It was strange how familiar everything still felt after years of being away, and yet, how it all felt somehow new, too.
The fresh air and cool New England morning was invigorating. It was still technically spring, though summer was just a couple weeks away, and I loved the smell of the damp grass in the morning, the feel of the breeze sweeping in from the mountains, the breathtaking sights of the first rays of sun making their way through the spruces and pines.
Seven miles and an hour later, and all the anxiety I’d felt the night before was completely gone.
At least, until I rounded the foyer into the kitchen and saw I wasn’t the only one up early on Sunday morning.
Tyler sat at the kitchen island, still in his navy blue sweatpants and simple white t-shirt, with one foot planted on the ground and the other hooked casually on the lower bar of his stool. His hair was an absolute disaster, the boyish waves sticking up this way and that. He had both hands wrapped around a mug of hot tea, his eyes focused on the iPad he had propped up in front of him, and Bluetooth headphones in his ears.
At first, he didn’t notice me, and I slowed my steps, standing silently at the entry of the kitchen and watching him. I’d done everything I could last night to avoid his gaze, to not look at him, and now that I had a stolen moment to observe, I found my chest tightening again, my mouth dry and sticky.
His brown eyes were hidden beneath bent brows, expression serious as he watched whatever was on the screen. Small lines creased the edges of his eyes — lines that weren’t there when we were kids. He’d grown into a man somehow, overnight, it seemed. Then again, it had been years.
I’d seen him on social media, watched from afar as his YouTube channel took off. I’d seen pictures of him on Instagram — traveling through Europe, hiking in Australia, swimming in hot pools in Iceland. I didn’t follow him, of course, but his profile was public, which allowed me to flip through picture after picture on the nights when I was a pathetic mess.
But, pictures and videos didn’t do justice to the actual man who sat studiously at that kitchen island.
He was something between the boy I used to love and the man I’d never know, familiar and unreachable all at once.
Tyler shook his head at something, letting out a frustrated sigh and kicking back the bar stool a little before taking a sip of his tea. His eyes flicked to me then, back to the screen, and then, he did a doubletake, this time fixing his gaze on me and leaving it there.
Something changed in his eyes when he looked at me, like a shadow passed over them and held him captive. I was dressed in jogger shorts and a modest tank top, but from the way he watched me, I might as well have been completely naked.
That’s what his gaze did to me, what it always had done.
It stripped me bare.
I sniffed, breaking our eye contact and walking into the kitchen like he wasn’t even there. I reached into the cabinet that I knew housed the glassware, and then dipped inside the fridge for the filtered pitcher of water, filling my glass to the top.
“Morning run completed by seven a.m.,” Tyler mused, and I turned to face him as he plucked the headphones from his ears. “That’s impressive, even by your standards.”
I shrugged. “I’m up at five almost every morning.”
“Five, huh? Used to be more around nine, if I remember right.”
“Yeah, well, a lot has changed since I was eighteen.”
“Trust me,” he said, his voice low and hoarse from the morning. “I’m aware.”
The way he said the words was almost as if they tasted bad, as if they were poison he was spitting out and onto the floor between us. Still, there was a heat in his gaze, and blood rushed to my face as I lifted the glass of water to my lips and took my first sip.
“How’d you sleep?” he asked.
“Not the best.”
“The jet lag?”
I pulled my long ponytail off my neck and over my shoulder, wiping at the sweat there as I avoided his eyes. “Must be.”
A silent moment passed between us, and I watched the floor while Tyler watched me.
“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”
The words came out of nowhere, and I finally met his gaze, my heart beating in my throat. It shouldn’t have been a big deal that he’d pointed out that he didn’t know about Jacob, except that there were photos of us on my Instagram — which told me that Tyler didn’t ever look me up.
I didn’t matter at all to him.
And if his actions seven years ago didn’t prove that, the simple statement he just made hammered it home.
“We don’t exactly talk,” I reminded him, shoving down the urge to say you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend, either.
“I know. Why is that?”
His eyes watched me carefully, but we both knew he knew the answer to that question. And while I didn’t love when he was acting like he had a right to be mad at me last night, I really didn’t like this whole pretending like nothing happened between us charade.
I shoved off the counter where I’d been leaning. “I’m not doing this with you.”
“Doing what? Talking?”
“I’m going to take a shower,” I said, avoiding his eyes as I made my way out of the kitchen. “Have fun watching your morning porn.”
Tyler chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I will. It was just getting to the good part. You know, balls in mouths and stuff.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Guess that answers my curiosity about whether you’re still a prude or not.”
I flicked him off over my shoulder as I made my way out of the kitchen, and I still heard his laughter even when I was halfway up the stairs. I knew he was joking, I knew he was just trying to get under my skin, to ruffle my feathers.
I also knew that it was working.
And I hated that fact most.
An hour later, I was showered and dressed and crushed in a hug from my Aunt Laura in the middle of Bridgechester’s most popular diner.
“Oh, you beautiful brat,” she cooed as she held me, her hand still on my arms when she pulled back. “It’s been too long.”
“I saw you six months ago when you came to Oakland for Christmas, Al.”
She smiled genuinely at the nickname, just as she always did. It was a shortening of Aunt Laura that I’d given her when I was younger, before I’d even moved in with her.
It seemed like a lifetime ago, now.
“Six months is too long. Especially when you’re growing into a woman the way you are.”
I smiled, shaking my head at her as we took a seat in the booth she’d gotten for us. She already had coffee steaming from her cup and an orange juice waiting for me. “You’ll have to come see me again soon,” I offered.
“Or, you could come here more often,” she rebutted, opening her menu. “If I’d have known it would take a wedding to get you back in Bridgechester, I would have set Morgan up with some poor sap a long time ago.”
We placed our order when the waitress came over — Aunt Laura getting pancakes as usual, while I opted for an egg white omelet. My phone buzzed with a text from Jacob just as our menus were taken away.
Jacob: Well, now that I’m three hours behind you, I feel like even more of a lazy bum. You’ve probably been up for hours and already ran a marathon.