Back To You

Just us (11)

Tuesday

Tayler: You busy tomorrow night?

Me: Not really. Why?

Tayler: Everyone's going to dinner. I told them I'm sick.

Tayler: Come over. Just want to see you. Nothing crazy.

I stared at the screen longer than I needed to.

Nothing crazy.

Just him.
Just me.
And all the unspoken things between us.

Me: Okay. What time?

Tayler: 8.

⸻

Wednesday

The house was quiet when I got there.

I texted him once I reached the front door. A second later, it cracked open, and Tayler poked his head out. His hoodie was pushed up to his elbows, and he looked... not sick at all.

I raised an eyebrow. "Convincing."

He stepped aside to let me in. "They bought it."

"Everyone's really gone?"

He nodded. "Dinner. Nate's idea. Group bonding or whatever."

"And you just happened to get sick."

"Terrible timing, right?"

I rolled my eyes, but I smiled. "Where are we going?"

He motioned for me to follow. "Upstairs. Living room feels risky."

⸻

His room was warm and dim, lit only by a small lamp on the nightstand. A movie was already paused on the screen — some low-stakes comedy with a bad rating and too much charm.

He grabbed the remote and flopped onto the bed, propping himself against the headboard. "Don't judge the movie. I picked it for background noise."

"Oh, so I'm the main event?"

He smirked, patting the spot next to him. "Obviously."

I hesitated just long enough for him to notice.

He didn't say anything. Just watched me quietly.

So I climbed onto the bed and settled in — not close enough to touch, but not far either.

For the first few minutes, we just watched.

Or pretended to.

I couldn't focus. Not really. Not with how close he was. Not with how aware I was of the soft sound of his breathing or the way his arm brushed mine when he adjusted his position.

"Okay," I said eventually, breaking the silence. "This is weird, right?"

He looked over. "It doesn't feel weird to me."

I turned my head toward him. "It doesn't feel like nothing."

"No," he said, "it doesn't."

I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my chin there.

He stayed quiet for a moment before adding, "But I meant it when I said I wanted to take things slow."

I glanced at him. "Then why ask me here? Alone?"

"Because I miss you," he said simply. "Because being around you feels like the only thing that makes sense right now."

My chest tightened.

"Tayler..."

"You don't have to say anything," he said gently. "I just wanted a night where it could be quiet. Just us. No noise. No drama. No pretending."

He reached for the blanket at the end of the bed and tossed half of it over my legs like it was the most casual thing in the world.

I let it happen.

Then I leaned back against the headboard too, shoulders brushing.

And we watched.

We didn't talk much after that. Just let the movie play while the silence settled around us — not heavy, not awkward.

Just calm.

Safe.

⸻

At one point, I felt his fingers graze mine under the blanket. I didn't pull away.

He didn't grab my hand — just let his stay close, resting there like he was saying I'm here. You don't have to be afraid.

Eventually, I leaned my head against his shoulder.

It wasn't a big moment.

But it felt like one.

His breath caught just slightly, and then I felt him relax.

"See," he said softly, "not scary."

"You're kind of scary," I mumbled.

He laughed under his breath. "You're scarier."

I smiled. My head stayed right where it was — pressed against the place just above his heartbeat.

And I realized: this didn't need to be anything more than it was.

Quiet.
Simple.
Real.

Not a restart. Not a fix.

Just a beginning.