I woke up to the sound of quiet movement.
That subtle rustle of fabric, the soft creak of the floorboard near the door.
Tyler.
He was trying to sneak out of my room like nothing happened. Like last night didn't exist.
I kept my eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep. My breathing stayed slow, even though my heart was beating faster than it had any right to. The air in the room still carried his scent ,faint soap, a hint of his cologne, and that warmth that made it hard to think straight.
When I heard the door click shut, I let out the breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding. My chest felt tight, almost guilty, like I'd just gotten away with something terrible.
Because maybe I had.
I'm beginning to feel like a terrible person for wanting Tyler,my stepbrother,more than I'm supposed to. It's not just the wanting, though. It's the fact that I've stopped trying to fight it.
Last night…
God, last night was one of the best nights of my life, and all we'd done was touch. Just Tyler's hand on me, mine on him. The way his thumb had brushed over my skin. The way he'd looked at me like I was the only person who mattered. We haven't gone beyond that,just mutual release, with Tyler's hand wrapped around both of us. And I'm not sure if I'm ready to go beyond that yet.
What if he wants more, and I can't give it to him?
What if today is that day… or tomorrow? Or next week?
The thought makes my stomach twist.
Argh.
I feel like ripping my hair out.
The only solution I can see is to stop this...whatever this is before it spins completely out of control. I'm supposed to hate Tyler, not fall for him. That was the rule. That was the one thing I thought I could keep steady in my life. But now…
Now I feel like my life isn't going the way it's supposed to.
I'm way too happy, and that's a problem.
Whenever I get too happy, something bad always seems to be waiting around the corner.
I try to roll over and sleep again, but it's useless. My brain won't shut up. My thoughts keep looping,Tyler's hands, Tyler's voice, the way his mouth curves when he smirks like he knows exactly what I'm thinking. It's maddening.
So I just lie there in the half-light, staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything and nothing until my alarm finally tells me it's time to drag myself out of bed.
Classes drag today. Like, painfully slow. I can't focus, no matter how many times I try to pull myself back into the lesson. The words from the teacher just float past my ears, meaningless.
Dan sits two seats away from me in history, tapping his pen like he's either bored or annoyed. I can't tell which, and I'm not sure I want to. Whether he notices I'm out of it or not, he doesn't say anything.
Fine by me.
By the time lunch rolls around, I'm exhausted from doing nothing. I sling my bag over my shoulder, already thinking about hiding in the cafeteria's corner and pretending the rest of the day doesn't exist.
I should've gone with someone. I should've at least waited for Dan or… God, even Tyler. But no. I decided to walk there alone.
Which is exactly why I don't notice him until it's too late.
The dumb jock,the one who'd threatened me before steps into my path like he's been waiting for this moment. His grin is all teeth, and it makes my skin crawl.
Before I can react, his hand clamps around my arm, and he's dragging me into the nearest empty classroom.
The door slams shut behind us, and then my back slams against the wall. The impact sends a shock of pain through my ribs, knocking the breath out of me.
"Ouch, what the hell!" I snap, shoving at his chest.
"You thought I was kidding," he says, his voice low and threatening, "when I told you to stay away from Tyler?"
I glare at him, even though my heart is pounding. "Fuck off, asshole. You should tell Tyler to stay away from me instead. Isn't he supposed to be your—"
I don't get to finish. His fist slams into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. The pain blooms sharp and hot, and I double over, gasping.
He raises his arm for another punch, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
But it never lands.
When I open them, he's on the floor, and Tyler is on top of him, fists flying.
"Tyler...stop! Get off him!" My voice sounds distant, almost panicked.
But Tyler doesn't stop. Not right away. He punches the guy again once, twice,before finally pushing himself to his feet, chest heaving.
He grabs the jock by the collar and hisses, "Stay away from him. Next time, it'll be worse."
The guy mutters something, but Tyler shoves him back down.
"Come on, let's go," I say quickly, my voice sharp with urgency.
Tyler looks at me, his eyes dark. "Are you okay?" His hand comes up like he's going to touch me, but I flinch back before he can.
"I'm fine. I need to eat before lunch ends." I sidestep him, walking out without looking back.
At the cafeteria, I grab the first thing I see some sad looking sandwich and a bottle of water and head straight for the most secluded corner I can find.
I eat quickly, not because I'm hungry, but because I want to avoid both Dan and Tyler.
When lunch ends, I throw away the wrapper, sling my bag over my shoulder, and head to my next class.
The rest of the day blurs together, a haze of noise and half-heard voices. My stomach still aches faintly from the punch, but I keep my head down and get through it.
I make it home before Tyler does, and I don't know whether that's a relief or just another thing to overthink .
The house is quiet when I walk in.
Too quiet.
I dump my stuff by the couch and just stand there for a moment, staring at the walls like they might give me answers.
But they don't.
They never do.
My stomach still aches faintly where that idiot's fist landed. I press my hand against it, wincing. It's not bad enough to bruise, but it's enough to remind me that today actually happened. That people can hate you without ever knowing you. That being near Tyler,wanting Tyler makes me a target for things I don't even fully understand.
I head upstairs, avoiding the mirror in the hallway because I don't want to see myself. I already know what I'll look like tired, small, maybe a little pathetic.
Once in my room, I close the door, leaning my back against it like I'm keeping the world out. Maybe I am.
It's not like anyone's banging to get in anyway.
I sit on the bed and let myself fall backward, staring at the ceiling. My brain starts doing that thing again,spinning in circles, going too fast for me to catch a single thought and hold it still.
Tyler's face keeps flashing in my head. The way he looked when he yanked that guy off me—fury so sharp it could cut glass. The way his voice went low, dangerous, when he told him to stay away from me.
It should make me feel safe.
Instead, it makes me feel… complicated.
Like I'm not sure if I'm something Tyler wants to protect, or something he's going to break without meaning to.
And then there's the other part—the part I hate to admit.
I liked that he defended me. That he cared enough to get involved.
Which is exactly why I need to stop this.
Because if I keep liking it, I'm going to get used to it.
And if I get used to it, I'll need it.
And needing someone like Tyler is dangerous.
I roll onto my side, burying my face into the pillow. It smells like laundry detergent and a hint of his cologne from last night. I should change the pillowcase, but I don't. I just… breathe it in until it hurts.
I tell myself to get up. Do homework. Make food. Something.
But instead, I just lie there.
Thinking about the way Tyler's hand had felt against mine last night.
The way he'd snuck out this morning without saying goodbye, like he was protecting the fragile, unspoken thing we'd built.
Or maybe protecting himself.
A darker thought creeps in before I can stop it:
What if he regrets it?
What if he's already decided it was a mistake, and that's why he left before I woke up?
I feel that thought lodge somewhere in my chest, heavy and sharp.
The room feels smaller all of a sudden. The walls closer. My chest tighter.
I sit up, rubbing my hands over my face. My fingers are trembling, and I'm not sure why. I try to tell myself it's just leftover adrenaline from earlier—the fight, the yelling, the punch.
But I know better.
It's him.
It's always him.
I glance at my phone on the nightstand. No messages. No missed calls.
I could text him, but I don't. I don't even know what I'd say that wouldn't sound needy or stupid.
So I set it face down and lie back again, staring at the darkening ceiling as the sun slips lower outside.
The thing about spiraling is you never notice the moment it starts,you just wake up halfway down and realize you're falling.
By the time I hear the front door open downstairs, I've already fallen far enough that I don't know if I want to climb back out.