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“You should come over. My mom’s out of town, and I was thinking about having a game night.”
Taylor had been avoiding Belly’s house since The Incident.
Ever since that past summer, ever since she all but declared her love for Steven for him to tell her kissing her was a mistake… yeah, she had no desire to revisit that little blip from her past. She had mostly gotten over him, anyway. Mostly. It was easier when she wasn’t around him, which was good because she went out of her way to never be around him.
School was harder. When the summer ended and they returned to school, that first week, she saw him everywhere. At first, she thought the universe was trying to tell her something, the way their paths kept on crossing. But Taylor knew that was her naivety, that same wishful thinking that convinced her it was safe to give Steven her heart. So she learned his schedule and then carefully avoided him, took a longer route to class when she had to to make sure she wouldn’t have to see him nine times a day.
It worked, for the most part. She nearly forgot about him, could pretend that that whole Incident was just a nightmare she definitely 100% woke up from. It was only as real as she let it be. It only had power over her if she let it.
And she did not let Steven have anything over her.
Belly was great about it. She knew about Taylor’s… misfortune, and she did her best to steer clear of bringing him up, which suited Taylor just fine. Besides, Belly had Conrad, so most of her topics of conversation were around him - all the high highs and the low lows that came with their relationship. Admittedly, Taylor was happy for the distraction, even though sometimes she thought her friend deserved better.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Taylor replied nonchalantly, twirling her straw around in her smoothie, refusing to meet Belly’s eyes. The noncommittal “I don’t know” was the best she could do.
“Come on, Taylor! It’s been so long,” Belly pleaded with her. “Conrad and Jeremiah are both gonna drive down from Boston, and it wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Taking her straw out and putting it back in absent-mindedly, Taylor considered her options. Belly was a great friend to her, had been there for her through so much… but the idea of being around anything that resembled Steven was not that appealing.
“It’s been six months, Taylor.” Belly spoke softly, not wanting to hurt her friend. “You can’t keep running away. Besides, he won’t even be there.”
What Belly didn’t mention, of course, was that Steven was going to be in New York, visiting his new girlfriend. Belly hadn’t met her yet, but Steven had talked about her a few times. Apparently, she was English, living in New York City, and the two had met through Jeremiah. But she didn’t find that information particularly pertinent to Taylor. It was best to leave that alone.
Taking a deep breath, Taylor sighed, before reaching out and squeezing her best friend’s hand, “You’re right, Belly Bells. I’ll be there.” What she did not mention, though she was pretty sure was implied, was “because he’s not.”
~
On her way to Belly’s house, Taylor nearly turned back twice, spending way too much time on her hair, then her outfit, then on the quarter-mile trek, but finally, she made it. Still, standing on the porch, she could not bring herself to ring the doorbell.
Taylor's heart raced as she stood outside Belly's house. She hadn't been here in months, not since last summer. Not since that kiss with Belly's older brother and the disastrous fallout. Steven had been so casual about it, brushing it off like it meant nothing, but Taylor? She'd been crushed. Avoiding Belly, her best friend, had been collateral damage she regretted every day since.
Taking a deep breath, she reached out and hit the button.
"Taylor! You're here!" Belly beamed as she opened the door, pulling her into a hug.
“I’m here!” Taylor replied, doing her best to match her enthusiasm and accepting her hug. “So… what game are we playing?”
“Conrad’s just picking up the pizza now,” Belly told her, leading her into the living room. “But everyone else is in the living room. You checked your texts, right?”
“No but… Everyone else?” Taylor asked, following Belly. “Isn’t it just Jermeiah?”
Belly had promised Steven wouldn't be there tonight. She'd even said it would be just her, Conrad, Jeremiah, and some board games. That was enough to get Taylor to agree to game night. But when she stepped through into the living room and saw him sitting on the floor with his arm slung casually around a very pretty girl, her stomach twisted. Taylor stopped in her tracks as she stood in the living room, frozen in place as she caught sight of Steven,
For a brief second, Taylor was staring open-mouthed at Steven, as if she had just seen a ghost, her entire body rigid.
Taylor hesitated. She wanted to bolt, but Belly came running over, oblivious to the knot of tension forming.
Belly’s heart sank with the realization that perhaps Taylor was not as over Steven as she had initially thought. She had no idea Steven would change his plans. She would have never lured Taylor here if she knew. Still, she felt astronomically guilty that she didn’t give her best friend a heads-up phone call.
Taylor forced a smile, her eyes flicking to Steven, who had just noticed her too. For a split second, something unreadable crossed his face before he returned to his usual, laid-back self.
"Hey Tay-Tay," Steven said, grinning lazily at her in a way that almost certainly did not make her heart stop beating. "Long time no see."
