I shake my head and cross my arms. “No, I just need to be alone right now.”
“What’s going on?”
I muster up the courage to smile, a fake smile that is to hide all my feelings and frustrations. “I’m having a shitty day and I just need to be alone. You’re not helping me.”
He clicks his lips and breathes in to speak again, but I interrupt him.
“Can you just drop it?” I snap. “The day is really getting to me, and I just need some time.”
Tyler nods slowly, leaning against the nearby wall. He extends a hand tentatively, as if he wants to reach out to me, but it falls back to his side, as if he’s reconsidered. “Okay.”
“Okay,” I say, brushing off the turmoil inside, trying to maintain a facade of nonchalance.
He gives me a nod and heads off, leaving me with my chaotic thoughts. It’s like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube with half the colors missing: sorting out my emotions, the weight of perfection, and finding space for how I feel about him… just intimidating and unsettling.
Great, now I feel like an asshole.
Chapter 24
Tyler
I sprawl out on the floor with a history book on my lap. The house resonates with the sounds of laughter and playful banter as Harper builds her colorful block castle next to me.
The doorbell rings, the chime startling me a bit. Harper’s gaze snaps towards the front door, and curiosity dances in her wide eyes.
“Stay here, Harp. I’ll check it out,” I tell her, setting the textbook aside and heading toward the door. Surprise flickers across my face as Harper cranes her neck to see who’s there.
“Hi, what brings you here?” I ask, leaning against the frame in a relaxed manner. Harper’s peering over my shoulder.
Serena stands on the doorstep, holding out a small tray of egg rolls with a bright smile. “I brought you egg rolls.”
“Egg rolls?” I raise an eyebrow, a quiet chuckle escaping me. “Why are you here, sunshine?”
Serena lowers the tray to her middle. “They’re apology egg rolls.”
I let out a soft laugh. “Apology egg rolls?”
“Yes.”
She lets out a sigh, her curtain bangs flying away from her face. “I’m sorry for snapping at you the other day. Your intentions were good, but,” she shifts on her heels, “I have a really hard time dealing with mistakes.”
I glance behind me to check on Harper, who moved on to her coloring books in the living room. “Want to come in?” I offer, stepping back to let Serena in.
I lead her into the kitchen and take a seat at one of the barstools, motioning for her to join me.
“I keep thinking I’m a failure.”
“You’re not a failure.”
“I hate making mistakes.” She says.
“I know. But mistakes are a part of life. They don’t make you any less of who you are as a person.”
“You don’t get it,” Serena breathes out, rubbing her temples.
“Explain.”
She folds her hands on the counter. “When I make a mistake, it’s not just about the action itself. It feels like a reflection of who I am. Like I’ve let everyone down, including myself. I don’t know,” she swivels her head towards me, “my family loves me, but I constantly feel pressure to be perfect all the time. Being the perfect daughter that’s good at everything. It’s so exhausting.” She says the last part softly, like it’s breaking her apart.
