Chapter 19 Tyler
When she steps over the threshold of the Thompsons’ house, though, I wonder if I should have reeled in my excitement and found the time for second thoughts.
When I invited Sabrina to the after-party, I didn’t think about Ryan.
The moment Sabrina steps through the door, he’s there offering her a drink. “The queen of the Spirit Committee!” he cries, throwing his arms wide in celebration. “Haven’t seen you since the car wash! You avoiding me or something?”
Her eyes flicker to where I’m relaxing on the couch—then flash back to Ryan. “Of course not,” she says. “Just busy with homecoming prep. Lots of fundraising to do…” She trails off, edging away.
“Well, shit, you should’ve said. Can the hockey team help? Do a bake sale or something? I bake a mean slutty brownie.” Ryan waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
Sabrina ignores the innuendo—which is good, because I definitely do not have the moral high ground to absolve me if I tackle my cousin tonight—and she visibly softens. “That would actually be really nice. We could use whatever help we can get this year.”
“Done.” He hoists his own cup in salute. “And maybe we can catch up soon?”
“Definitely. Once things clear up a little.” She smiles, and I doubt anyone sees the shadow underneath.
I catch her eye, mentally inviting her to join us—I’m sitting with Will and Kara and Marissa, it’s casual, they’re all part of her crew—but Ryan is the one who plops down in the empty spot beside me, draping an arm around Marissa’s shoulder before she shrugs him off.
He widens his eyes in exaggerated hurt. “You’re tough on a man’s ego,” he says mournfully.
She only rolls her eyes. “Oh, I think your ego is just fine.”
He pouts, then turns back to me. “Okay, Tyler! Talk me through how y’all scored that final touchdown again? That was epic!”
Marissa raises an eyebrow—as if to say, Point proven, ego intact—and I do my best to retell the details of our last play.
But I’m thinking about Ryan’s flirtations, and how hard Sabrina and I have been working to protect him from whatever is building between us, and it fills me with mingled frustration and guilt.
It feels pretty shitty to be keeping this secret when he’s hyping me up after the game, making me the star of his party.
“Man of the hour!” he cries. “I bet you’re on a dozen scouts’ radars after that game! ”
I work hard to keep the easy smile on my face, but my stomach’s churning with shame.
Ryan’s done everything to help me integrate into his life and the social scene here, and I’m sneaking around behind his back?
But it’s not like there’s anything much to tell—nothing more than a few kisses—a few really good kisses—and drives I wish would last three times as long…
It all leaves me searching for Sabrina again, the only person this year who can magically make me feel settled. I spot her immediately, as if she’s magnetized specifically for me—in a quiet corner, nursing her drink. Watching our conversation. Somehow, for once, alone.
As soon as the attention shifts off me, I excuse myself and weave through the room to her side. Try and fail to calm my thudding heartbeat as her eyes track my approach, as her head tilts up toward me the closer I get, as her lips part ever so slightly.
As Gabe crashes in from the other direction, eyes flicking between the two of us, and I have to swerve toward the basement instead.
But I allow myself an “accidental” hand on the soft inner skin of her arm.
As if I’m just steadying her as I pass. I have to close my eyes against the urge to hang on—to pull her closer.
When I glance over my shoulder as I walk away, Sabrina’s eyes are still on me. Burning like the center of a flame.
I do my best to focus on a game of foosball in Ryan’s basement, but I’m so distracted I lose immediately.
All I can see is Sabrina’s face in my mind’s eye, and I drift back up to the kitchen where she’s describing her vision for homecoming.
But before I can join her circle, Ryan appears to remind everyone there are plenty of couches to crash on if people aren’t safe to drive home.
I hide my disappointed sigh and pass behind her as if I was just heading to the island for a refill on chips.
But I let myself trail my hand across the small of her back—courteously, to make sure she doesn’t accidentally step backward into me—and the jolt that passes through my fingertips electrifies me for the next hour.
Gabe snags me as I pass his armchair in the corner, where the noise is a little muted. “Hey, thanks for talking me down before the game.” He shakes his head. “I was really spinning out.”
