Chapter 2
Tyler
Why can’t I get this girl out of my head? We had spoken for ten minutes, tops. Even her name was catchy, Serena, like one of those trendy songs that’s stuck on repeat in my head. I hear a honk from behind me and notice the light had turned green a while ago. Seriously, man ? Fleeting meeting and I can’t stop blushing like a schoolboy.
I physically slap myself. “Snap out of it, dude. You’re on a dating hiatus.”
And I have a legit reason for it. Dating is like navigating a maze blindfolded in this generation. It’s fucking confusing with no insight or map on how to have a serious relationship. Most people my age are into hooking up, no strings attached. They’re not looking for anything serious with college around the corner.
Me? I’m in it for the right reasons. I can’t stand hook up culture.
The last girl I was seriously into… I thought we were on the same page, in a serious relationship , but turns out, we weren’t even in the same book. It was a real dumpster fire, burned my hopes, wasted my time, and even had me changing my Netflix passwords.
And so, all my efforts during last year went down the drain, just like that.
I stroll through the front door, not in any rush, until I hit the brakes at my dad’s office. The heart of our home–Dad’s territory. The man’s a senior accountant, and that room is his safe haven after work hours. He’s dedicated to his job, which I admire and gather that’s where I get my drive from.
I knock on the door, drawing his attention from his paperwork to me. “Hey, son. Home early from the gym?”
“Yeah, I figured I’d grab dinner at home tonight,” I nod and lean against the doorframe.
“Dinner?” Dad’s brows knit together. “What time is it?”
“Almost 8 p.m.”
“Damn.” His hand finds his forehead, lines etching deeper.
“I’ll heat up the pasta for you.”
“Thanks, Tyler. Got carried away with work.” His tone carries a tinge of regret.
I shake my head. “No worries, you do a lot for Harper and I. ”
“Here,” he begins putting folders away, “I’ll finish up work real quick and I’ll come out.”
“Sure.”
“Oh, and let’s have dinner at the table for once.”
I smile and nod at him, earning a thumbs up. I finish warming up the leftover pasta I made yesterday and toasted garlic bread for the both of us. My little sister, Harper, is at her other grandparents’ house for the weekend. I make a mental note to bake her some cookies before I pick her up tomorrow morning.
Just as I finish setting everything on the table, I hear his footsteps slightly dragging into the room. I pull both chairs out and make a last run to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
“Perfect timing, dad.”
We sink into a peaceful silence, the only sound our utensils gently clinking against the plates. It’s not often, but it isn’t awkward that we don’t know what to talk about sometimes. When Harper is away at her grandparents’, we don’t usually have a lot to talk about. Weird to think that my three year old sister is our conversational buffer.
“Any plans this summer?” Dad asks, twirling noodles around on his plate. Did he hear my thoughts ?
“Not much planned this summer.” We stopped going on family vacations years ago to save money now that Mom is gone .
“You’re not going to hang out with Cassandra?”
I quietly sigh. He could never get her name right despite Cassie and I having been friends since middle school. “I told you, we broke up.”
Broke up. More like never on the same page and got played like the fucking violin at a sold out symphony.
“Oh, right. Sorry, work is just… crazy. The other day, Simon,” he pauses to take a bite and I can tell he sees confusion on my face, “Simon, my assistant, asked if I needed a calculator.”
I actually laugh at the joke. My dad has always been good with numbers. Unfortunately, I definitely didn’t get that gene from him. Math was never my strongest subject growing up. I scraped by with Cs, and was usually fine with it, but since starting high school, I’ve been trying to get my grades up for college applications.
“Oh, did you put Harper’s car seat in my car?” he asks, taking a sip of his water. “I can handle drop offs and pickups this week.”
I nod, “I did, dad. I can still take her if things change.”
“No, no, no,” he shakes his head, “you only have a few weeks left of your summer. Enjoy it without worrying about us.”
“You sure?” I feel a small pang of guilt that he’s even giving me a break .
“Of course, it’s your last summer before your senior year. I can take care of Harper. Work should be easy this week.”
“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it.”
We finish dinner in comfortable silence, and I clean up the table before we separate ways into our caves in the house. The gentle hum of my laptop calls, and I settle in, surrounded by the quiet comforts of home. I sink into my bed, getting a movie ready for the night, but of course it couldn’t run all so smoothly. Serena.
There was this magnetic pull that made our short conversation stand out from the black and white exchanges of my day. Her laughter is infectious, her smile so genuine. And those damn coffee-brown eyes. This might be an exaggeration, but in that moment, it hit me: I’m completely awestruck by her, like, I can’t stop thinking about her.
With a sigh, I set the laptop aside, and run my hands through my face as though it would take her image away. As I lay back, the room dimmed from my bedside lamp, I’m left wondering if we’ll cross paths again.
I grab my phone and start browsing through Instagram. The thought of Serena creeps into my mind every few minutes, prompting me to unconsciously search for her profile. Despite only knowing her first name, I hope to the lacrosse Gods that I’ll find girls named Serena nearby. Unfortunately, they weren’t on my side .
Frustrated but determined for some reason, I redirect my focus to the Boba Republic’s page, hoping for any sign of her there. After some scrolling, I finally find her account as someone they follow. My heart skips a beat at the sight of her name, and I quickly pull up her profile.
Serena’s feed offers glimpses into her life, with group photos, snapshots of food and boba, and a handful of selfies. It doesn’t look like she’s been posting lately since there’s nothing from this year. My mind races with thoughts of messaging her or even following her. Should I? Would it be too forward, too creepy?
As I debate my next move, my thumb has a mind of its own and accidentally double-taps one of her old selfies.
Cue the internal panic.
I’m scrambling to unlike the selfie, but it’s too late. I’m sure Serena will get a notification that I’ve been snooping.
Shit shit shit .
“Way to go, Tyler,” I mutter to myself, mentally kicking myself.
Note to self: you’re on a dating hiatus. That means no girls. It’s the summer before your senior year. It’s time to lock in. School. Lacrosse. Family .
That’s all I have time for.