“Hey.” I smile nervously.
His head tilts. “What’s up?”
“I got into Great Lakes.” A little pride blooms in my chest.
“Holy shit! Congrats, Butler!” Ty moves to hug me, but there’s an awkward beat between us.
Since everything went down, our friendship has remained firmly intact, but I needed some time before I could worry about anything else. He’s been really understanding, and mostly, we’ve just been pretending it didn’t happen. Until we get too close, and we’re both painfully aware.
We’re still not touching, but this time, I take in his proximity greedily. He’s wearing an olive green hoodie, with shorts and black socks. I have the strangest urge to press my face against the cotton of the sweatshirt. I’ve missed him.
“That’s so awesome. Looks like we won’t be too far from each other, then.”
“I think it’s two hours to Chicago.” Two hours and eleven minutes.
“Yeah, I think so too.”
“But it’s not why I came.”
“Okay.”
“I sort of thought we should talk.”
“Now?”
“No time like the present,” I joke.
“Okay.”
“Well, first of all, I’ve been the worst friend ever.”
“Nah.” He teases.
“No, I have. And I’m really sorry for it.”
He shrugs. “I told you, friends don’t keep score.”
“Well, I kept score. And I lost. And I’m ready to start over.”
His brows furrow. “Start over?”
“I mean…Well, I think I sort of jumped the gun,” I admit.
“What?”
“I just…” I’m so nervous, and I can’t stop smiling. “I feel like if this amazing, totally unlikely thing can happen, and I actually got into Great Lakes, then other good things can happen too, right?”
“Okay…” His voice is tentative, following along.
I’m just going to say it. “The kiss…,” I add sheepishly. “Kisses? Whatever.” I shake my head, embarrassed. “I mean, there’s something here. Between us.” I don’t phrase it like a question, but I still find myself looking to him for an answer.
He nods without breaking my gaze.
I exhale in relief.
I’ve been thinking about this so much. Wondering if I could take any more risks after all the things that have gone wrong over the last year. But I’ve realized, slowly and deeply, that Tyler is a safe place for me. And I can only hope he feels the same.
“Do you remember when I told you what Remy said? Junior year. About how I’m afraid of losing people I care about, so I don’t take enough chances?” I don’t want to say Braden’s name, not right now, but I think he’ll get it.
He leans into the doorframe. “I remember.”
“Well. She was right. But I don’t want her to be right anymore.” I force myself to look at him while I speak. “And when we were together, the thing I remember the most is being surprised. By my own feelings, I mean. Which…they were obviously there. But I really didn’t know before then. And I think, maybe, it was because I was afraid to admit them. Because you’re not just any guy, Ty. You’re, like, one of my favorite people. Ever.”
“Yeah?” His lips curve.
“Yeah.” I nod.
Memories flood my mind. Ty listens and he shows up. He has faith in my strength in a way I’m only just learning to match. And since the first day we met, we’ve always had each other’s backs. Tyler isn’t going to sneak around or lie. He’s not going to drive too fast, or go at the count of two when he told me he’d get to three. I’m safe here, with him. And I deserve to feel this kind of affection, the kind that doesn’t hurt, that doesn’t come at such a high cost. And so does he.
But it’s not that simple.
I take a deep breath and say the hard part. “But the thing is, Ty, as much as I wish I were…I’m just not sure if I’m ready. Not yet.”
His eyes are thoughtful as he shakes his head. “I didn’t ask you to be.”
“I know. I totally know. You’ve been super understanding, like, more than I could ever ask for. But I was just getting to my more important point.”
“Okay.” His voice holds a question.
“So maybe I’m not ready. But I don’t want to close that door either.”
“What?” He looks hopeful but confused.
“Well, like…I know we’re going to different schools in the fall. And I know there are lots of reasons why this could be a mess. It kind of already is. But just…I’d like to keep the door open. Like maybe not walk through it yet. Or maybe never, if you don’t want to. I’m not going to assume you’ll wait around for me. But I’d like it to be open, if you want it to be.”
