Mess To Be Made

64

            Tyler stood from his seated position against the hallway wall the second I exited the bedroom, his hazel eyes fixed on me. Before he could make another move, I took a long stride to close the space between us and laced my hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down until our lips collided.

He responded quickly, his muscles underneath my hands relaxing as his arms wrapped around my waist. He pulled me closer, eliminating any sliver of air left between us.

Eventually, I rocked back onto my heels, breaking the kiss just enough to take a breath. Tyler let out a chuckle that rumbled from his chest against mine. "So, I guess the conversation went well?"

"Horrible," I whispered sarcastically, moving up on my tiptoes to peck him quickly before retreating again. "She vowed to never speak to me again."

Now it was him leaning down to peck me playfully. "Funny. That's exactly what I told myself when I first met you."

Princess.

The memory of him, almost eight months ago, walking to school flashed across my mind. I'd pulled up beside him offering a ride, only for him to deny me in a very broody Tyler way. And I know he wouldn't have gotten in my car if it hadn't started pouring rain.

But damn, I'm glad he did.

And we might be joking now. But there was still a hint of truth to his statement. And both of us knew that.

My mind blanked as I watched his irises shift from playful green to concerned copper. His hand lifted to my cheek so his thumb could brush across my cheekbone tenderly, his voice a hoarse murmur, "What's going on in that beautifully annoying mind of yours?"

I found myself trying to force a smile, only for it to wither away before it could even cross my lips. Under his stare, my defense was useless. He could see right through me.

He sees me.

I stepped away from him, just enough so his hand fell from my cheek and my hand slipped off the back of his neck, sliding down his arm gently until I gripped his hand in mine. Such a simple movement, and yet it was like that one action cast a weighted blanket over us.

I watched as his copper glare turned even darker. Mahogany.

The same deep brown eyes that I saw from the passenger seat of Spencer's car the morning he moved in across the street.

I squeezed his hand harder, pushing down the lump in my throat as Tina's staticky voice echoed through me.

Honey, I'm counting on it.

"I cared, for so long, about what people thought about me," I started, letting words spill out of me before I could overthink what I was saying and why I was saying it. "And then I cared about how I thought about myself... and then, I cared about how you thought about me."

He inhaled quietly, but it was sharp enough for me to hear it, and his fingers weaved a little bit further into mine as his eyes scanned my face, waiting for me to continue

I squeezed my hand against his in recognition. And reassurance. For him mostly. But maybe a bit for me too. "And, I don't know, I guess looking back now, the only way I knew how to handle any of it was by giving in.

"When I cared about what other people thought of me, I gave in to their expectations. I drank. I fucked around. I let them fuck me."

Tyler stiffened but remained stoic and silent. Simply staring at me.