Chapter 14 Tyler #2
“Well?” she asks, breathless, as she approaches. “How was it? Did we do okay? That music cue at the end was off, it—”
I just sweep her into a hug, squeezing tight and fast. The adrenaline is for sure to blame, but I let it carry me away. Sabrina’s feet kick up as my hands go to her waist. Her hair brushes my neck as she squeezes me back, her scent all around me. I can feel her smile against my ear.
“It was great,” I say, forcing myself to put her down so I can look into her eyes while I compliment her. “The best pep rally I’ve ever been to.”
Her cheeks are bright with color, but she still manages to prop her hands on her hips and cock her head at me. “Well, that’s because it’s your first Hamilton Lakes pep rally, silly.”
I do my best to smile, though my heart is hammering against my chest with the force of a battering ram. “Maybe so.”
But all I can think about is how hugging her was a huge mistake. Because as unforgettable as my first Hamilton Lakes pep rally was, my first hug from Sabrina is even more indelibly etched into my memory. And now all I want to do is get my arms around her again.
The season kickoff party is at Gabe’s house. It’s a smallish split-level, but since it sits on the outskirts of town, it has a big yard and a hill behind it that slopes into an empty field.
The perfect setting for tonight. It’s warm enough that we can be outside, and there’s a bonfire roaring like it’s still summer.
We’re taking advantage of the lack of close neighbors to blast music as loud as possible, and coolers are full of every beverage imaginable.
Gabe’s only rules are that football players need to be ready for practice tomorrow, and no one drives themselves home unless they’ve only been drinking Sprite.
I don’t get a moment alone. Everyone wants to wish me good luck at the upcoming game (gratefully accepted), or ask me where I learned ventriloquy (Savannah will be thrilled to hear how much of a role she’s playing in my new school’s lore), or ask how I like Hamilton Lakes (surprisingly, even more than I thought I would).
For once, I don’t feel like fading away into the background—I let myself get swept into conversation after conversation, accept a second drink when I finish my first. Today, I just want to enjoy this town the way everyone else does.
The bass thumps so loudly, it makes my chest vibrate, and everyone keeps patting me on the back, telling us we’re going to be amazing. I can’t stop smiling.
But then I catch sight of Sabrina, and the smile drops off my face. Not because I’m not happy to see her—because happy doesn’t quite cover it.
She’s dancing with her friends Kara and Naomi and Priya and Harper, hands over her head.
She’s changed out of her football team T-shirt into a simple, soft-looking white tee that exposes the stretch of her collarbone.
The light of the bonfire glints off her hair, which is loose for once.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it around her shoulders, and it shimmers and glints in the firelight.
My vision of her wearing her hair down for homecoming slams back into my mind.
And watching her dance now makes it impossible to repress the fantasy of wrapping my arms around her waist in front of everyone, of twirling her in a formal dress.
She seems so happy, so accomplished, so relaxed. As she should be—that pep rally was an amazing feat. I’m glad she’s letting herself celebrate it. I love how hard she works and how much she still lets herself enjoy moments like this.
She doesn’t have any idea I’m watching. Seems to be lost in the moment with her girls, swiveling her hips and waving her arms, eyes closed and grin wide.
I can’t look away. Happy doesn’t cover how I’m feeling—but reverent might come close.
I shouldn’t be getting so invested in whatever this is between us. I’m floating through, keeping my head down, keeping it cool. So there’s no chance of a repeat. So I don’t risk my last shot at a normal senior year.
And we’re just friends. She gives me rides sometimes.
I like learning about Gilmore Girls. We have a mutually beneficial agreement, protecting each other from unwanted attention.
She’s made it very clear anything else is more complicated, more drama than she wants this year.
And I told Ryan it isn’t anything to worry about.
We’re just friends. That’s all this is.
Right?
Then she looks up.
And when she meets my eyes, there’s no denying the heat there. She stops moving for a moment, as if my gaze has frozen her.
I should look away—away from the darkness of her eyes, the soft fall of hair around her face, the flush in her cheeks. Away from her slightly parted lips. I try to make myself.
But I can’t.
Then she bends toward her friends, murmurs something, and gives a little wave. Naomi pouts, Sabrina shakes her head apologetically, and I gather she’s leaving.
Sure enough, she starts weaving through the crowd, heading for the path that leads to the street. She glances back once, catching my eye again, but looks away just as quickly.
Does she want me to follow her? Or is she leaving because she feels too weird about this connection between us?
Because she has to feel it too. I know it, deep and sure in my gut. Maybe it’s liquid courage, but I can’t let her go without hearing her say it aloud.
So, I follow, waving off the guys who try to talk to me on my way. “I’ll be right back—just one minute—getting some air—”
The front yard is empty and stunningly quiet after the noise of the party. It’s dark, only the warm, dim light from the porch shining weakly on us, and for a minute I worry I miscalculated. Don’t be the creep who follows a girl into the dark, Tyler, what are you thinking?
And then Sabrina turns, and she’s smiling.
It’s a different one than usual—a little shy, complete with a hair tuck behind her ears—but it’s still pure Sabrina. “Hey. What’re you doing here?”
She looks even more beautiful than usual, every delicate line of her face illuminated by moon and shadow. I take another step forward, noting how her head tilts back as her eyes follow my face. “Had to make sure your car started okay.”
The breeze rustles through the trees lining the boulevard, still thick with greenery before the creep of autumnal colors. The air is warm enough that we don’t need sweaters—the last gasps of late summer.
The crickets chirping in the night are deafening as my excuse falls heavily between us. “My car is perfectly fine,” Sabrina finally says. But there’s more color than usual in her cheeks.
My heart thuds in my ears, my mouth going dry. I swallow hard—and fuck, her eyes dart to follow the tiny movement. Then they linger on my mouth.
I take another half step, so we’re toe to toe. So I could wrap my arms around her with no effort, if I wanted. “Well, then… maybe I just wanted to tell you good night.”
“Okay,” she breathes. “Then tell me good night.”
I raise an eyebrow. Tilt my head toward hers. Note her tiny, almost imperceptible intake of breath. The way she raises her eyes to mine in challenge.
She does feel the connection. We both do.
And if she’s not going to admit it out loud, I’m happy to make it impossible to deny.
So, I lift a hand to gently cradle her jaw, and I close the inches between my face and hers.
I’m about to vibrate right out of my skin with the restraint it takes to merely brush my lips against hers. A gentle press, though all I want to do is unleash every desire that’s been dancing through my head since I met her.
But I keep it light. So she can pull back if she wants. If I’m misreading this situation.
Her lips part immediately, and she lifts herself onto her toes, and oh, I was not misreading this situation.
I lift my other hand to the back of her neck, letting it tangle in her silky-smooth hair.
She lets out a little hum that vibrates through my entire body, and it takes all my willpower to remember there’s a party full of all our classmates just a few feet away, that this is not the place to put on a show, that I need to end this before someone catches us, that we’re just friends and neither of us wants anything complicated this year.
But with Sabrina’s lips against mine and her hair in my hands, it’s really, really hard to remember we’re just friends.
When I finally pull back and she thumps onto her heels, we’re both breathing hard. She takes a step backward, hand fluttering unconsciously to her lips, but it can’t hide the smile growing there.
I step forward to open her car door. Before she slides inside, I lean forward and tuck her hair behind her ear. Whisper, “Just this once. Our secret.”