Chapter 8
Tilly
New York is breathtaking.
I knew it would be, but there is a difference between thinking and experiencing something.
I can’t describe the feeling covering my body when I look out the window and see New York, at sunset, from above.
It’s orange and pink, and sprinkled with fairy dust.
There’s something about the view that brings tears to my eyes.
I’m sitting by the window because Yana gets sick and has to have easy access to the bathroom, and Zara likes the middle seat, which I still don’t understand.
Who am I to complain?
When we get off the plane, I feel my heart in my throat.
This is a mom I made it moment .
I can feel the excitement thrumming through my veins. It has been my dream since I was a kid to see NYC.
Everything about it is so… powerful.
New York is the place where dreams come true. It’s a big city filled with big possibilities, and I am currently standing on its ground.
What are the chances ?
When we get out of the taxi that took us to the central city, I feel my heart beating faster and faster.
I love traveling with my whole heart, and dreams really do come true.
I jump in place and spin in circles around until I feel dizzy.
“Oh my God, I’m actually in New York!” I let out a happy squeal and stop spinning.
We look like a Pinterest board with the help of Yana.
Each of us is wearing a matching set in our assigned colors. Yana made up when we met.
It’s a quirk of her’s, and while we never agreed on these colors, she is the one buying us all these cute clothes that I can’t resist wearing.
Zara is green for nature, and the whimsicality (not sure that’s a word) of it all, Yana is red, but make sure it’s the expensive wine shade, and I’m pink, the romantic soft girl of the group.
I don’t really care about all of that, but she made sure we are ALWAYS matching.
Our suitcases are silver and perfect for the vibe of it all, which makes me regret not having a secret photographer because this is genuinely a spontaneous photo moment.
The streets are overwhelming, better than anything I could ever imagine.
It feels weirdly perfect, the fact that we got out in the middle of Times Square, with all the billboards around us.
I wasn’t expecting them to be so big.
All I see are big, beautiful faces all around me, and I feel like I’m floating.
Yana takes my hand and jumps with me.
“Tilly,” she takes a breath in, looking at me. “We are actually in New York City. Like right now, we are standing in N.Y.C.”
“I know, right?” I smile at her.
Our hearts sync u,p and I can’t stop smiling.
Everything feels so right right now. Like everything will be ok as long as I just freeze this moment in time and stand in the city of dreams for the rest of my life.
I look at Zara and shake my head when all she does is stand and look around.
“Zara, are you good? We are in New York right now, and you’re… standing?”
“I’m sure the thrill will hit me after the jet lag wears off.” She stops and closes her eyes. “God, I need coffee. I sat next to a snorer all night,” she side eyes Yana and sits down on the nearest bench.
“Ok, I’m not the one who booked the seats, and I can’t control what I do when I’m sleeping!”
I laugh and take Zara’s hand to help her up.
“Here’s the plan,” Yana takes out her phone and looking for something on it.
Probably the schedule that she thankfully took care of. “Check into our hotel, unpack, have our stuff ready for tomorrow, and sleep.” She winks at Zara. “Rested Zara is happy Zara.”
“Sounds like a plan, but what about coffee?” Zara nods, but still looks demolished.
“Would you rather sleep or drink coffee?” I tell her as I wrap my hand over her shoulder.
“ Whatever .” She rolls her eyes, and I laugh internally, because unrested Zara is grumpy Zara.
“Tills?” Yana turns to me expectantly.
“Yep, I’m fine with the plan, as long as we don’t waste too much time tomorrow,” I tell Yana, smiling at the simplicity of it all.
Except, nothing about this is simple.
I am in my dream destination with my favorite people, and I’m technically getting paid for this.
We weren’t supposed to fly out until next week, but when Yana asked the rainers if they could book the flight earlier and to New York, they were surprisingly kind about it, so here I am, standing on America’s ground, without having to pay anything.
We lug our five suitcases and three massive bags into the hotel, navigating the revolving doors like seasoned travelers, even though my arms are threatening mutiny under the weight of my carry-ons.
The lobby smells like polished wood and some kind of sweet vanilla. Once we arrive at our apartment-style suite, I nearly faint.
It’s massive.
That’s an understatement, because I’m convinced this hotel room is bigger than our apartment.
Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen that can fit a volleyball team comfortably, and a living room that makes me question whether I’ll ever look at normal hotels again.
Everything is so pretty, and suddenly I understand Yana’s urge to take videos everywhere.
