He laughed, a long, unexpected laugh, and pulled me into ahug, wrapping his arms around me and smothering me with his body. It felt amazing, being folded up in his embrace, warm and safe and like I never, ever wanted to leave. He tucked his face into my hair. “Shira,” he murmured, and it was my name and a laugh and an endearment all at once.
I leaned my head back slightly, not enough to pull away, but enough so our faces could be aligned, so I could stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.
Just shy of midnight, we crowded back inside in time for the countdown, taking coupes of champagne or sparkling apple cider and joining the crowd of adults. Tyler stood next to me, or I stood next to him, and emotion as fizzy as the bubbles in our drinks coursed through me. This was what you spent your life chasing after: not work or success or genius, but whatever brought you this level of happiness and joy and comfort. This was what made life good.
“Twelve! Eleven! Ten!”
For me, it was these people who made me so happy: this collection of family and neighbors and friends, people I had known my whole life. My parents and my grandparents, my aunts and uncles—all people I loved more than words could describe.
“Nine! Eight! Seven!”
My cousins, who made me roll my eyes and laugh, who made meme.
“Six! Five! Four!”
Olivia, who had always been at my side, who had always let me in.
“Three! Two! One!”
Tyler. Who kissed me as the clock struck midnight, tasting sweetly of sparkling apple cider. Who was not what I had thought but so much more, so much better.
And as everyone cheered and raised their glasses, the implacable realization rose inside me. An obvious one. One I should have seen coming a hundred years ago, or at least two weeks ago. One I’d been trying to ignore.
I had fallen—deeply, irrevocably, stupidly—right back in love with Tyler Nelson.
And that meant I had to end things with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The next day was January 1. New Year’s Day.
Though I’d been up past midnight, I woke early to a light snowfall. I stared wide-eyed out the window, then threw my blankets off, climbed out of my cozy cocoon, and started getting ready.
Showered, I checked my phone, only to see a message from Tyler:Good morning—happy new year’s day!
I stared at it, hands shaking.
A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been able to fathom initiating a conversation about relationships with anyone, let alone two in a few days, but now... Tyler and I didn’t want the same things. We worked in this bubble of Nantucket, where we lived next door and could wander over and make out and be casual. But in the real world?
I wanted more than Tyler wanted to give. I wanted everything. I didn’t think it was bad or a flaw that Tyler didn’t want a relationship the way I did, but settling for something I didn’t want would make me miserable. And I didn’t want to be miserable.
I texted him back:Any chance I could come over this morning?
Tyler: Sure.
I shook the entire time I got ready, not that it took me long. I didn’t bother with makeup or jewelry or hair, just pulled on leggings and my favorite sweatshirt, then dashed across the lawns. The morning light was still new and fresh, the gentle snowfall almost magical.
I texted once I arrived, and he immediately opened the doors, holding a finger to his lips. “They’re still asleep,” he whispered. He took my hand and we silently raced up to his room, stifling our footsteps and giggles.
Once there, though, I remembered I hadn’t come over for fun. I sobered as I sat on the edge of his bed. He glowed at me. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I said back, and swallowed.
And then he kissed me, and all my thoughts fled from my head.
I kissed him back. He pulled me closer, so close I could feel every hard line of his body. It was addictive, not just kissing but this firm warmth, this contact up and down every part of me. We fell backward into his bed. I could do this forever, the press of our bodies, the play of our tongues. I pressed a hand to his shoulder, spreading my palm across the corded muscles. His handslid under my shirt; his other skimmed up my leg, coming to a rest on my outer thigh.
God, I wanted this boy.
