“I’ll bet you are,” Tyler remarks dryly. “She’s having a good time, though.”
I can tell he’s annoyed at me for making him talk to Dean, but we have no choice. Dean can’t find out yet, especially while we’re on opposite coasts, and I know I need to handle this face to face. In a way, it feels like we’re lying to him right now, but the only option we have is to make everything seem okay, even when it’s not. It would tear Dean apart if he were to find out like this, through a video call while we’re three thousand miles away, so we’re forced into being deceptive, and although it’s unbelievably difficult, it’s for Dean’s sake. I don’t know how we’ll tell him. I don’t know what we’re supposed to say, but I do know that we still have three weeks to figure it out. We’ll fix this. We’ll be honest and sincere, we’ll explain ourselves, and we’ll do it right. Dean deserves that at least.
Tyler settles down next to me on the couch, his body close against mine as he holds my phone up high in front of us, attempting to squeeze us both into the frame. For ten minutes, we tell Dean all about New York and how amazing the Italian food tastes over here, and he fills us in on all the latest drama back in Santa Monica. Some girl who was in my grade is engaged to a guy a decade older than her. Some guy who was in Dean’s US History class is now in jail for sexual assault. Thankfully, Dean ends up having to leave for work and by the time we’ve ended the video call, Tyler’s collapsing back against the couch in a heap.
“We are officially going to hell,” he groans. All I can do is sigh next to him, feeling nothing but guilt and shame. Dean doesn’t deserve any of this. After a second, Tyler sits up and leans forward to glance sideways at me. “This is gonna kill him. There’s no way around it. We just have to be straight-up with him and accept the fact we’ve really messed up. When are we gonna tell him?”
“As soon as we get home. We can’t wait any longer,” I say. I can’t look at him. I’m resting my elbows on my knees, hunched over slightly as I hold my face in my hands. “It’s unfair on him.”
Tyler’s voice is solemn and quiet. “You think he’ll ever forgive us?”
“I think he will eventually,” I murmur. I won’t blame him if he doesn’t, but I like to hope that one day he will. It’s Dean. Our Dean. He’s never held a grudge against anyone in his entire life.
“God, I’m a shit excuse for a best friend,” Tyler mutters.
“And I’m an even shittier excuse for a girlfriend,” I add. It’s gonna be hard to tell him. It’s like he’s losing both his girlfriend and his best friend at the exact same time. Betrayed by both.
Out of nowhere, Tyler moves his hand to my thigh. “Eden,” he says, “does this mean you’re really choosing me?”
The suddenness of his question doesn’t take me by surprise. Instead, his words sink in slowly as I breathe. Feeling calm, I finally look back at him only to discover that he’s staring at me with wide, dull green eyes. He looks almost worried, as though I’m going to say no. “I was always going to choose you,” I whisper.
I can see the relief in his eyes, despite the fact that his features don’t shift in the slightest. His gaze only grows more intense. “And what does choosing me mean?”
“You know what it means, Tyler.” I reach for his hand on my thigh, lifting it and interlocking it with my own, our fingers intertwining. Perfectly. The way it should be. The way it always has been. “It means I want to be with you.” My voice is strong. I’m not nervous. I’m not doubtful. I’m content with knowing that I’m saying nothing but the truth. “Like, seriously.”
Tyler’s holding back a smile as he tries to remain serious, but it doesn’t stop me from seeing the way his eyes are lighting up at my words. “You know we’re gonna have to tell our parents, right?”
“I know,” I say. Once more, I sigh. A long sigh. A sigh I’ve been holding in for two years. Telling our parents is the most terrifying thing about all of this, and it seems like the time for it is growing closer and closer. It’ll be a relief to get it over with. “I’m ready to.”
“And you’re definitely not gonna give up again?” Tyler asks immediately, squeezing my hand in his, expression shifting. His words are fast and enthusiastic as he speaks. “You’re not gonna change your mind when the time comes?”
“Tyler,” I say firmly. “I’m going through with this if you are.” My lips pulling up into a smile, I say, “No te rindas.” Tyler’s words from the roof on my first night in the city. The words he scribbled along the Chucks he bought me. The words that have such a simple yet significant meaning: Don’t give up.
In that moment, Tyler gives a wide grin, his eyes smoldering, teeth sparkling, jaw sharp, positive vibe radiating from him. “Thank God you didn’t.”
17