Back To You

Drifting apart (10)

Tayler is still leaning against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. His arms were crossed, his head slightly tilted, and the way he looked at me—like he knew exactly what effect he was having—made my stomach flip.

I try to focus on the bag of chips in my hands, but it's pointless. His presence is loud.

"Are you always this awkward, or is it just when I'm around?" His voice is teasing, playful.

Everything started to feel normal again, like nothing had changed. It was like our conversation just a few minutes ago had never happened. That was the kind of person Tayler was—he could make everything slip back into place so easily, so quickly, like nothing ever disrupted the balance. It was almost unnerving how fast he could do it, as if the weight of the moment had never existed in the first place.

I scoff, even though my face is already warming. "I'm not awkward."

"Mm." He acts like he's considering it, like he doesn't quite believe me. "So you just freeze up and forget how to function around everyone?"

I shoot him a glare, but he's grinning now, his eyes glinting with something I can't quite place. "You know, Mads, if you wanted me this bad, you could've just said so."

My mouth drops open. "Excuse me?"

He takes a step closer, like he's testing me, like he wants to see how far he can push. "It's kinda obvious."

I hate that I can't look away from him. I hate that my pulse betrays me, that my breath catches for just a second too long. "You're delusional."

He smirks. "Am I?"

He's right in front of me now, so close I can smell the faint scent of his cologne, feel the heat radiating off of him. My heart is hammering, my body refusing to listen to the warning bells in my head.

I need to say something. To shut this down before I completely lose whatever grip I have left.

"You are so full of yourself," I mutter.

Tayler just chuckles, and then—before I can even react—he leans in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, "Relax, Mads. I'm just messing with you."

I suck in a sharp breath, my entire body lighting up like a damn firework.

And then he pulls back, his expression smug as hell, like he knows exactly what he just did to me. "See you around."

And just like that, he's gone, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding, my face burning, and my thoughts completely wrecked.

—

That Night

By the time I get home, my body is exhausted, but my mind is anything but. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. The way he looked at me. The way his voice dropped when he whispered in my ear.

It's stupid. So stupid.

I shake my head, pushing the thoughts away as I climb into bed. The second my head hits the pillow, my phone buzzes on my nightstand.

I reach for it, and when I see Bryce's name on the screen, my stomach twists.

I hesitate for a second before answering. "Hey."

"Hey." His voice is warm, familiar. "Did you get home okay?"

"Yeah." I swallow, adjusting the blankets around me. "You?"

"Mhm." There's a pause, and then he sighs. "You sound tired."

I am tired. But not in the way he thinks. "Long day."

Another pause. This one stretches a little too long. "You sure you're okay?"

I hesitate, gripping my phone tighter. "Yeah, of course."

He doesn't sound convinced, but he doesn't push. Instead, we talk like we always do—about nothing and everything all at once. It's routine, something we've done a million times before.

But for some reason, it feels different. I feel different.

And I think Bryce notices.

—

The Next Day

The first thing I see when I wake up is my phone screen lighting up with a message.

Bryce: Morning ❤️

I stare at it for a second before responding.

Me: Morning

No heart. No emojis. Just... nothing.

And maybe it's stupid, but it feels like something.

Our texts throughout the day are the same. Shorter, colder. The warmth that was always there? It's gone, replaced by something distant. Something off.

The Café

The café is quiet, the kind of quiet that makes everything feel heavier. The air between us is thick with something unspoken, something that lingers no matter how much we try to ignore it.

Bryce stirs his coffee absentmindedly, his gaze flicking to me every few seconds. I know he wants to say something, to ask the question that's been sitting between us for days now.

"So," he finally says, setting his spoon down. "How's everything at Olivia's?"

It's such a safe question, so careful.

"Good," I say, forcing a small smile. "Chaotic, but good."

He nods, but his eyes study me like he's searching for cracks in my answer. "I bet. How's Tayler?"

I flinch. It's small, barely noticeable—but Bryce sees it. I know he does.

I reach for my drink, using it as an excuse to look away. "Fine, I guess."

Bryce lets out a dry laugh, leaning back in his chair. "Fine, huh?"

I exhale through my nose, placing my cup down carefully. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know," he says, voice lighter than it should be. "Maybe something a little more convincing?"

I finally meet his gaze, and for the first time since I got here, I see it—the tension, the quiet frustration in his eyes.

We don't talk like this. We never have.

I fold my arms, trying to keep my voice even. "Why are you asking about Tayler?"

"Because something's going on with you, Mads," he says, not breaking eye contact. "You're different. You've been distant. And I don't know... I just have a feeling."

My stomach twists, but I keep my face neutral. "A feeling about what?"

Bryce exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw before looking at me again. "Are we good?"

It's a simple question. One I should be able to answer without hesitation.

But I don't.

And that silence? That says everything.

Bryce watches me for a long moment before nodding slowly, like he just got the answer he was dreading. He picks up his coffee, but he doesn't drink it. Instead, he sighs, shaking his head with a small, humorless chuckle.

"You know, if you don't wanna be with me, you can just say it."

My chest tightens. "Bryce—"

"It's fine," he cuts me off, but his voice isn't sharp. It's tired. Resigned. "I just... I don't wanna be that guy holding onto something that's already gone."

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

Because maybe he's right.

______________
Edited