This makes no sense, but I am not here to complain.
“Yana! Who the hell do you have contacts with?” I throw my bag off my shoulder and spin like a child again.
“If only you knew,” she smiles. “I dibs the master bedroom!”
“No offense, but I think every room here is technically a master bedroom,” Zara says, eyeing her.
I can’t even speak; my jaw’s literally dropped in awe.
“Ok, the faster we unpack, the faster we get to sleep.” She steps through one of the massive doors, and I sit down on the couch.
When she comes out again, she looks at me sternly. “Make sure to take the dresses for tomorrow out so they can de-wrinkle.”
Then she turns to Zara. “I’ll wake you guys up at seven a.m., so keep that in mind when you decide what time you’ll go to sleep.”
When she disappears through her door again, I smile and rest my head on the pillow.
I feel so overwhelmingly grateful. I can’t imagine my life without everything I have today.
And I’m not just saying this because of the situation.
I love Yana and Zara so much. Not to mention Matt and Luca.
Each of us has our quirks and faults, but it makes us so special.
Moments like this, where we laugh until our stomachs hurt or cry until our eyes are red, are the glue that holds us together.
These girls are my sisters by choice, and I cherish them more than I can ever put into words.
This is a life I could have never dreamed of as a kid, and I am constantly hit with a tsunami of gratitude, because who am I to deserve this?
One day I was fourteen, stressing about my life in a summer camp where I got to learn about volleyball, and the next I’m nineteen, living with the best group of people and getting to call my passion a career.
What did I do to deserve this?
“What are you thinking about?” Zara asks, brushing a braid of hair behind her ear while glancing at me with a curious smile.
She is stunning.
I don’t really spend much time with Zara; she’s always in her own bubble, but it’s undeniable: her beauty.
She’s from Nigeria, and I had no idea Africa had such beautiful people.
Her face is so unique, and I constantly feel the need to compliment her when she’s around.
One thing about her is that her braids are always done, and whoever does them deserves all the respect, because she disappears in the morning and comes back late evening, and the braids never disappoint.
“Us,” I answer simply, because sometimes simplicity speaks louder than a thousand words.
“I really love you guys. I feel like the luckiest girl alive knowing you.”
Zara smiles, her eyes softening. “I love you too, Tills. You’re genuinely the sweetest girl I know.”
She has no idea what those words mean to me.
She sits down next to me on the couch and gets under the blanket. “You genuinely can’t feel happy unless everyone around you is happy as well. Your heart is fragile, and I don’t think you embrace that enough.”
“Aw, wait, that’s so sweet.” I look at her, teary-eyed.
“Sometimes I feel like you hide yourself behind a wall, and it’s unfair.
Your soul is the prettiest when it’s exposed, gentle, and vulnerable for the world to see.
Fragility doesn’t mean you’re weak,” she squeezes my hand and looks at me seriously.
“Showing yourself vulnerable just means you are strong enough to embrace emotions as they are. It’s literally proof you’re stronger than most people. ”
She’s right, but sometimes I feel like showing myself is just pushing myself away from people.
My brain can’t grasp the concept of actually being completely open with someone and keeping them around.
It’s like I’m a magnet. The bad side will push people away, the nicely planned out side brings people closer.
The constant need to be perfect is like a drug so addictive that it’s impossible to get rid of.
It’s almost like I’m afraid of being hurt.
“I love you, Zara,” I whisper again, my voice slightly cracking.
“Love you too, Tilly,” Zara says, hugging me tightly.
I get up and walk to my room to unpack.
***
Later that evening, while applying moisturizer in the hotel bathroom, I glance at Yana brushing her hair in the mirror.
We decided to share a bathroom instead of Yana having her own because she can help with makeup, and it’s more fun together.
We’d walk back and forth anyway, so this setup is just easier.
“Yana, can we talk?” My voice comes out shakier than I wanted it.
Crap.
I can feel my stomach twisting in knots like a rollercoaster I don’t want to ride.
She looks up and nods. “Sure, what’s up?”
I swallow, twisting my hands together. “There might be, um, something I haven’t told you yet. And you have to promise,” I take a breath, “you have to promise you won’t get mad.”
My heart hammers like a drum in my chest.
Bam, bam, bam.
“I promise I’ll try?” she tells me warily.
