Make Me Hate You(69)

“But then I think of a time we shared together, of a night we stayed up too late or a day we wasted hours making up a music video to our favorite song, or a week lost in the sun by the lake during a summer when time didn’t have limitations the way it does now. And it’s then that I know even if I had the choice, I’d still go back and sit with you, and I’d still spend every waking hour with you and Morgan.” I paused. “And I’d still lean into your kiss that day my mom left, when I went looking for Morgan and found you, instead.”

Tyler blew out a slow, long breath, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“I know this isn’t right,” I continued. “I know we shouldn’t have done what we did. And maybe I shouldn’t have said what I said last night, either. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying all of this that I’m saying to you now.” I turned a little in my seat then, so I could face him fully, begging him to return my gaze. “But it doesn’t matter if it’s right or wrong. This is how I feel.”

Tyler swallowed, his neck straining with the motion.

“I want you, Tyler,” I whispered through the tears building, and at the words, his mouth parted, his chest depressing with the trembling breath. “I always have, and I always will. I’ve tried to forget you, and I know now that there is no amount of time or distance I can put between us that will ever allow me to. I am yours,” I said, and I felt so bold with the truth on my lips that I reached for him, wrapping my hand around his on the steering wheel until he let me pull it free. I held it between mine, his elbow balanced on the center console between us, and he kept his gaze forward while I lowered my lips to his fingers and closed my eyes. “Whether you claim me or not, I am yours.”

A single tear slipped down his cheek when I opened my eyes to look at him again, but he wouldn’t blink to set another free. He just looked straight ahead, his eyes tired, his jaw set.

“I know I am not in the position to ask anything of you, not after I took what I thought was the righteous route and insisted that what we had done was wrong. I pushed you away the morning after you’d pulled me in. I felt it in my heart that Azra was the one for you, that your family loved her, that you loved her, and I couldn’t step in the middle of that.” I paused, heart squeezing with the admission. “But I’m asking you now.”

I reached for his chin, running my fingers over the slight stubble there until he finally turned to face me. His nostrils flared when our eyes locked, two more tears freeing themselves, and his chest heaving at the touch.

“If you feel anything for me, Tyler,” I whispered, searching his eyes. “If you love me, too — don’t let me get on this plane.”

A thick swallow found his throat again, and his eyes washed over me, taking me in, drinking my words. I saw a million things in that gaze of his, felt a thousand lifetimes of us warring with that truth I’d just spilled between us. He and I, we weren’t just here and now. We were the past, the present, the future. We were other worlds and other universes, too.

No matter what we did, it would always come back to this.

Every molecule of my being was tied up in that moment, in the request that hung between us on a delicate wire. I held his hand between mine, watching, waiting, wishing.

His hand squeezed mine, and I inhaled a deep, shaky breath at the contact, leaning into it.

But in the next breath, he released me completely, taking his shaky hands back to the wheel and his gaze back to the windshield.

I didn’t miss the way his throat constricted, the way his nose flared, the way his lips were pressed together so tight that little lines formed around them.

And I didn’t miss that I had made my choice, and this — him turning away from me?

This was him making his.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, staring at his profile, wondering if I’d imagined the whole thing. Did he hear me? Had he listened to the words I said? How could he not fold into me right now, tell me he loves me, too, swear off everyone and everything for us?

But the moment was very real, and I nodded, understanding even if I hated it.

Without another word, I pulled the handle on my door, kicking it open and snatching my purse off the floor. In the next second I was around the back, releasing the latch of the truck bed and heaving my suitcase and duffle bag out.

Tyler didn’t get out to help me, and I didn’t look at him again.

I knew I never would.

But I’d left everything in that car, exposed every yearning that threaded through my heart, that heart that beat only for him.

So when the plane lifted off the tarmac and carried me west, I didn’t shed another tear.

I smiled for what we had.

And I promised myself to let go of what we never would.





Two Weeks Later



Me: And that’s what I think so many people miss, Tara, is that we spend so much time trying to be what we think everyone else wants us to be, that we stop asking ourselves what we actually want. Who do we want to be? What passions and hobbies do we actually enjoy? What is most important to us in life?

Tara: Exactly. And then we get to this point in our late twenties or so where we look around at the life we’ve built and we almost feel like… a spectator? More than the person living it. We’re like, “Wait… who are these people? Why am I always prioritizing getting blackout drunk at brunch over hiking or something productive?”