“It’s not all sunshine and six packs, Hayley,” he says. “Even you’re not superficial enough to think looks are everything.”
“They help.”
“Then what have you got to complain about?”
“Umm… HELLOOO?”
He grins. “Okay. Maybe this isn’t your finest moment.”
“In the spirit of honesty…” He hesitates, then continues. “How much do you know about me?”
“Black sheep was mentioned,” I confess. “And something about making swords… out of boats?”
Tyler lets out a short laugh, them seems to catch himself. “That sounds about right. Did Lily tell you that?”
“Umm…”
“No, I don’t build swords out of boats. I swear your best friend never actually listens to me.”
“In Lily’s defence,” I say, “you do look like someone who would swashbuckle.”
I laugh quickly, as if that might erase the image of a ship, a complete lack of shirts, and a frankly unhelpful amount of plundering.
Tyler laughs with me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Can I be honest about something else?”
I nod.
“You scare the shit out of me.”
The words hang between us, sudden and raw.
I blink, startled, unsure whether I should laugh, cry, or crawl under a hedge and never emerge.
I let out a sharp laugh. “Cheers?”
“No, I mean it,” he says. “You’re real. You say what you mean. You make people laugh and feel things and… yeah. That’s terrifying.”
We fall quiet again.
Then, slowly, without ceremony, he drapes his arm around my shoulder.
I lean in. Just slightly.
But enough.
We sit like that a moment longer. A little too close. A little too something.
Then, softly, he asks, “You alright?”
Oh no.
Not the concern. Not the voice. The gentle, real one that hits me straight in the chest like I’ve been drop-kicked by a marshmallow.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“Hayley.”
