Mess To Be Made

47

"I thought you said this was going to be casual," I uttered, glancing in Tyler's rearview mirror at the sparkling copper arches of the Golden Gate Bridge, blending seamlessly into the orange sky as they retreated further into the background with each passing second.

He threw me a look with a tilt of his head, brow furrowed and chin tucked. God, he was cute.

I gestured to road in front of us, littered with swerving cars and framed by a glittering skyline that began to illuminate as day turned to dusk. "A Saturday night out in the city doesn't seem very casual?"

I was no dating expert—I could count the number of actual dates I'd been on on one hand. But going into the city on a Saturday night for a first date seemed anything but casual. This wasn't a movie at the local mall or dinner in town. Something like this took planning. Thought.

Yet he'd asked me out only 24 hours ago.

After Tristan walked into his son's bedroom last night—seeing me there for the third time that week, with wild hair and a wrinkled shirt—he insisted I have dinner with them. And what I thought was going to be an awkward meal turned out to be quite nice. Tristan warmed up to me faster than I expected—faster than most, at least. Though once we began clearing the table having finished our food, he made his paternal intentions clear with a sharp smile and warning eyes. "Tyler, why don't you walk Allie home."

"He hates me," I groaned, lolling my head against Tyler's chest as we inched our way across the street, side by side with his arm snaked around my waist to keep me close amid the evening chill. We took our time, walking at an almost uncomfortably slow pace. An unspoken agreement to savor each other's company in whatever way we could, while we could.

"He doesn't hate you." Tyler's voice came out raspy, like he was annoyed by my shameless dramatics. However, I didn't miss how he soothingly slipped his finger underneath the hem of my shirt, running it along my skin reassuringly. I found my knees buckling into themselves in response. "He just doesn't want me getting distracted."

"Shame." I craned my neck back to peer up at him, the edge of his jawline concealing part of the twilight sky above. I swallowed the smile treading across my lips. "Distracting is one of my best talents."

A pair of hazel orbs replaced my view of the smoldering stars. They glimmered a sheen of grey in the darkening sky and his breath was warm as it fanned across my hairline. "Yeah, I have a feeling he can sense that."

Before I could respond, his lips pressed against my forehead and somehow, the simple, innocent act had my heart racing and my throat clogged shut.

In silence, we finished the short trek between our two houses. I reluctantly unwrapped myself from his web of limbs so we stood just far enough apart to squarely face one another.

I wanted to ask him to come inside. To hang out with me.

To stay with me.

I already knew the answer though. Tristan was expecting him. So instead, I waited for his goodbye.

Surprising wasn't an adjective I ever thought I would use for Tyler. For months I'd come to find that he was painfully predictable in his ill attitude, blank expressions, guarded actions, and wary words.

But the past week, I found myself constantly surprised by him. He was confident but vigilant, cagey but intentional. I'd never met someone who could be so assured, yet so cautious at the same time. It was enthralling and confusing to no end.

So I was caught completely off guard when his lids lowered to his feet, nerves rippling across his cheeks as they flushed. "Are you busy tomorrow night?"