39 | That Boy’s Heart
TESSA
I stayed.
At first, I told myself it was because I needed a minute. That I wasn’t going to chase after him like that, not in front of everyone, not after the way he’d spoken to me.
But the truth sat lower than that. Heavier.
He’d said it like it was obvious.
You don’t get to be upset.
Like I’d missed something.
Like I was the one who—
I exhaled slowly and fixed my eyes on the fire until the shapes blurred.
It wasn’t even about the kiss itself. We were young. We weren’t together. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Not exactly.
But he’d chosen her.
That was the part that I couldn’t stomach. Like the kiss with me hadn’t been enough—like he’d needed a do-over, and she was it. And then he just… disappeared. Which could only mean one thing.
I wasn’t what he’d hoped for.
“Hey,” Melissa said softly, lowering herself into the chair beside me. “Are you okay?”
I let out a breath that didn’t quite turn into a laugh. “No.”
She nodded, like that made sense. “Yeah. That was… a lot.”
I didn’t look at her. “He kissed you.”
“It was high school,” she said gently. “Tess—”
“Right after,” I cut in. “Right after he kissed me.”
The words came out sharper than I meant them to, but I didn’t pull them back.
Melissa was quiet for a beat.
“I honestly thought you knew,” she said, softer now. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I thought it would hurt you.”
That landed.
I pressed my lips together, something tight forming in my chest.
“He never told me,” I said.
Melissa’s brows pulled together slightly. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“That’s…” She hesitated. “That’s not great, Tess.”
No.
It wasn’t.
“And then the way he talked to you,” she added, just enough edge creeping in now. “You don’t get to be upset? What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know,” I said, because I didn’t.
Because it hadn’t made sense.
Because part of me had reacted before I could think.
“He could have just told you,” Melissa continued. “Instead he hides it and then flips it on you? That’s not fair.”
No.
It wasn’t.
I stared at the fire, the heat pressing against my face, my thoughts refusing to settle into anything coherent.
Behind us, Charles laughed too loudly, like nothing had happened.
“Tess,” he said after a second, stepping closer. “You good?”
I looked up.
He winced slightly when I saw his nose. “He hits hard.”
I didn’t respond.
“You want me to walk you home?” he asked. “Make sure you don’t run into any more surprises.”
The offer sat there.
Easy. Simple. Fimiliar.
I could say yes. Let someone else fill the space between here and there.
I looked at him for a second too long.
Then I shook my head.
“No. I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”
I stood up before I could change my mind.
“I’m heading out,” I said, not really to anyone.
Melissa touched my arm lightly. “Text me when you get home?”
“I will.”
----
The walk back felt longer than it should have.
The air had cooled, sharp enough to press against my skin and keep me present whether I wanted it to or not. My thoughts kept circling back, replaying the same few moments on a loop that didn’t quite line up.
You don’t get to be upset.
The way he’d said it.
Not defensive.
Not guilty.
Certain.
My chest tightened.
He kissed her.
Right after.
And then stood me up.
The two things refused to sit next to each other without something shifting.
I pushed my hands deeper into my pockets and walked faster.
----
The house was quiet when I got back.
The porch light was still on.
I stepped inside and closed the door softly behind me.
“Tessa?”
I froze.
My mom stood in the hallway, a dish towel still in her hand. One look at my face and her expression changed.
“What happened?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. It’s just—” I exhaled. “It’s Theo.”
Her brows pulled together immediately. “Is he okay?”
“Yes,” I said quickly. “I mean—nothing like that. He’s fine.”
“Then what?”
The frustration came back the second I tried to explain it.
“He kissed Melissa,” I said. “Back in high school. Right before homecoming. And tonight he just—” I shook my head. “He told me I don’t get to be upset about it.”
My mom frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly that.” My voice tightened. “He said I don’t get to be upset. Like I have no right to be angry about it. Like somehow this is on me.”
I let out a breath, sharper now, the words coming faster.
“Like I’m the one who did something wrong.”
A pause.
My mom didn’t react immediately.
She just looked at me for a long second, taking it in.
Then—
“Okay,” she said slowly. “And what else?”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“What else did he say?” she asked. “Before that. After that. People don’t usually open with something like that for no reason.”
I hesitated.
“He said…” I frowned slightly, replaying it. “He said ‘not after everything.’”
My mom’s expression shifted. Subtle, but I saw it.
“After everything,” she repeated quietly.
“Yeah.” I shook my head. “Which—what does that even mean?”
Silence stretched for a beat.
Then—
“You know I love you,” she said carefully.
