The house is quiet.
It’s the kind of quiet that wraps around me as a warm blanket, inviting me to sink into the soft cushions of the couch and forget about the rest of the world.
Charlie’s out cold at Alice’s place, snuggled in Violet’s old room with a mountain of stuffed animals and fairy lights.
It’s peaceful, and I’ve decided to soak it all in.
I pour myself a glass of wine and click the TV remote, landing on some old musical that plays on repeat every holiday season. It’s a classic.
I know all the words by heart, but it doesn’t stop me from belting them out like I’m on stage in front of an audience.
“Ohhh, the hills are alive, with the sound of…”
I catch myself mid-note and glance around, but there’s no one here to judge me. Just me, my glass of wine, and the show tunes filling the room.
Perfect.
I swing my legs up on the couch and get comfortable, wiggling my feet to the beat as I sip my wine, occasionally pausing to throw in my own dramatic, Broadway-style spin on the lyrics.
“Raindrops on roses, and whiskers on?—”
A sharp knock at the door.
I freeze mid-warble, glass raised halfway to my lips, and stare at the door like it’s just interrupted the most important performance of my life. I glance over at the clock: 10:15 p.m. on Thanksgiving evening.
Who knocks on your door at this hour?
I set my wine down with a sigh, groaning as I get up. The dramatic moment is ruined. For a brief second, I consider just pretending I didn’t hear it. But then, the knock comes again, more urgent this time, as if whoever’s on the other side is about to break in if I don’t open up.
“Okay, okay,” I mutter to myself, half amused, half annoyed, as I shuffle to the door in my fuzzy socks. “I’ll be right there. No need to knock like the house is on fire.”
I open the door and freeze.
There, standing in the doorway, is Sawyer.
I can’t help but notice how out of place he looks. He’s dressed in his usual jeans and jacket, but the way he’s standing there, hands stuffed into his pockets, his eyes darting around like he’s not sure what to do next?
It’s different. Uncharacteristically nervous. And, if I’m being honest, kind of adorable.
“What’s up, Sawyer?” I ask, trying to sound casual, but I can’t help the smile that sneaks onto my face. I’m still half in musical theater mode, so my words come out with more energy than I intend. “Got lost on your way to Broadway?”
Sawyer blinks, looking momentarily disoriented. “What? No, I, uh, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” he stammers, his cheeks flushing a little. “I just, uh, wanted to talk to you.”
I blink in surprise. “Talk? At this time of night?”
“Well, when you put it like that…” he trails off, a little awkwardly, but his grin is there.
It’s the same goofy grin I’ve seen a million times, but it feels a little different tonight. Maybe because there’s something else behind it—words he’s not saying.
I raise an eyebrow, trying to hide my curiosity. “You sure you’re not here to join in on my late-night musical number? Because trust me, I can belt out a mean version of ‘Do Re Mi.’” I gesture toward the TV, where Julie Andrews is twirling around on screen. “You could be Maria. I could be… I don’t know, the mountain goat? We can make it work.”
He chuckles, the nervousness starting to fade as he relaxes into the joke. “I, uh, don’t think I’m cut out for the whole… singing thing.” He glances at the TV and then back at me, the smile on his face softening. “But I do need to talk to you about something else.”
“Alright, Sawyer,” I say and step back to let him inside, the door swinging shut behind him. “I’m listening. But, just so you know, I was in the middle of my Oscar-worthy performance, so this better be good.”
Sawyer hesitates, debating something in his mind. Then, finally, he takes a deep breath and says, “Okay. Here’s the thing, Dakota… I’ve been thinking about this for a while. And I know it might sound crazy, but I… I like you. Like,reallylike you.”
I blink, thrown off guard by the directness of it. His words swirl around us, making everything feel a little more real. I’m about to say something when he holds up a hand, as if trying to slow down the moment.
