“Boundaries aren’t betrayal, Alli,” I say, watching her closely. “They’re just a reminder that you’re a person, too, and not just someone people dump their opinions on.”
Her eyes meet mine, and the air thickens. The wall she holds up so tightly isn’t gone, but there’s a crack. Maybe it’s trust, maybe it’s just the moment. I can’t tell. But it’s there.
We pull into her driveway, the house looming ahead in the dim light. I kill the engine but don’t move. The world feels louder with the engine off, but all I can hear is the rapid thumping of my heart, racing to match the vibe hanging between us.
“You didn’t have to drive me home,” she says, like it’s an excuse she’s trying to make. “I would’ve been fine.”
“Your knee’s shaking like a damn earthquake.”
“I’m not that nervous,” she mumbles, but her body betrays her, the slightest quiver giving her away.
“Yeah, okay.” I chuckle, leaning back in my seat. “I don’t mind driving you home after what happened.”
She shifts in her seat, looking away. “You can’t just Uber home on Christmas night. It could take you hours to find a ride.”
“The hell I can’t.”I’d rather be here with her than anywhere else.“Besides, I needed to make sure you got home safe.”
A tiny breath escapes her lips before she gives a quiet nod. “Guess I can’t argue with you.”
“Want me to walk you to the door?” I try to keep casual, but my pulse betrays me.
“Uh…” Her smile falters long enough to make me think she might turn me down, but then she slowly nods. “Okay.”
I peel my jacket off, draping it over her shoulders before she can reject it. “You’re freezing.”
She glances up at me, her eyes on me for what felt like an eternity, before pulling it tighter around her. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” I get out and jog around to her side, opening the door for her. She’s still shivering a little, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the cold air.
We walk together, the silence stretching out between us. As we reach the porch, the tension pulls tight, the silence strangles me, and I know I can’t let it sit there any longer.
“Can we talk? About us?”
She stops mid-step, her shoulders stiffening for a split second before she spins to face me. “Us?”
“Yeah, us.”
“Do we need to? I think everything’s been said already.”
It’s too much. My breath catches as I close the distance, my heart pounding in my chest. I don’t think about it; I don’t give myself a chance to second-guess. Two strides, and I’m right there, facing her.
“No, it hasn’t been said yet. Not everything.” I say, my voice rougher than I mean it to be, but it’s true, every bit of it.
She looks at me, her eyes flicking down and then back up, her face like an unread book piercing through me.
“You walked away, Alli. For good reason. I messed up. But… I’m giving you space. And yet, every time you pull me back in, it’s like we’re both pretending this”—I gesture between us—“doesn’t exist. But we both know it does.”
“I don’t know how to do this,” her voice cracks. “I’m scared as hell to want you, but here I am, wanting you anyway.” She clears her throat and exhales, bolting her feet to the ground before she admits what she’s been avoiding. “I’ve loved you for years. But if this doesn’t work… if we break again, I don’t think I could survive it.”
I watch as her hands ball into fists, her shoulders tight, like she’s preparing for the worst. And damn, it hits me harder than I expect.
I find myself choking on my words. “What do you mean,years?”
She licks her lips as I await the confession. “I’ve known you since we were kids. You used to trade your chocolate pudding for my Doritos in fifth grade…” She smiles briefly at the memory. “That time at field day when you face-planted during tug of war.”
Her smile doesn’t fade as she looks back at me. “You’ve always been there, but then… puberty happened. And one day, you stopped being the goofy friend I traded snacks with. You became someone I couldn’t stop thinking about.”
I open my mouth, but the words don’t come out right away.