My chest tightened painfully.
“But I think he might have a point.”
“What?” I stared at her. “About what?”
“About you being upset.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Tessa.” Her voice stayed calm. “You broke that boy’s heart.”
The words landed clean.
Hard.
“I didn’t—what?”
“He came here,” she said.
Everything in me stilled.
“What do you mean?”
“A few days before homecoming,” she said. “He knocked on the door, asked if we could talk. He looked… terrible.”
I didn’t breathe.
“He told me you’d changed your mind,” she went on. “That you didn’t want to go with him anymore. That you’d asked Melissa to tell him so you wouldn’t have to.”
The world tilted.
“I never said that.”
The words came out immediate. Sharp.
My mom stilled.
“He said you were embarrassed,” she added quietly. “That you didn’t want to make it a thing. That it got out of hand.”
I shook my head before she finished.
“No. No, I never—” My voice caught. “I was at home. I got ready. I was waiting for him.”
A beat.
My mom’s expression shifted.
Slowly.
“Oh.”
The word was quiet.
Realization settling in.
“He asked me what he should do,” she said after a moment. “Whether he should still go, talk to you. I told him…” She hesitated. “I told him to respect your decision.”
I stared at her.
My chest tightened, sharp.
“I never told him not to come.”
“I can see that now,” she said softly.
Silence dropped between us.
“Melissa told him that,” I said.
Not a question.
It fit too cleanly.
Too perfectly.
You don’t get to be upset.
Not after everything.
The blood drained from my face.
“He thinks I rejected him.”
My mom didn’t answer.
She didn’t need to.
"He thinks I was ashamed of him back then and still wanted to be with me now."
Everything clicked into place at once.
The anger.
The way he’d looked at me.
The disconnect that hadn’t made sense until now.
“Oh my god.” A breath. “I have to go.”
“Tessa.”
I turned.
“It’s late,” she said gently. “You’re both upset. Whatever just happened tonight—he needs a minute. And so do you.”
“I don’t need a minute.”
“Yes, you do.”
I shook my head. “He’s believed this for years.”
“I know,” she said. “But going over there right now? That’s not going to help.”
I opened my mouth.
Stopped.
Because part of me knew she wasn’t wrong.
“He’s not going anywhere,” she added. “You can talk to him tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
It felt too far.
But—
I glanced at the clock.
11:30.
I made myself breathe.
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I am.”
I nodded once and turned toward the stairs.
----
My room felt too quiet.
Too still.
I didn’t turn the light on.
I sat on the edge of the bed, then lay back, staring at the ceiling, trying to slow my thoughts down.
It didn’t work.
Every time I closed my eyes, it replayed.
Theo’s face.
The way he’d looked at me—frustrated, yes, but something else underneath it. Hurt I hadn’t understood then.
Now I did.
He’d believed it.
All this time.
That I didn’t want him.
“I was waiting,” I whispered into the dark.
The words felt useless the second they left my mouth.
I sat up.
No.
I couldn’t leave it like this.
I crossed to the window, pushing the curtain aside.
His house was right there.
Close enough to feel unfair.
There was a light on in his room.
Small but there.
He was home.
I hesitated.
Then turned, went to my desk, and pulled open the drawer.
The flashlight was still there.
Exactly where it had always been.
My fingers closed around it before I could think better of it.
Dead.
Of course it was dead.
I clicked it twice more, like that would help. Nothing.
I set it on the desk and stood there for a second, thinking.
Then I went downstairs.
The kitchen was dark except for the light above the stove. I moved quietly, pulling open the junk drawer—the one that had always held rubber bands, takeout menus from places that no longer existed and batteries. My fingers found a pack of AAs wedged under a manual nobody had ever read.
I took four, just in case, and went back upstairs.
My hands weren't entirely steady.
I told myself it was the dark.
Back at the window I fitted the batteries in, closed the cap, and clicked the button.
Light.
I exhaled.
Then leaned out and raised it.
Short.
Long.
Short.
The beam cut clean across the dark and hit his window.
I lowered it.
Waited.
Nothing.
My pulse picked up.
I tried again.
Short.
Long.
Short.
A beat.
Then—
Movement.
The curtain shifted.
My breath caught.
He stepped into view, the outline of him unmistakable even from here, and then the window opened.
Relief hit fast.
Sharp.
I dropped the flashlight onto the desk without looking away and grabbed my phone.
My fingers hovered for half a second.
Then—
Can we talk?
Sent.
I looked back up immediately.
Waiting.
For him.
For anything.
And for a second—
nothing happened.
????
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