"Yeah," Taylor managed to get out without stuttering, forcing herself to meet his eyes and then quickly looking away. Her throat felt tight. She wanted to disappear. “Where’s Jeremy?”
“Right hee!” he emerged from the bathroom, wrapping her in his arms and lifting her into the air. “Thank goodness you’re here! I was going crazy surrounded by all these couples!”
“Couples?” Taylor swallowed, and it felt like there was glass in her throat.
“Yeah! Bells and Con, of course, but did you meet Shayla? I introduced them.” Jeremiah puffed his chest, not realizing the daggers his words were putting through Taylor’s heart.
“No,” Taylor turned back to the girl sitting behind the coffee table. “Hi, I’m Taylor.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Shayla replied, unfailingly polite, and Taylor wanted nothing more than to hate her. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“All good things, I hope,” Taylor tried to joke, but the words came off sour. She tried to glare at Belly, but her best friend refused to meet her eyes.
“Let’s play a game!” Jeremiah suggested, either immune to the awkward tension in the room or in spite of it. “Do you have Codenames?”
“How about Cards Against Humanity?” Belly suggested, finally looking directly at Taylor.
“That’s a good game,” Taylor couldn’t help but mutter. Despite the fact that she wanted with every fiber of her being to escape, she did not want to give Steven that power over her. Besides, Belly knew it was her favorite game. Taylor was super competitive at board games and hated to lose, and she never lost at Cards Against Humanity.
Steven was now staring up at Taylor from his spot on the floor, his eyes adjusting. He hadn’t seen her in so long, even at school, not even a glance across the hallway. It was almost surreal, seeing her in person again. She looked the same for the most part minus a few small things, her hair longer and lighter. But she seemed different, more reserved, perhaps, like her whole persona was a mystery to him now. When did he stop knowing Taylor? It felt like forever since he had sparred with her in his kitchen over something as stupid as the weather.
“What’d I walk into?” Conrad asked, standing in the doorframe holding a few boxes of pizza. His eyes focused on Steven watching Taylor, but he said nothing about it. “Why is it so quiet?”
Belly could not help but grin at her boyfriend. “We’re just about to play a game. Join us!”
~
It had been an hour since they had started, but they were still only on round six due to Steven and Taylor fighting on every turn. It would have been entertaining, if not for it having gotten old a few rounds ago.
The black card stated: “In a world ravaged by ____, our only solace is ____.”
Jeremiah, as Card Czar, watched as everyone focused on their cards. He tended not to take anything - especially not board games - too seriously. It was just nice to enjoy time with his friends.
Steven, as always, put his cards down last, having considered every possible scenario.
Jeremiah looked away, shuffling the sets of cards before flipping the first set of cards over. “In a world ravaged by… the Great Depression, our only solace is… Kanye West.”
Belly giggled, “That’s pretty good.”
“In a world ravaged by… global warming, our only solace is… a really cool hat.”
Shayla shrugged, a small smile on her face. ‘Fashion saves the day! I believe it!”
“In a world ravaged by… rabies, our only solace is… puppies!”
“Uck,” Taylor made a face. “That’s just cruel.”
“In a world ravaged by… a zombie apocalypse, our only solace is… eating the last known bison.”
Shaking his head, Steven smirked, “Dark, but fitting.”
“In a world ravaged by… the hiccups, our only solace is… Arnold Schwarzenegger.”
Conrad, in a terrible Arnold Schwarzenegger impression, imitated, “I’ll be back… to cure your hiccups.”
Belly burst into laughter, and Conrad wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her into him from their spot on the couch.
“In a world ravaged by… memes, our only solace is… grandma’s secret recipe.”
Belly shrugged. “That one’s got my vote!”
Jeremiah thought this through. “These are all good, but I have to go with… “the hiccups” and “Arnold Schwarzenegger.”
“Yes! I knew Arnold would win it for me!” Taylor cheered, reaching over to collect another winning card.
“What!” Steven demanded. “Jere, come on! You’re just biased because you love ‘The Terminator’, but…”
“It’s called ‘knowing your audience’, Steven. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass, you’d learn something!”
“Rich coming from you, Taylor. Where’d you learn who Arnold was? TikTok?”
“Just because you’re gunning for valedictorian doesn’t make you the smartest man on earth, Steven. You’re actually just a 17 year old asshole.”
“You know, I may not have seen you for a while Taylor, but you definitely got more charming. It’s no wonder you still don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Oh, fuck off, Steven.”
“Good one, Tay-Tay.” He put his hand on his heart, mockingly. “That really cut me deep.”
“Ugh, whatever. Let’s just play next round or something before Steven bores us to death with his lectures on how much smarter he is than anyone else.”