“The door?”
“Yeah. The door.” The absurdity of it all is nearly making me lose my train of thought.
“We’re not really talking about a door, are we?”
“Am I totally sucking at this?”
I think he’s enjoying my nervousness. “No. You’re not. I get it, I think. And I’d like to keep the door open too. See what…um, happens to it.”
Relief courses through me. “Okay. Whew. Great. ’Cause I have sort of an open-door question.”
He lifts his chin. “Yeah?”
“Um. Yeah.” I swallow. My heartbeat accelerates. “I was sort of wondering if you had any plans for prom.”
He bites his grin into his mouth. “Well, Lauren Brooks asked me last week.”
“The clarinet player?” I say it like clarinet is the dirtiest word I know. “In March? You’ve already been asked to prom in freaking March.”
“Yeah, she plays the clarinet.” His eyes are teasing. “And yeah. To the other part too.”
“Did she ask you in some cutesy way?”
“She put a sign on my chair in band.”
“What did it say?”
He battles with his smile. “ ‘I know we can make music together, but can we dance?’ ”
Ugh. I’m too nervous to laugh. “And?”
He doesn’t answer for a minute; just looks at me. An eternity later, he says, “I thanked her, but told her I was hoping to go with somebody else.”
“Somebody else?” I ask breathlessly.
He shrugs. “You kind of sounded like you were leading up to something.”
“Yeah. But I didn’t know I needed a sign.”
“You don’t need a sign, Hadley.”
I gather all my remaining nerves and take a leap of faith. “Well, do you want to?” I can feel my heartbeat in my throat.
“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you’re asking. Do I want to…?” His face moves into phony confusion.
A ball of nerves explodes in my stomach. “Ugh, Ty! Do you want to go to freaking prom with me?”
“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He pauses. “Yeah, Hads. I would like that.”
“You are the worst, you know that?”
“I thought you were the terrible friend.”
I swat his shoulder. “You didn’t have to make that so hard.”
“ ’Cause you’ve made this whole thing a real breeze for me.”
“All right. Fair.” I exhale a million pounds of worry, of expectations, of all the things it took to get to this moment. “But okay. Cool. We’re going to do the prom thing.”
He laughs quietly. “Yeah. We are.”
“Okay. Well. Now that that’s over, I have one last thing.”
“More?” he says incredulously.
“Do you want to go for a drive?” I nod to the Jeep. “I kind of miss hanging out with you. And I made a playlist.” I’ve been working on it for a while, compiling every song that explained how I felt about him, in words I was too afr
aid to use myself. I might not be ready to make any actual decisions, but being honest felt like a good place to start.
“You made a playlist?”
I nod.
His amber eyes are sparking. “Where’d you find these songs? What’s in store for me?”
“Are you coming or not?”
“Oh, I’m coming.”
“All right, let’s go.”
And as we walk, shoulder to shoulder, I look up at the evening sky. Half of it is glowing with low yellow and pink sunlight, and the other is darkened by heavy rain clouds. I unlock the car, get in, and plug the aux cord into my phone.
I turn to Ty. “No peeking. Just listening.”
“Got it.” He moves my camera out of the way and leans back in the passenger seat.
The music fills the space between us, and I roll the windows down to the let wind comb through my short hair. And as I drive, with no destination in mind, I feel like the sky: full of both darkness and light. It will probably be clumsy, and definitely flawed, but I can handle it—whatever life throws at me—rain or shine.
And when I look over at Tyler, he lifts my camera and snaps a shot of me, frozen forever in this perfect moment of hopeful uncertainty.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book has been years in the making, so bear with me as I try to express my major gratitude.
First, I’m so thankful for my agents, Garrett Alwert and Mandy Hubbard. I’m the luckiest writer to have this incredible team supporting me. From signing, to revision, to submission, to landing me at my dream publisher, I’m endlessly grateful for your hard work and support.