I put thoughts of Sabrina out of my mind and refocus on my teammate. “It’s nothing. You always get better when you’re in motion at practice or whatever. I knew you’d lock in.”
Gabe’s face relaxes, and he finally looks like himself again.
“Yeah. Movement really does help. It used to be the only thing that did, you know? It’s probably why I got so good at football so young.
” He smiles in a self-deprecating way. “But then I had this obsessive phase in sixth grade and my parents got me seeing a psychiatrist who prescribed some antianxiety meds, and usually the combo keeps things chill.”
He frowns, and I can’t help myself. “But this year…?”
Gabe cups his hands around his sparkling water and ducks his head.
“There’s just a lot more pressure, you know?
Dad has always wanted me to play in college, and sure, I’d love that.
But the idea that every game this year is an exhibition of my skills is really scary.
I keep thinking I’ll let everyone down, and I get lost in my own head, and sometimes it’s hard to pull myself out. ”
“Until you start playing,” I say lightly. “We’re lucky to have you, man. You couldn’t let us down if you tried.”
The way his face lights up makes me rethink my resolution to not get too enmeshed with the team here. Being useful again feels good. Helping the team be its best was always my favorite thing.
“Thanks, Tyler. You’re a good add this year.” He thumps me on the back affectionately, then leans forward and lowers his voice. “So, I owe you. Can I do anything for you tonight? Create a distraction so you can slip away with Sabrina?”
I rear upright, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bro.” Gabe levels me with a scathing look. “You’re not a very good actor. You can’t keep your eyes off each other.”
I glance around frantically. “You think Will’s noticed?”
Gabe grins. “Nah. He’s too busy giving Miles a pep talk about that botched pass.”
I follow his gaze to the corner where Will does indeed have Miles practically pinned against a wall, gesticulating wildly as if he’s drawing diagrams of plays in the air.
Kara looks on indulgently, occasionally piping up with her own notes.
I have an inkling Miles will start feeling better soon, whether it’s genuine or just from being worn down by the two of them.
“I’m just lucky he has another target for his no-drama campaign,” I say.
“Not that he has anything to worry about with you.” Gabe’s voice is easy. As if he really believes it. “You’re the chillest guy on the team. Don’t think we don’t notice how you’re always running extra drills and volunteering to throw passes. You were a damn good recruit.”
I can’t help smiling back. “Thanks, man. That means a lot.”
Means the world.
“So, Sabrina…?” He raises an eyebrow, and I fight my urge to blush.
“I got it under control.”
“I bet you do.” He claps me on the shoulder once more, then shoos me away. “All right, go get your girl. Or stare at her longingly from across the room, or whatever it is you’re doing tonight. I won’t tell.”
I roll my eyes, but he’s not wrong. I can’t take my eyes off her.
Her hair is half up, half down tonight, a blue ribbon holding the updo part in place.
She’s sparkling in every way—laughing and entertaining a circle of people with a story about trying to save a stranded bird in South Carolina, glitter on her cheekbones catching the light.
Her eyes dart over to me occasionally, and every time I get caught in those dark blue pools, I entirely lose the drift of the conversation.
I don’t think I’m imagining the way her cheeks flush.
Like maybe she’s just as affected as I am.
I stand abruptly. “I’ll be right back,” I say. Gabe whoops quietly, but I don’t even care. I need a break. It’s more torturous than I bargained for, having Sabrina right in front of me but barely being able to talk to her, let alone touch her.
I weave through the crowd, dodging offers of more drinks and all the people reaching out to thump my shoulders in congratulations. Eventually, I make it to the downstairs bathroom, which is mercifully empty.
As soon as I shut the door behind myself, I lean against it and let out a long, slow exhale.
Peace. Quiet. A chance to figure out how I’m going to survive the next however many hours with Sabrina in my house while Ryan plays the invisible third wheel in every interaction.
Guilt and desire tango in a dizzying, confusing dance.
I splash water from the sink on my face in a desperate attempt to emotionally sober up. When I bury my face in a hand towel to dry it off, I hear the soft click of the bathroom door opening behind me. Shit. I didn’t lock it?
