Chapter 38 Crazier
Crazier
Ali
Ali blinked awake to the pale gray light of morning and a dull ache behind her eyes. The sweetness of the Red Moscato always left her with a headache.
Thank you very much, Diabetes.
Her head rested against the sidearm of the couch, her body curled awkwardly in the same spot she’d been in for hours.
Her neck was stiff. Her shirt, wrinkled.
Somewhere across the room, Ashley was snoring softly beneath the throw blanket Ali had tucked around her after they’d polished off two glasses of red wine and a half-eaten pint of mint chocolate chip.
Everything from last night rushed back in slow motion—the slammed door, Ashley’s teary rant about Brant and the baby voice he used in arguments (which was, yes, as horrifying as it sounded), the way Ali had shifted gears instantly.
From aching to hear Dylan’s voice… to being the friend someone needed.
She reached for her phone on the coffee table and unplugged it from the charger.
Twenty-seven notifications. Group texts. Work emails. A DM from Abigail. Probably a meme or a Reel about the Night Court or the Inner Circle—one of their favorite fandoms.
And two messages from Dylan.
She tapped it without thinking.
Sleep tight, baby. I’ll be here when you’re ready to say it out loud.
I love you too.
Ali sat bolt upright.
Oh my god.
Her heart launched into a sprint, like it was trying to leap out of her chest and run straight to Florida.
No. No no no. I didn’t—
She scrolled up.
Read her own text again.
I love you.
Shit!
She groaned inwardly.
She hadn’t even realized she’d said it. It had just…slipped out. She’d been flustered and tired and trying to reassure him. Trying to keep it simple. Familiar. She used to say it all the time, back when they were kids playing house in a dorm room.
But that was ten years ago.
And now?
Now it was real. And she’d said it first.
Without thinking.
Without meaning to.
And he’d said it back.
Ali dropped the phone onto her lap and stared at the ceiling like maybe it would open up and swallow her whole.
“I’m an idiot,” she whispered.
Ashley stirred from across the room. “You’re not an idiot. You’re just in love.”
Ali looked over, wide-eyed. “You read my texts in your sleep?”
Ashley sat up slowly, her hair wild, one eye barely open. “No. But I know that look. That’s the Dylan-just-broke-my-brain with-one-sentence face.”
Ali groaned and buried her face in her hands.
Ashley smirked.
Ali (unsent):
Okay so I know I said “I love you” last night and I think I might have blacked out emotionally?
? I didn’t even realize I said it until I woke up and saw your text.
But I did mean it. I think. I mean—no, I do.
God, this is already a disaster. I should not be allowed to text before coffee. Please don’t freak out.
Her thumb hovered over send.
She’d typed it. All of it. The truth, messy and earnest and terrifying.
But her chest clenched and her stomach flipped, and at the very last second—backspace.
She deleted the whole thing. Every word.
“Coward,” she muttered.
Ashley made a noise that might’ve been an agreement or just a yawn.
Ali sighed and stared down at the screen again, trying to will herself to be brave. To just text him back, like a normal human being in a healthy, grown-up relationship.
And that’s when it happened.
The typing bubble appeared.
Her stomach dropped straight through the couch.
Oh my gawd.
He was typing.
She froze.
Did he see her typing bubble and realize she was wigging out? Could he feel it through the screen? Was he about to say it was too soon? That he needed to slow down? That she’d scared him off?
Then the message appeared.
Stop spiraling, sweetheart. I know you love me. It’s okay. I’ve got you. And I love you too.
Ali blinked.
Her breath caught.
She read it once. Twice.
And then her whole body melted into the cushions.
She let the phone fall to her chest, hands over her face, eyes burning for no good reason except maybe he always knew what she needed before she did.
He didn’t tease.
He didn’t question.
He just held her.
Even from hundreds of miles away.
And somehow, in that moment, the fear cracked open—and love slipped in like sunlight.
Ali wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of Dylan’s T-shirt and sat up a little straighter, the phone still warm on her chest. His message glowed back at her like it knew it had unraveled her.
Stop spiraling, sweetheart. I know you love me. It’s okay. I’ve got you. And I love you too.
She let the words sink in again.
She hadn’t ruined it.
He wasn’t scared.
He knew—and instead of running, he pulled her closer.
Her fingers trembled as she unlocked her phone and tapped out a reply.
You always know when I’m spiraling. It’s unfair. And deeply annoying. And also the only reason I’m not currently crying into a throw pillow.
Pause.
Then she added:
I meant it. I love you. So much. Even when you’re miles away. Even when I’m a mess. Maybe especially then.
She hovered for half a second. Then hit send.
Her message was barely delivered when the screen lit up again.
Can I FaceTime you? Only if you promise not to freak out. Just wanna see your face for a minute.
Ali let out a soft laugh, wiping under her eyes again. Of course he would ask. Of course he’d know she might need a second to steady herself.
She texted back:
You’re annoying. And yes. Gimme 30 seconds. Gotta move to my room before I cry in front of Ashley.
She pushed herself off the couch, as Ashley let out a sleepy hmmph from the couch, and hurried toward her room with the phone cradled to her chest like it might disappear if she wasn’t holding on tight.
She climbed into bed, tucked the comforter over her legs, and pulled her messy bun through the top of her scrunchie to fix it.
Then hit Accept.
Dylan’s face filled the screen— hoodie collar up around his neck, that sleepy grin tugging at his mouth.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, voice warm and low.
Ali melted instantly. “Hey.”
He stared at her for a second, his expression soft. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Better now.”
“You sure?” His brow creased.
“Yeah,” she whispered, smiling. “You saying ‘I’ve got you’ kind of short-circuited my brain, so… yeah.”
He laughed. “Good. That was the goal.”
She leaned her head against her pillow, the tension easing from her chest. “I think I’m just gonna spend the day vegging out with Ash. After last night…”
He nodded. “Sounds like a solid plan. Reruns and recovery?”
“Exactly.” She smiled. “Probably something chaotic and nostalgic. Like Hannah Montana or Cadet Kelly.”
Dylan smirked. “As long as you promise to send me a picture of you both wearing face masks and eating Oreos out of the bag.”
“You’re asking for a lot, sir.”
He grinned. “I miss your face.”
She looked down for a second, cheeks warm. “I miss yours too.”
A long beat of silence passed between them—comfortable this time. Full.
“I’ll let you rest,” he said gently. “Call me tonight?”
“Obviously.”
He winked. “Love you, Ali.”
Her throat tightened again—but it didn’t scare her this time.
“Love you too.”
The screen went dark as the call ended, and she exhaled, curling onto her side just as Ashley shuffled down the hall and peeked into her room.
“You decent?”
Ali laughed. “Barely.”
Ashley climbed in beside her with zero hesitation and tugged the blanket over them both. “Hannah Montana or High School Musical?”
Ali didn’t even blink. “Hannah Montana. Season one. Chaos and bad wigs.”
Ashley grinned. “You’re my soulmate.”
They pressed play and let the old theme song fill the room, warm and bright and perfectly nostalgic.