The Way Things Change

Settling In

The first days of the new year felt different—brighter somehow. There was an excitement that hummed in the background of everything I did. Betty and I were officially together now, and though nothing had changed drastically in how we acted around each other, there was an undeniable sense of comfort and ease. The awkwardness and uncertainty were gone, replaced with a quiet confidence that we were on the same page, finally heading in the right direction.

We spent as much time together as we could over the break, finding little moments to sneak away from our families and just be with each other. Winter still had its grip on the town, the streets dusted with snow, and the air sharp with cold. But inside, where Betty and I spent our time, everything felt warm.

One afternoon, a few days after New Year's, Betty invited me over to her house again. Her parents were out, and we had the place to ourselves. It was the kind of day where the sky was a pale gray, threatening more snow, but for once, it didn't bother me. Inside, the world felt like it belonged just to us.

We settled on the couch in her living room, a blanket draped across our laps, and a movie playing in the background—though neither of us was paying much attention to it. Betty was curled up beside me, her head resting against my shoulder, her fingers laced with mine. It was such a simple thing, but it felt monumental, like we were finally comfortable enough to just be.

"You know," Betty said softly, breaking the quiet between us, "it still feels weird, doesn't it?"

I turned to look at her, my brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

"Us," she said, her voice thoughtful. "Not in a bad way. It's just... after everything, sometimes it still feels like a dream. Like I can't believe we're actually together again."

I smiled, understanding what she meant. There were times when I felt the same way—when I had to remind myself that this wasn't just a moment, that we were really in this for the long haul. "Yeah, I get that," I admitted. "I guess part of me thought we'd never get back to this point."

She shifted slightly, her head tilting to look up at me. "Do you ever regret it? The time we spent apart, I mean?"

I thought about that for a moment, my thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on the back of her hand. "I don't think I regret it," I said slowly, choosing my words carefully. "I mean, it was hard, but I think it made us stronger in the end. We needed that time to figure out who we were without each other. And now... now we get to figure out who we are *together*."

Betty smiled softly at that, her eyes warm. "I think you're right. It's like we're building something new, and that's kind of exciting."

"It is," I agreed, my heart swelling at the thought. "I like where we are now."

She laughed lightly, the sound like music. "Me too. I guess I just didn't expect it to feel this easy after everything."

"I think it's because we're not trying to rush it," I said. "We're just... letting it happen."

She nodded, her smile soft. "Yeah, I guess we are."

We fell into a comfortable silence again, the movie continuing to play in the background as the snow began to fall outside the window. It was peaceful, being there with her—like the world outside didn't matter, like we were in our own little bubble.

After a while, Betty spoke again, her voice quiet but steady. "James?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to mess this up," she said, her tone serious now.

I turned to face her fully, my heart skipping a beat at the vulnerability in her voice. "You're not going to mess this up, Betty. We're in this together, remember?"

"I know, but... sometimes I think about everything that happened before, and it scares me," she admitted. "What if we get it wrong again? What if—"

"Hey," I said softly, cutting her off. I reached up to gently cup her face, my thumb brushing against her cheek. "We're not the same people we were back then. We've both grown, and we've learned. Whatever happens, we'll figure it out together, okay? We're not going to make the same mistakes twice."

She looked at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine, and then she nodded, her expression softening. "Okay. I trust you."

I smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "Good. Because I trust you too."

We sat like that for a while longer, the weight of her earlier words settling into the background. I knew there would still be moments of doubt, moments where the past crept in and made us question what we were building. But I also knew that we were stronger now—stronger than we'd ever been. And as long as we faced those doubts together, I knew we could get through anything.

Eventually, the movie ended, and the room grew quiet again. Outside, the snow was falling heavier now, covering the streets in a blanket of white. I glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing how late it had gotten.

"I should probably head out soon," I said reluctantly, not wanting to leave but knowing I needed to.

Betty frowned slightly but nodded. "Yeah, I guess so."

We stood up from the couch, and I pulled on my coat, the warmth of the house already making the cold outside seem less appealing. Betty walked me to the door, her hands tucked into the pockets of her sweater, and for a moment, we just stood there, not wanting to say goodbye.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

I smiled, leaning in to kiss her gently. "Definitely."

As I stepped outside into the cold, the snow swirling around me, I felt a sense of contentment that I hadn't felt in a long time. Things were good—really good. And as I made my way back home through the quiet streets, I couldn't help but think that this was just the beginning of something even better.

We were finally settling in, and it felt like everything was falling into place.