Audrey Ingerson, my editor, you saw the heart of this story and helped me bring it to the page. Your notes were astute and thoughtful, and they kept me up all night trying to figure out how I could get to your level. I am so thankful that my first book was in your capable hands. I’m also grateful to Wendy Loggia and Alison Romig, who stepped in after Audrey’s departure and helped this book make it out into the world. Thank you.
I’d like to thank Random House Children’s Books, and specifically Delacorte Press. Thank you to Beverly Horowitz, for leading this team, which has taken such good care of me. Thank you to Casey Moses, the cover designer; Pedro Tapa, the illustrator of my gorgeous cover; and Alison Impey, the YA art director. For interior design, thank you to Trish Parcell and Stephanie Moss. Thank you to the copyeditors, Colleen Fellingham and Alison Kolani. The managing editor, Tamar Schwartz, and the production manager, Jonathan Morris, thank you! I have admired Delacorte Press books for years and years, and I’m still pinching myself that I’m being published at your imprint.
I’d also like to thank my early readers/editors, Corey Ann Haydu, Jill Dembowski, Debby Duvall, and Kerry Kletter. This book would never have found representation or a home without you. Kerry, you were the first person in the industry to tell me I could do this, and I’ll never forget your encouragement.
To my friend Paul Young, thank you for patiently answering all my questions about high school swimming, even if it was after midnight at a bar in Brooklyn.
I want to thank the Tyndall-Schultz family, my in-laws, for their support, cards, and bottles of bubbles throughout this long process.
To my best girls/Ace Gang/friends with the Hearts of Gold: Angela, Lia, Susan, Casey, Laura, Danielle, Jeanette, Trish, Caroline, and Andrea. Having all of you in my life is an embarrassment of riches. Thank you for being women who root for and support one another. I can’t imagine my life without you.
To my family, thank you for living the real version of this story with me.
Alex, in one of my biggest moments of self-doubt, you admitted that this story made you shed a tear—which I took as the biggest compliment in the world. In my gratitude, I will now tell everybody about your crybaby tendencies. Love you.
Allie, I’m not even sure how to thank you. You’ve read more versions of this story than anybody. You’re the first person I go to with every new idea, because I know you’ll always tell me the truth. Thank you, thank you, thank you forever. Hadley and I both have wonderful sisters, but mine is better.
Dad, this book wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t shown me what I’m made of. Nobody pushes me harder or believes in me more than you do. Thank you for your willingness to be my teacher, even when I’m a resentful, stubborn student. I’m so lucky to have you.
Mom, just typing those three letters is making me cry. Thank you for always picking up your phone, even when I’ve already called you three times that day. Thank you for listening to every worry and sharing every joy. Thank you for being the light in even the darkest situations. Thank you for inspiring this story.
To my husband, Matt: you always believed I could do this, even at the very beginning, when we were looking up at what felt like an impossible mountain to climb. Thank you for supporting me while I did it, even when it took longer than we imagined. The only thing that has ever made me happier than getting this book published was marrying you. I’d do it again and again and again. I love you.
The last thing that I want to say is that this story is a piece of my heart. I spent years drawing it out, trying to get the words just right. It started as pages from my high school journal, and now, somehow, it’s a real book. And I want to say that I’m grateful for that sixteen-year-old girl who was brave enough to write down all the ways she hurt, and that she was able to take some of the hardest moments of her life and turn them into my proudest accomplishment. It’s been an emotional, wild ride. But we made it.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
NICOLE B. TYNDALL grew up in a small town in Michigan and lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband, Matt. She graduated from Grand Valley State University with a bachelor’s degree in art history and a minor in philosophy and French. Coming Up for Air is her debut novel.
Visit Nicole online at nicolebtyndall.com and follow her on Twitter and Instagram at @nicolebtyndall.
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