Where We Belong (A Touch of Fate #1)
K.L. Grayson
Writing this book is a dream come true for me, but I absolutely could not have done it without the help of some amazingly wonderful women. Each and every one of you stepped up and offered me your help, advice, expertise, and guidance without batting an eye and I am truly grateful. Alexis Durbin, Nevaeh Lee, Mia Kayla, B.A. Wolfe, Michelle Lynn, Livia Jamerlan, A.L. Zaun, Elisabeth Grace, K. Langston, and Mia Sheridan…thank you—from the bottom of my heart—thank you.
“HOLY SHIT, THAT BURNS!" I crinkle my nose up at the fire the tequila leaves behind.
"*." Quinn laughs, handing me a lemon and popping one in her mouth.
Flipping her off, I swivel in my seat, watching all the sweaty bodies fight for attention on the dance floor. Adam Levine's seductive voice croons through the speakers, and I sway to the beat.
My eyes wander over to the pool table, landing on Ty. Reaching up, he runs his fingers through his shaggy, brown hair and laughs at something someone says. His dimples take root, and his smile lights up his face. I tilt my head to the side, a deep sigh rushing from my lips. Ty.
We're friends.
Best friends.
That's it.
Tyson and I grew up together. Literally. Our mothers have been best friends since the day my family moved in next door. At the ripe age of twelve months, Tyson and I became friends. We not only learned how to walk together, we learned how to do everything together. He was my preschool buddy, my co-conspirator in detention, and he survived my attempts at learning how to drive.
Tonight, we are celebrating because this morning, we graduated from college together. Me, with a degree in nursing, and Ty with his bachelor's in biology—Pre-Med.
Quinn nudges my shoulder. "You love him. You need to tell him or you're going to regret it." She thinks she's helping, but she's not. Some things should just stay the way they are...I think.
"Quinn," I say, raising my glass to the server with a quick nod, letting her know I want another. "It's complicated."
She shakes her head with a sarcastic laugh. "Only because you're making it. Why you two are in the friend zone is beyond me."
The server sets down another round of shots. "Shut up and drink. To friends!" I raise my glass, tap it against hers, and down the shot. I stare at my empty shot glass. My head spins, signaling the beginning of a nice buzz. I wasn't planning on getting drunk tonight, but after the bomb Tyson dropped on me a couple of hours ago, I need this.
Tyson is standing in the doorway to my bedroom, his hands tucked deep in his pockets. He looks off to the side. "Harley, we need to talk." His voice is pained, and he hasn't made a move to come in. I can tell I'm not going to like this. My heart drops into the pit of my stomach because I can feel it in my bones...something is off.
"Okaaaay, shoot." I train my eyes on the suitcase in front of me as I begin to pull out clothes. He reaches for me, but I turn away and stuff some T-shirts in my drawer.
"A lot changes when you go away to college for four years," he says, running his hand down the back of his neck.
"Yes, it can." Opening the closet door, I stare into the dark empty space. "Moving back home is going to take some getting used to. I'm definitely finding a place of my own right after I find a job."
“Brit and I decided not to stay at Wash U for medical school," he blurts. “She wants to be closer to her family." Ty wipes his hands on his jeans and fidgets as he sits on my bed. I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
Ty shifts toward me, reaching for my hand. This time, I don't pull away. "Please look at me, Harley. I want you to understand what I'm saying."
I blow out the breath I didn't know I was holding and stare at my suitcase for a few more seconds before I look up. "Doesn't Brit's family live in New York?"
"They do," he nods, "as soon as she told me she wanted to be near them, we applied to the medical school at Columbia, and we've both been accepted. We, ummm, we leave next week."
"What?" I gasp, jumping up, my eyes nearly popping out of my head. "You can't be serious." My voice rises with each word. "Just like that?" I shake my head, refusing to accept this. "You're just going to up and leave?" I shove a drawer closed harder than I intend, causing the mirror to shake violently. "One week? That's it?" Tears gather in my eyes and I look away, blinking rapidly to keep them at bay.
I will not cry.
I will not cry.
“I’m sorry, Harley," Tyson's voice cracks. “I didn’t know how to tell you." He sighs heavily, dropping his head. “I didn’t want to tell you." His hands shake in his lap, and some of my anger dissipates. The magnetic pull we've always had draws me closer to him. My fingers itch to dive into his hair and pull him against me. To comfort him. To comfort me. Something—anything—to slow down whatever storm he's battling...but . . . I don't.
“Wow," I whisper, sitting on the bed next to him. “I’m not really sure what to say." I look up, and our eyes meet in the mirror. “Is this what you want? I mean, she isn’t pressuring you to do this. Right?”
He shakes his head slowly. “No, she isn't." I reach over and grab his hand, entwining my fingers with his, and he squeezes his eyes shut with the contact. “She’s my future, Harley," he says, looking up. "This is my future. Please tell me you understand." He clutches my hand, a silent plea for me to accept the path he’s chosen.