Chapter 22 Sabrina
I feel light enough to float off the ground as Tyler and I climb into my car to head back to the Thompsons’.
Did I just agree to be his official girlfriend? Public, in front of everyone—even Ryan?
That unconscious smile spreads across my face again. I did. And I don’t regret it one bit. No vulnerability hangover, no overthinking, no second-guessing myself.
That’s new. But it feels inevitable. The way he remembered my favorite milkshake. The way he tackled my to-do list right alongside me.
The way he listened while I spilled all my messy feelings about my parents, my hang-ups about seriously dating before… He accepted it all, nodding easily. Just like he did on that first ride home. That all makes sense.
The phrase he offers me every time I feel unmoored. The one that comforts me more than I’d expect. The one that is the opposite of how my dad reacted when Mom and I found out: It’s not a big deal. I don’t know why you’re getting so upset. If you look at it from my perspective…
He couldn’t ruin tonight if he tried, Tyler said. And he’s right. Even a call from my current least favorite person only reminds me how much better than him Tyler is.
No wonder I feel lighter. It’s like he absorbed everything messy and sad and tangled inside me and blew it to the wind.
I’m finally feeling brave enough. Confident we have something that’s worth the risk.
Tyler’s hand sneaks onto my thigh as I pull out onto Main Street, and I cast him a sidelong smile. Me driving him home is our thing—but this time we’re driving to something, and it hits different.
He steals a kiss at every red light. His fingers toy with the loose tendrils of my hair falling around my face, and I can tell he’s dying to unravel the black velvet ribbon holding it up.
He’s never looked so much like a golden retriever patiently sitting and waiting for a treat, wagging his tail, tongue dangling from his mouth.
We don’t talk for the rest of the drive.
We did enough of that at the diner, and right now, neither of us has any thoughts in our head other than getting somewhere we can be alone.
The streets are quiet, just a few people out walking or running evening errands.
People are starting to put out their pumpkins, and when I pull up to the Thompsons’, their elaborate Halloween decorating is in full swing: fake cobwebs, colored lights shining onto the front of the house, fake gravestones in the yard.
“Spooky,” I say, turning to Tyler.
But he’s leaning toward me for another kiss, and the word gets swallowed by his mouth.
His lips press urgently against mine, and now that my hands are free, I can rake my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck like he loves.
He presses closer at first, making a strangled little sound in the back of his throat, and then draws back.
“Inside,” he says, voice hoarse. He doesn’t take his eyes off me while he unbuckles his seat belt.
I scramble to do the same, and then we’re stumbling out of the car and up the walk. I’m full of strawberry sugar and so light without my burdens that I feel like I need a hand on Tyler to keep myself tethered to the Earth.
Tyler fumbles with the keys to the front door while I trail my fingers along his neck, his arm. “Shit,” he mutters when he drops them and has to bend down to scoop them up. He looks up at me with a sheepish smile.
“You nervous?” I tease.
His eyes trace up my legs and across my face. “You always make me nervous,” he says in a low voice.
And then I grab his hand to tug him back up, because my pulse is racing, and, dear lord, I need to kiss this boy somewhere that doesn’t smell like the football field’s cut grass or the musty books everyone has forgotten about in the back of the library. Somewhere soft, and quiet, and private.
When he finally manages to get the right key in the lock, he shakes his head and lets out a slight chuckle.
“What?” I ask.
He turns to grin at me. “It was already open.”
I throw my head back in dismay. “Less talk.”
We fall through the door. The instant it shuts behind me, Tyler presses me against it as if he can’t wait a second longer.
His hips are sharp against mine, his hands in my hair, those clever fingers already working at the ribbon that holds it up.
I just tilt my head to meet his mouth, hands by my sides, ready for him to undo anything he wants.
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so safe with someone.
As soon as his work is done, his hands go to my waist, pulling me flush against him.
I hum my appreciation, lost in this moment.
His shoulders are broad and muscled under my palms, and I use them to pull him even closer.
He rumbles something I can’t quite understand into my mouth, but I don’t care.
We talked plenty tonight, and there will be time for more talking later.
I’ve never felt this kind of urgent need before, liquefying my muscles and electrifying my veins.
The house is quiet—no football players shouting on the other side of the bleachers, no bells ringing in the hallway outside, only the gentle creaking of floorboards as the place settles.
The loudest thing is our own breathing, the little gasps Tyler’s drawing from me as his hands skim over my waist, as his fingers trace along the edge of my top.
I’ll never be able to smell eucalyptus again without thinking of him.
His tongue slips inside my mouth, and I might need to rethink my opinion on vanilla, because I’m not sure I’ve ever tasted anything more delicious.
Tyler stoops so he’s totally enveloping my frame, one hand tracing up my stocking-covered legs to the hem of my skirt, and I don’t want him to stop—
And then a light is suddenly shining behind my closed eyelids, and Tyler’s not touching me anymore, not kissing me, has pulled back from me—
When I open my eyes, he’s turned around to look up the stairs leading from the entryway.
And when I follow his gaze, Ryan’s standing on the stairwell, mouth hanging open. As anyone would, having heard strange noises—I flush—and turning the light on to see your cousin and ex-whatever making out in your hallway.
I guess we know why the door was unlocked.