7. Tyler
Tyler
After coffee, I walk Cassie back to her dorm.
But the only thing I can think about is what she wrote in her journal, because of what we did she thought her life wasn’t worth living. And I had a part in that.
I always felt like shit about what we did, but now I hate myself more than she ever could.
It’s late afternoon, that golden hour where the campus looks almost magical. She’s quiet beside me, occasionally glancing over like she’s trying to figure something out.
“Can I ask you something?” she says when we reach her building.
“Anything.” Right now I would be happy to buy the fucking world if she would forgive me.
“Why are you doing this? Really? Because it can’t just be about redemption. That would be too simple.”
“It’s not simple at all.” I lean against the wall of her building.
“Honestly? At first it was about redemption. About becoming someone I could respect. But now… now it’s because I actually care about you.
I want to know you. I want to be someone you can trust.” I’ve always liked Cassie, and thought maybe one day she would forgive me, and she would give me a chance, but now I’m not so sure.
“After what you’ve told me, I’m not so sure you’ll ever forgive me. But I’m willing to carry on trying.”
She steps closer, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her brown eyes, close enough that my heart rate picks up.
“If I believe you,” she says slowly, “if I actually let myself trust you… you can’t hurt me again. You can’t be complicit in something toxic. You can’t stand by and do nothing when people are being hurt.”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“No. But I know I’d rather die than be that person again. I know that sophomore year made me realize that silence is a choice with consequences. I know that you—” I pause, not wanting to say too much, “—that people like you matter too much to let hurt happen without fighting back.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then she reaches out and takes my hand.
I look down. Her fingers are warm against mine, smaller, softer, yet holding on like she’s testing the weight of us.
The golden light catches the faint freckles across her knuckles, the way her thumb brushes once, tentatively, over the back of my hand.
Something cracks open inside my chest. Not the guilt.
Not the shame. Something fiercer. Hungrier.
Like every careful word I’ve spoken, every apology I’ve rehearsed, suddenly isn’t enough.
Like the only language left that might reach her is this.
I don’t think, whats happening, I just move.
My free hand slides up to the side of her neck, thumb grazing the soft skin just below her jaw as I lean in and claim her mouth.
The kiss is immediate, deep, no hesitation left in it.
Her lips part on a soft sound of surprise that turns into something lower, hungrier, and I taste the faint sweetness of the coffee still lingering there.
My tongue slides against hers, slow at first, then bolder when she answers with equal heat, her free hand fisting in the front of my shirt to pull me closer.
The wall of the building is at my back, but I barely feel it.
All I feel is the press of her body as she steps into me, the way her breasts brush my chest, the heat of her through the thin fabric of her top.
I release her hand only so I can settle both of mine at her waist, then lower, palms sliding over the curve of her hips, gripping just tight enough to keep her flush against me.
A low sound rumbles in my throat when she arches into the contact, and I deepen the kiss further, tilting her head, claiming more of her mouth, letting her feel exactly how hard this is making me.
She kisses like she’s been starving for it.
Like the careful distance we’ve kept is finally burning away.
Her fingers thread into my hair, nails lightly scraping my scalp, and I can’t stop the way my hips press forward, seeking more of that sweet friction.
The golden light paints the edges of her face as I break the kiss just long enough to drag my mouth along her jaw, down to the sensitive spot beneath her ear, tasting the salt-sweet skin there before returning to her lips like I can’t stay away.
When I finally ease back, we’re both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen, parted, eyes dark with the same heat that’s burning through me. My forehead rests against hers for a second, still holding her close, still feeling the rapid beat of her heart against my chest.
“Cassie…” My voice is rough. “Tell me to stop and I will. But if you don’t—”
She answers by kissing me again, slower this time, deeper, like she’s sealing something between us. And I know, right then, that whatever happens next, neither of us is walking away unchanged.