I exhale shakily and press my lips together. “Oh, Lord… I don’t even know how to say this. Basically, something happened that day you were telling me Luca didn’t hate me.” My throat tightens, and I have to stop for a second to swallow. “He might have accidentally sent me a… love paragraph?”
Her eyebrows shoot up, and I quickly explain.
“Not meant for me.” I cringe.
Great word play,y Tilly.
“I mean, it was about me, just not supposed to be sent to me.” I breathe out. “He sent it to me accidentally.”
“Accidentally? What do you mean?”
“Like, he was asking Matt for help with something, and he sent it to me instead.” I cringe, feeling my cheeks heat up. “I, um, I have it on my phone if you want to see?”
She nods slowly, and I hand it over. The silence as she reads feels heavy.
One side of me feels like I’m doing the right thing.
The other, bigger, side is screaming what the hell are you doing?
Her expression doesn’t change, which makes me nervous enough to fidget. My fingers twist in the towel on my lap.
“So?” I break the unbearable silence.
She sets my phone down on the counter and looks me in the eye, her tone suddenly low and dangerous. “I swear I’m going to kill that guy.”
I jump, slightly panicked. “No! Please don’t be mad. He tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help it. I told him I don’t feel the same, and he took it surprisingly well. He’s acting normal again. Everything’s fine. Promise me you won’t kill him.”
Yana’s eyes soften a fraction, but she stays serious. “But do you?”
“What?” My chest hitches.
“Do you feel the same?” she asks. “Truthfully,” she adds.
“What?!” I snap a little too loudly, and immediately curse myself for sounding panicky.
“No! Absolutely not! I look at him like a best friend! I can’t see him as more than that. It would ruin everything.”
I imagine what would happen and internally, and probably externally, shake. “Absolutely not!”
Yana’s brow furrows, suspicion creeping into her tone. “To me, it sounds like you’re listing reasons why you shouldn’t like him… not whether you actually do or don’t.”
I blink at her, feeling a mix of frustration and disbelief. “Yana, be serious. You know me better than anyone. Don’t twist my words or make me feel confused.”
Her shoulders relax slightly, and she sets her brush down completely, leaning forward on the counter. “Tills, I just need you to know how you really feel. You’re sure you don’t like him?”
“Not like that,” I tell her solemnly.
She hesitates, her voice softening, almost cracking with worry. “This could potentially mess up our friendship if—”
“I know!” I blurt, my own voice trembling with nerves and frustration.
If you like him in a way that makes you want to kiss him until you are out of breath.
As if I haven’t thought of that every single day.
“Let me finish, please.” She gives me a look that convinces me to shut up.
“I didn’t mean that if you hypothetically liked him, it could ruin things.
I mean… if you’re lying to yourself, it could.
I don’t want a scenario where you suddenly realize you love him when he’s already moved on…
or thinks you don’t. So, I need you to really think.
Only then can you tell me how you actually feel. ”
I sink back a little, letting the weight of her words hit me.
I love Luca… as a friend.
He’s been in my life for so long, and the thought of losing him is unbearable.
The thought of waking up without an annoying voice every morning telling me the pancake is slightly burned makes me sick.
The thought of going to training and not having an Italian, brunette boy slightly bumping into me every time he’s close enough makes me even more sick.
The thought of not having a guy I can tell anything to, except the very bad things I tell no one, and he won’t call the police, makes me want to throw up.
My head starts to throb from the swirl of emotion, guilt, fear, and relief all jumbled together.
“So, tell me, Tills,” Yana says, her voice low but firm. “Do you like him… or not?”
I take a shaky breath, feeling the tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I trust her with everything. I let my head speak, as always.
“Nope. Still platonic. Nothing more. I like him as a friend. That’s it.”
Yana’s lips twitch in a relieved way. “Ok, good.” She smiles. “That’s good.”
I exhale, my chest loosening slightly.
The tension in my shoulders eased, though a few tears still burn behind my eyes.
I realize Yana would never judge me for anything.
“I’m glad I told you,” I whisper, my voice shaking a little. “I was scared. That’s the only reason I didn’t before.”
She reaches over, grabs my hand, and squeezes it. “Tilly, I’m not mad. You don’t have to protect your heart from me. You don’t have to hide anything. Ever. And you know what? I’m proud of you for trusting me enough to tell me.”
I let out a shaky laugh, relief mixing with the lingering anxiety. “You’re the best. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“You’ll never have to find out,” she says, smirking a little. “I’ve got your back.”
I smile. “Same here.”