My first real boyfriend.
My first everything, really.
And I loved him.
I think.
I mean-what else could this be? The way my chest feels lighter when he’s around. The way I still get nervous before I see him, even after all this time. The way I still want him to see me-really see me-when I land a new routine or when I laugh at one of his stupid jokes.
It’s love.
It has to be.
Right?
I tap the end of my pen against the desk, trying to shake it off.
It doesn’t work.
Jonathan-Jo?-scratches something in the margins of his notebook. I catch a glimpse.
A terrible doodle of a dog. Or a horse. Or a deeply cursed llama.
Before I can second-guess myself, I nudge my elbow into his arm and whisper, “Is that supposed to be a dog? Or are you making a statement about evolution?”
He glances at me, startled.
Then he laughs.
Not a fake laugh. Not a polite one.
A real, low, startled laugh that makes a few people turn around in their seats.
He grins and flips the notebook toward me, revealing an even worse drawing underneath-a stick figure riding the mystery animal, holding a coffee cup like a sword.
“Art,” he says seriously. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I snort under my breath. “You’re right. True genius is always misunderstood in its time.”
He chuckles again, shakes his head, and turns back to face the professor, still grinning.
And just like that, the tightness in my chest loosens a little.
Not completely. But enough.
Enough to remember that not everyone in this building hates me. Enough to remember that sometimes, a dumb drawing and a dumber joke are enough to make a terrible morning feel a little less permanent.
The rest of class blurs by faster than I expect.
I jot down a few half-coherent notes. Mostly doodles of my own. A stick ballerina facing off against a stick horse-monster with a tiny flag that says help.
Jo catches me once, raises an eyebrow, and smirks.
I smirk back.
It’s nothing.
It’s not important.
But it’s something.
The professor dismisses us early-a rare miracle-and I shove my stuff into my bag with more energy than I started with. Jonathan stands too, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.
I’m halfway out the door with him when I see Tyler.
He’s leaning against the wall across the hall, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, eyes scanning the crowd.
The second he spots me, he straightens.
His face shifts into that familiar smile-the one that used to unravel me without even trying.
“Hey,” he says, pushing off the wall and weaving through the stragglers to reach me. His eyes flick briefly to Jonathan, then settle back on me.
I feel Jo glance between us, and for a split second, the air feels… heavier.
“See you around, Vale,” Jo says, casual, giving me a quick salute with two fingers.
I manage a small smile. “Later, Picasso.”
He laughs under his breath and disappears down the hall, leaving me alone with Tyler.
Ty steps closer, hands still in his pockets, shoulders a little hunched like he’s trying to look smaller than he is.
“Wanted to walk you to lunch,” he says. “If that’s okay.”
It is.
It should be.
I nod. “Yeah. Of course.”
Tyler falls into step beside me as we weave through the crowded hallway.
It’s funny-he’s got one of those walks that somehow makes people move out of his way without him even trying. I used to think it was because of how tall he is, or maybe because he’s always got that calm, easy energy, like nothing ever rattles him. Now I’m starting to wonder if it’s just that when you believe the world will part for you, it usually does.
He doesn’t say anything at first. Just nudges me lightly with his elbow.
“Hey,” he says. “About earlier. I’m sorry.”
I glance over at him.
He looks… earnest. That slightly furrowed brow he gets when he knows he’s messed up but isn’t sure exactly how to fix it.
I shrug one shoulder. “It’s fine.”
He exhales like he’s been holding his breath. “It’s not fine, though. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I wasn’t on your side.”
I shrug again, slower this time. “I know you’re just trying to be nice.”
Tyler slows his pace a little, matching mine exactly, even when the hallway flow gets tighter.
“I am on your side, Penny,” he says, and this time he stops walking completely. I turn toward him, a little confused.
Before I can say anything, he lifts his hands and cups my face gently between them, his palms warm against my cheeks.
“I’m always on your side,” he says. “I just… don’t like conflict. You know that.”
He says it so easily, so naturally, like that should be enough.
And maybe it is.
I smile, small and a little stiff, but real. “I get it.”
And I do. I really do.
Tyler’s always been the guy who makes peace. Who cracks a joke when things get too serious. Who diffuses tension instead of adding to it.
It’s one of the things I loved about him first.
It’s just… sometimes it feels like being on my side would mean not diffusing it.
Sometimes it feels like it would mean letting the tension burn, just a little, just enough to prove that he’s really, truly standing next to me.
But maybe that’s not fair.
Maybe I’m just tired. Sensitive.
Overthinking it because the morning went sideways and I’m still carrying it around like an idiot.
I shake the thought off and force a little more lightness into my voice. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
Instantly, Tyler brightens, like I flipped some hidden switch back on. His hands drop to his sides, and he rocks back on his heels, the way he always does when he’s excited but trying not to look like it.
“My parents called this morning,” he says. “They’re doing a big dinner thing tonight. They want us to come. You too.”
I blink at him. “Me?”
He laughs under his breath. “Yeah, you. Who else would I be talking about?”
I bite back a smile. “They usually don’t… you know. Ask.”
“They love you,” he says easily. “You know that.”
I do.
Or at least, I used to think I did.
It’s not like I’m not welcome. Tyler’s parents have always been kind to me-especially compared to my own parents, who mostly keep a polite distance from my life unless there’s a trophy involved.
But they don’t usually make a point to invite me. It’s always been more casual. More, if you’re around, stay for dinner.
Not… please be there.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask.
Tyler shrugs, like it’s the most unimportant thing in the world. “They said it’s a surprise.”
“A surprise?”
“They sounded excited. So, whatever it is, it’s good.”
I stare at him for a second, suspicious. “You’re not even curious?”
He grins. “Nope. I figure if it’s good news, it’s worth waiting for.”
I make a face. “I hate waiting for surprises.”
“I know,” he says, smirking. “You’re like a cat with a closed door.”
I elbow him lightly in the ribs. He catches my wrist with one hand and twirls me half a step toward him like it’s a dance move.
“Relax, ballerina,” he says. “It’ll be fun.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling now. He’s impossible to stay mad at when he’s like this-so easygoing, so sure the world’s going to hand him something good.
Maybe I need some of that.
Maybe tonight will be exactly what I need to snap myself out of this weird, heavy mood.
“I have practice,” I remind him.
“I know. I told them. It’s cool.”
He grins again, wide and bright.
“I’ll pick you up after. For real this time,” he adds, winking.
I snort. “Better be.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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