Chapter 36 TYLER
I was having the worst day. Maybe it was because sleep had completely avoided me last night. Or maybe it was the constant ache in my shoulder that kept getting louder instead of quieter. Whatever the reason, I was in a terrible mood and fighting like hell not to take it out on everyone around me.
When my teammates tried to talk to me as they filed into class, all I gave them was a frown and silence. They backed away fast, like I was a ticking bomb.
The worst part was knowing the only person who had managed to snap me out of this anxious spiral earlier had been Harper. And that made me hate today even more. Because my eyes kept drifting to the door, waiting. Hoping. Annoyed at myself for hoping.
The second she appeared, standing at the doorway with that blondie, my heart reacted like it forgot how to function. A stupid rush of relief slammed right into my chest.
I wanted to talk to her, but what could I say that wouldn’t make me seem vulnerable. I didn’t want her to know how easily she got under my skin.
I tried to refocus on the textbook in front of me, but the words blurred together. I glanced up again, only this time she was gone. For some ridiculous reason, panic scraped against my ribs.
Before I could think twice, I slammed the book shut and stood up.
I found her near her locker. She had her forehead resting against the cold metal like she needed support. The friend she had been talking to was nowhere around. Her expression looked tight. Frustrated—almost hurt. Whatever happened, it obviously wasn't good.
"Hey," I said. It came out rough, like my voice had been dragged over gravel.
She turned slightly and lifted her gaze to me. "Hey."
"You free? To talk, I mean."
Her brows pulled together a little. She straightened from the locker and folded her arms gently across her chest.
"As long as I don’t have to deal with teen drama again, I am absolutely free."
I hesitated. Sure, I was curious about what had gone wrong with her friend, but that wasn't the reason I had walked here. I just wanted the comfort that showed up whenever she did. Pathetic. But real.
"Tyler," she said, drawing me back. "You wanted to talk to me, right?"
“Yeah,” I replied in my head. But I couldn't help staring. I noticed things I hadn't noticed before. She always wore her hair curly, but I had never really looked at how the strands bounced when she moved. Or how the ponytail swung behind her like it had its own heartbeat. Her gray eyes—piercing, focused. Beautiful in a way I wasn't prepared to deal with.
I tried to clear my head.
"Yeah,” I finally said out loud. “I mean, no. Not exactly."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You’re acting weird."
No kidding.
"My shoulder," I lied, grabbing onto the excuse like a lifeline.
She leaned forward a little. "What about it?”
"Is it supposed to hurt this much? I think you pushed me too far yesterday with all those exercises."
"I did?” she asked, full concern. Her brows scrunched slightly. Cute. Way too cute. I forced myself to drag my attention away from her lips and back to what she was saying.
“...one week. It takes time. So I don't think there's any need to worry. It's pretty much normal.”
I blinked, realizing I had drifted out of the conversation.
"Yeah," I muttered, pretending I had been listening.
"Maybe we should skip sessions today to let you rest. What do you think about a project meeting at a cafe? Or we could still meet at your place if it’s more comfortable."
"Cafe sounds good," I cut in quickly.
"Cool." She rocked back slightly on her heel, then clasped her fingers in front of her like she was debating something in her mind. "So. We missed first period. If we show up now, we could get detention."
I understood the hint perfectly. And honestly, I needed to get out of this building before I drowned in my own thoughts again.
"You mind going for a ride? Clear your head? Maybe some fresh air before we have to pretend we care about math again.”
She paused like she was deciding whether she should trust me. Then she nodded.
"Sure," she said, then held up a warning finger. "But this doesn't count."
I narrowed my eyes, confused. "Doesn’t count for what?"
"That I care. Or that as your therapist I shouldn't be encouraging this. Today we're just two rogue students escaping class. Nothing deeper."
I almost smiled. Almost. The idea alone felt dangerous.
We headed toward the parking lot in silence. The drizzle had settled for a wind, cold enough to make the air sting. Harper crossed her arms tight against her chest, the school shirts’ too thin to do little to help against the cold.
I pretended not to notice her trying to hide a shiver.
My car beeped as I unlocked it and I opened the passenger door for her. She paused, eyes flicking up in surprise, like she wasn’t sure if the gesture was meant for her.
“Get in,” I said simply.
Once she settled, I closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side. The moment I turned the ignition, I reached out and turned the heater on. The vents sighed warm air into the car.
She glanced at me again. A quiet question in her eyes.
“You’ll get sick,” I muttered. “And I need someone to help me with my exercises.”
Her lips twitched. “That was almost nice.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
She buckled in, then touched the center console screen. “You okay if I play something?”
I shrugged, even though I hated noise on days where my head already felt too full, but I let her choose.
A soft song filled the car. Something calm, almost sounding like Billie again. Her shoulders lowered a little.
I pulled out slowly, careful on the road. She watched the speedometer like it was a countdown to disaster.
“Relax,” I said. “I stil remember.”
She let out a relieved breath. “I really can't help it. It's one of the reasons I never drive.”
“Oh, I thought it's because you don't own a car,” I quipped.
She chuckled. “Sure. Make fun of me all you want.”
“Just saying,” I shrugged, falling into silence.
I didn't take us to the beach this time. Just let the road lead, until we climbed onto a bridge from where we could see rooftops and fading traffic lights below.
When I parked, she stepped out and walked toward the railing. The sky hung above us, heavy with clouds that looked ready to burst any moment. But it was the view of the town below that held our attention, rooftops and tiny streets stretched out like a living map.
“It looks magical seeing everything from up here,” she said, arms folding tighter around herself as if she did not want the cold ruining this moment.
“Yeah.” I stayed a little behind her. Close enough to hear her breathing. Not close enough for it to matter.
She turned to look at me, eyes studying every part of my face like she was trying to figure me out. “You don’t have to pretend with me. If you’re scared about… everything… you can say it.”
My jaw clenched. Heat worked its way into my chest.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s the safest answer you have,” she said quietly.
“Is this supposed to be a counseling session now?”
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s just two people telling the truth.”
I forced my gaze away. “My truth is that I’m fine.”
She breathed out slowly. Something in her changed. Like she finally realized that door wasn’t opening today.
“We should head back,” she said.
“Yeah.”
On the drive back, I kept my hand tight on the wheel. She kept hers folded in her lap. The heater hummed between us, warm, but none of us really felt it.
Her song ended. The silence that replaced it felt like walls rising again, brick by brick, back to what I had grown accustomed to.
No distractions. No softness. No letting anyone in.
Even if some part of me wanted to.