Page 25 of Falling Again

Can’t wait

TEN

TYLER

THEN

There are a few sounds that, the moment I hear them, bring a wide smile to my face. The crack of a baseball as it makes contact with my bat. The first strum my fingers make as they glide down the strings of an acoustic guitar. And finally, the laugh my girlfriend lets out when I tell her a dumb joke. The last one is my favorite. Rachel is a tall goddess with sleek brown hair that reaches the small of her back. She’s out of my league entirely, and I don’t know why she chooses to stick around with me. She could probably date anyone at our school.

Not that I’m not confident in myself, but she’s got all the popular girl accolades. Cheerleader, prom queen, honor student, etc. Last year, she starred in the annual play. She’s not even in drama club. I’m a bit more reserved. I enjoy playing on my varsity baseball team, getting decent grades, and having a small circle of friends. Rachel and I have been dating for six months—the longest relationship I’ve ever had—and I desperately don’t want to screw it up. I hold my breath every time I read a message from her because I fear it’s the one. The one message where she’s going to end it all. I worry that she’s going to wake up and realize who she’s dating, but she always seems to prove me wrong.

Last week, she told me she loved me, and I nearly asked her to marry me on the spot. I know she’s too good for me, so I planned the most romantic six-month anniversary date. My mom suggested I have it at the ranch and that she and my dad would go out on a date so we’d have it to ourselves. My dad agreed reluctantly since he lives and breathes the ranch. He always says, “Why go somewhere else when I have all my favorite things here at home?” But somehow, my mom convinced him to go out to dinner and a movie.

Before they left, my dad walked into my room and set down a box of condoms, then left without uttering a word. My face felt like it was going to burn off. Yes, that’s usually what happens when Rachel and I get together, which is why I bought my own box. However, the fact that my parents are aware of it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

I pull a forest-green Henley over my head and slip on a pair of freshly ironed black slacks. Rachel always compliments my hair when I wear this shirt around her. I slip on my usual glasses and a pair of my leather boots before leaving to pick her up. It feels a bit strange leaving my house only to bring her back, but I’ve decorated the back porch to be as romantic as possible for our anniversary. I peeked at a collage she made for the front of her binder as inspiration. My mom helped me hang twinkly lights around the porch posts, and I nearly bought out the roses at the flower shop so I could sprinkle petals around the area.

I even learned how to make filet mignon after watching countless cooking videos, as well as a crème brûlée, which Rachel had said she had always wanted to try. I thought tirelessly about every detail, and I was on pins and needles for her to see it all.

Her house is at the base of the hill across town, so it takes me a bit to get there, which only adds to the nervous pit in my stomach. Rachel’s family lives in the only gated neighborhood in Auburn Hills. By this point, the guy working the gate knows me and lets me through as soon as he sees my mom’s car. I usually opt to borrow my dad’s work truck, but I figured my mom’s smaller sedan is more romantic. Walking up to her massive house, a part of me wants to turn around and go back home without her. I am unsure why the feeling overcomes me, but I manage to push through it.

I take a breath and knock on the door, which flies open. There stands my beautiful girlfriend. She’s wearing a knee-length maroon dress that skims her body like a breeze.

“Hey, gorgeous,” I say and hand her a single rose.

She takes it and gives it a sniff before looking up at me with a reserved smile.

“You ready?” I ask.

“Yep, where are we heading?” she asks as I open the passenger door for her.

Once I slide onto my seat, I say, “Back to where I came from.” I laugh at my joke, but stop when I look at her.

“I don’t get it,” she says, raising her eyebrow and then pulling out her phone to scroll through some apps.

“I’m taking you back to my place.”

She puts her phone down dramatically. “Ugh, Tyler, I thought we were going somewhere special? We go to your house all the time.”

“Just trust me, it won’t be like all the other times,” I say, trying to reassure her, but I only get an eye roll in response. We drive the rest of the way to my house in silence, and the pit in my stomach hasn’t cleared completely.

I pull up, and from the front, you can’t see any of the romantic details I added to the back porch, and I’m immediately kicking myself. In my peripheral vision, I can see Rachel looking at me with an unamused expression.

“It looks the same to me,” she says, opening the door herself to get out. I unlock the front door for us and lead her inside.

“Just wait,” I say, taking her hand as I lead her around the corner of the foyer to the kitchen. The room is bathed in a soft, romantic glow from the several candles I lit before leaving. I smile at the work I’ve done and look over at Rachel. She honestly looks like she’s about to vomit.

“Are you okay? Do you want some water?” I ask.

“No, no. I’m fine. This is really nice, Tyler.” Rachel says, giving me a reassuring smile. I lead her out to the back porch, where soft acoustic covers of popular songs are playing from the speakers, and the lights are twinkling, with rose petals fluttering softly in the breeze.

“Surprise!” I say, turning toward her, expecting her face to light up. Rachel takes it all in and looks at me with a soft smile.

“Really great, Tyler. I love it. Maybe we can go somewhere after,” she says.

“After? I have a whole night planned here.”

“It’s just—it doesn’t really feel special to me. You didn’t even ask me what I wanted to do for our anniversary,” she exclaims and sits down in one of the patio chairs.