, smug and sticky, appearing out of nowhere, a glass of liquor in hand. "Interesting turn of events."
He’s dressed like a walking payday—Armani and cologne and too much hair gel. He eyes Naomi like she’s dessert, and I’m not sure which of us it pisses off more.
"Let’s not pretend we’re friends," Naomi says sternly.
"We could never be friends, princess," he tells her, leaning in.
I shove him away. "Don’t you dare."
He takes a step back, probably not wanting to be humiliated again. "Guess you’re finally not too good for the rest of us, huh, Brady."
"Fuck off," I hiss out.
Lachlan’s smile is too big, like he thinks he’s charming, like he thinks he’s in charge. "Tyler Brady. Always the cocky asshole who believes he’s better than everyone."
"You’re confusing me with yourself."
"Your entourage looks bored, Pratt," Naomi jumps in smoothly. "Better get back before they find another clown."
Lachlan’s jaw tics.
"Come on." I snake my arm around Naomi’s waist and steer us away from that douchebag.
"He’s going to make a scene before the night ends," she whispers as we weave through the tables.
"You think?"
"I know. Jerk can’t help it."
"Seems like it."
"You okay? If we need to take off…"
"No," I insist. "I told you I’d win the bet."
"Well, you showed up. You suffered through an hour of catching up with our former classmates. I think it’s safe to say you did win it."
"So I get my wish?"
She rolls her eyes, leaning into me, our shadows mingling under the gym’s buzzing lights. "You get your wish."
"Anything?"
"Yes."
Another round of hellos, another group of old friends I barely recollect, then fresh air and the nighttime sky as we slip outside, dodging the heat and the history.
That’s when we see Adri. The goddamned wrecking ball.
He’s by the door, talking to some of the guys in uniform, probably laying out security plans, but his eyes latch onto us immediately.
He dismisses the others with a nod and makes his way over, dark and fierce as the desert at night. My hand tenses around Naomi’s, and she knows. She knows because I can’t keep my heart from thundering, from worrying I’m about to blow everything I’ve managed to piece together.
She lets go, walking a little ahead, meeting Adri halfway with a smile I’m not expecting.
"Is this the city’s new look?" she teases. "Shiny badge but same grumpy face."
"Very funny, Shrimp." His hard glance drifts past her to land on me. "Figured you two would skip this."
"We’re all about nostalgia these days." She’s casual, so sure of herself, like she’s not caught in a three-way trainwreck.
"Huh." He pauses, his gaze flicking back to her. "Guess you’ve gone completely insane, then."
I move closer, ready for the hit, ready to take it when he decides to unload.
"Parading Brady around like it’s nothing? As if he didn’t ruin your life?" His voice is low and controlled, a controlled explosion. "This whole town’s going have a good laugh, Naomi. He’ll take off, and you’ll be the punchline."
Naomi doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t waver. She stands there, as defiant as I’ve ever seen, and I wonder if this is it, if this is where she realizes what she’s signed up for.
"Thanks for the warning," she says. Her eyes don’t leave her brother’s. "I’ll take my chances."
He stares at her, then me, then her again. He doesn’t know what to do with this version of his sister, this stubborn, confident, we’re-in-it-together version that refuses to budge.
I see the moment he gives up, see it in the hard set of his jaw as he spins and stalks away, leaving me standing there, wondering what just happened, if maybe this is going to be okay after all.
Naomi turns, her face unreadable. Her shoulders lift in a small carefree shrug.
"You're okay?" I ask.
"I hear the food tonight’s gonna be the bomb," she replies matter-of-factly. "It’s a catering company from Palm Springs I’ve heard a lot of good things about." She loops her arm through mine. "I’m hungry."
I blink, stunned.
"Let's go eat."
By the time we make it back inside and find our table, the rumor of us has already spread through the entire school and probably the town.
I bet some of these bozos are texting their friends and relatives to tell them that Tyler Brady and Naomi Medina are back together and holding hands at their seventeenth high school reunion.