“Occupied—” I start to say, lowering the towel and turning toward the door.
But there’s a slender blonde standing there, baby-blue sweater making her eyes seem even more navy than usual. They’re very big right now. And very focused on me.
“Hi.” Her voice is soft.
I lean back against the sink, unable to take my eyes off the way her lips are slightly parted. Off their glossy, pink pout. “Were you… looking for the bathroom?”
Those lips curl in a smile. “Yes.”
“Oh.” I run a hand over my hair, fingers twitching with the desire to be lots of other places right now. “Well… you found it.”
She takes a small, deliberate step forward. “I did.”
My breathing is shallow. I want this to mean something—but I don’t want to assume— “Do you… want me to go? I can—”
“No.” Her answer is short, determined, definitive.
Instead of leaving, she closes the door.
I don’t know which one of us reaches for the other first. Sabrina’s arms twine around my neck and my hands go to her waist while our mouths clash.
This kiss is nothing like the last few—it’s desperate, urgent.
Full of the ghost of a quiet kiss outside another loud party, of the memory of her in a soaking wet T-shirt, of a week of torturous proximity in a car threatening to break down at any moment, of heated eye contact across a crowded room.
Of wanting to be close to her and having to keep my distance. Of wondering if she wants the same.
One of her legs slots between mine, the friction between us building, and I let out a muffled groan into her mouth. In response, she drags her nails through the hair at the nape of my neck, and God, this girl. I get the sense she has very much been wanting the same.
My hands bracket her waist, and I hoist her onto the sink in one smooth lift. She pulls back for a moment, eyeing me appreciatively. “Now, that should have been your talent on display. You practice that move much…?”
I press kisses to her mouth, to her chin, to her neck, and her questions are drowned out by her soft, appreciative noises. “No,” I murmur in between kisses. The scent of her is so strong here, all vanilla and rose. “Nope, that’s all natural talent.”
She grips my chin and drags my face back to hers, and I don’t need to be told twice.
As I gorge myself on the kisses I’ve been denying myself for weeks, Sabrina wraps her legs around my waist, and I completely forget that there’s a whole party full of people on the other side of that door.
All I can think about is Sabrina—her warmth against me, the sweet taste of her lips, the way I’ll never be able to enter a bakery again without smelling her in the vanilla hanging in the air.
One hand drifts under the hem of her sweater, tracing the soft skin at her waist and cataloging every shiver it draws from Sabrina.
The other tugs loose the ribbon in her hair so all that blond satin falls in curtains around our faces. I pull back just long enough to say, “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”
“Oh yeah?” Sabrina’s lips are swollen from kissing, her pupils blown wide.
“Mm-hmm. Every time you wear one.”
She plucks the ribbon from my fingers and winds it around my wrist. “Now I’ll be thinking about this every time I do.”
A guttural sound escapes from the back of my throat, and I bend to kiss her again. Kiss her until I’m drunk on it, until the whole world is Sabrina wrapped around me as tightly as her ribbon on my wrist.
Until someone knocks outside, and we jolt apart. Heart pounding, I fly to the door to make sure it’s locked, thank God. “One second! It’s… kinda gross in here, though! You might want to go upstairs!”
“Ew!” a disgusted voice says from the other side. I can hear the lip curl. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
When I turn back to Sabrina, she’s smiling.
My own grin is so wide, it hurts my cheeks, and there’s no way I can leave this bathroom without the euphoria of this kiss written all over my face.
But Sabrina’s sliding off the sink, pulling her sweater down and running her fingers through her hair to tame it.
We both know we’ve pushed this moment further than it can safely go.
I’m already looking forward to the next.
“We should probably…” Sabrina tilts her head toward the party.
I nod. “You go first, and I’ll follow in a minute?”
She opens the door a crack to peek out, then shuts it and looks back up at me. “Coast is clear,” she says with a tiny smirk. Before she slips outside, she looks down and tugs the ribbon around my wrist. Her smile widens. “See you soon, Tyler.”