Back To You

The space between us (9)

The second Marcel told Tayler to take a seat, my chest tightened. I kept my eyes glued to the coffee table, pretending not to care, pretending I wasn't hyper-aware of the fact that the only open spot was right next to me.

I didn't look at him, but I felt it—the hesitation, the weight of his decision hanging in the air. I knew he had to be thinking about it, about what it would mean for him to sit beside me. Then, instead of sitting next to me, he turned, walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a chair from there instead.

The scraping sound of the chair legs against the floor made Olivia shoot him an annoyed look, but I barely noticed. I was too busy trying to ignore the knot forming in my stomach. He would rather drag a whole chair across the room than sit next to me.

Fine. Whatever.

I wasn't going to let it bother me. He had his reasons, I told myself. But even as the words played in my head, I couldn't shake the feeling that the distance between us was growing—not just physically, but in a way that had nothing to do with the room itself.

I kept my focus on the TV, even though I wasn't really watching. The conversation around me felt distant, like I was hearing it through water. The chatter from Olivia, Marcel, and the others faded in and out. All I could think about was Tayler, sitting there in that chair, looking anywhere but at me.

Then, just as Tayler settled into his spot, my phone vibrated on the table.

I reached for it without thinking, my heart already speeding up. The screen flashed with Bryce's name.

Bryce❤️

Shit.

I froze for a second, fingers hovering over the phone. My heart gave an uncomfortable thud in my chest. I could feel the air growing heavier, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. Before I could flip the phone over, I caught the smallest movement from the side of my vision.

Tayler's eyes.

He saw it.

A flicker of something passed over his face—so quick I almost missed it. His jaw tightened slightly, his hands pressing into his knees like he was trying to anchor himself. But then, just as fast as it came, he looked away, his expression unreadable.

I swallowed hard and turned my phone face down on the table. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just given something away, something I wasn't ready to acknowledge. The room suddenly felt hotter, like everyone had turned the temperature up without me noticing.

The conversation around me continued, but I couldn't focus on it. The words felt like they were coming from miles away, as if I was living in two worlds at once. One where everyone was just... normal. Laughing. Talking. And the other, where everything was changing—slowly, subtly, in ways I wasn't sure I could keep up with.

I could still feel Tayler beside me, but he was a world away.

At some point, he stood up without a word and walked out of the room, disappearing down the hall toward his room. The absence of his presence left a strange quiet in the air. It wasn't peaceful; it was the kind of quiet that filled the space between people when they've said everything and nothing at the same time.

Only then did I feel like I could breathe properly again. But the relief felt wrong, like I was holding my breath for too long.

The second I stepped into the kitchen, I exhaled.

Finally, a break.

The living room had started to feel too full, too loud, too much. Between the others talking, Olivia's constant glances in my direction, and the fact that he was sitting just a few feet away from me—it was too much. Too much space. Too much silence. Too much everything.

I grabbed a bag of chips from the counter, tearing it open with more force than necessary. I paused for a second, just enjoying the quiet. This is nice. A moment to myself. No tension, no pressure. Just—

I turned to walk out.

And almost walked straight into him.

Tayler.

My heart stopped.

We both froze in the doorway.

For a second, neither of us moved. Then we both awkwardly shifted to the right to make space. And then—at the exact same time—we both moved to the left.

Shit.

We're close. Too close.

A breath away, his face barely a few inches from mine, and suddenly, I feel like my whole body is locked up. My pulse thrummed loud in my ears, drowning out everything except for the fact that we were standing in each other's space like it was the most natural thing in the world—and the most impossible thing at the same time.

I could feel his breath on my face, the warmth of it mixing with my own nervous exhale. My grip tightened around the bag of chips, and I forced myself to breathe, to blink, to move, but all I could do was stare at him—his eyes, his lips, the way his jaw tightened slightly like he was thinking about what to say.

It was a moment that stretched on and on, and I couldn't figure out what was holding us in place. It wasn't just the physical proximity—it was everything. The unspoken things that neither of us knew how to address. The way he was looking at me, like he was searching for something, some answer I wasn't sure how to give.

The silence grew heavier, suffocating even.
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Edited