“At least you finally admit it!”
The night dragged on with the kind of forced casualness that only heightened the awkwardness. Steven, as always, acted like nothing was wrong, cracking jokes and making the room laugh. Taylor, on the other hand, sat stiffly, trying not to make eye contact with him or, more importantly, with Shayla, who had been quietly observing her all night.
At one point, Taylor excused herself and went to the kitchen for a breather. She stared at the sink, gripping the edge of the counter, willing herself to hold it together before returning back out for the next round.
They bickered—light-hearted to everyone else, but every word between them was laced with tension. At one point, Steven had teased her about being two cards behind him. She fired back, sharper than she intended.
"Maybe you're so unbearable because you’re overcompensating for something," she snapped. “Unhappiness in life, maybe? Grappling with your mistakes?”
The word ‘mistake’ shot out of her without thinking, but she cou;dn’t take it back. If she did, he’d know.
Steven raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. Conrad glanced between them, clearly confused by the undercurrent of tension, but no one else seemed to notice.
Finally, Belly had enough.
“Let’s watch a movie,” she suggested, tired of the fighting. She had thought that after a few rounds of the game, Taylor and Steven would be done coming at each other’s throats, but it seemed that they had unlimited energy for that. She turned towards her brother. “I’m sure Laurel wouldn’t mind if we drank a few bottles of wine, do you agree?”
“I think she’d encourage it, actually,” Steven informed his sister.
Belly smiled. “I can grab them from the basement.”
“Let me help you,” Taylor insisted.
“Why don’t you grab glasses from the kitchen?” Belly countered instead, not willing to be alone with Taylor. She knew that Taylor was going to rip into her, and she did not want that to ruin her night. After all, this would be the first time she and Conrad ever had a sleepover.
Taylor forced a smile, clearly aware of what Belly was doing but unwilling to cause a scene.
“I’ll help you,” Shayla offered, jumping up from her spot on the floor.
“Oh… uh…that’s alright,” Taylor tried to stop her, but Shayla insisted.
When they got into the kitchen, Taylor started rifling through the cabinets. Despite not having been to Belly’s house in a while, she still remembered where everything was.
“Having fun?” Taylor asked, as Shayla leaned against the counter, looking at Taylor with a flash of interest in her eyes.
“Tons. You?”
“Oh yeah,” Taylor tried to control the sarcasm dripping from her tone. “A blast.”
For a second, the two were quiet as Taylor rattled around in the cabinets. Then, Shayla broke the silence, her voice low but serious.
“I’m sorry to be nosy, but… I just… I have to ask.”
“What’s up?” Taylor replied, distracted, as she passed Shayla two wine glasses.
“Did something happen between you and Steven ever?”
“ What ?” Shayla had her full attention now. “What do you…”
“I just… I don’t know. I’m sensing a vibe. And it’s not just that you two can’t stand each other. It’s like… simmering tension. And the way he’s constantly looking at you… friends don’t look at friends that way.”
Taylor blinked at Shayla a few times, not quite sure what to say. “I don’t think I should be answering this. I feel like this is something you should talk to Steven about.”
Nodding, Shayla understood. “No, you’re right, it’s just… I don’t want to come off as crazy;. As a woman, it’s so hard to balance wanting to know what you’re getting into versus coming off as too much too soon… I’m sorry for bothering you.”
The girl turned to leave the kitchen, but Taylor sighed, taking pity on her. “Shayla, wait!”
“You really don’t have to…”
“No, no, it’s fine.” Taylor felt a lump in her throat. She wanted to lie, to brush it off and protect herself from more heartbreak, but something in Shayla’s eyes softened her resolve. The girl was really nice. “Look, I had a huge crush on Steven for a long time, and… well, he didn’t like me back. So you really have nothing to worry about because if he had wanted me, we’d be together right now. But we’re not. I’ve moved on, and he really likes you.” As much as it pained her to say, Taylor added, “I can tell.”
This answer seemed to satisfy Shayla, and she smiled softly. “Thank you. I needed that.”
Taylor swallowed, her stomach at her feet.. “Of course.”
~
When Taylor and Shayla returned from the kitchen, Belly perked up, an open bottle of wine in her hand. “We’re going to watch a movie.”
“Great,” Taylor replied, her self-control already fraying. She allowed herself a fleeting glance at Steven, who was sprawled on the floor with his back against the couch, his head tilted just enough that their eyes met. He gave her a look — one she couldn’t quite decipher — and her stomach twisted. She had no doubt Shayla noticed it too.
As Belly passed her a pillow, Taylor leaned back beside her best friend, tilting her head against the couch cushion. She tried to focus on the warmth of the wine in her veins, on the soft glow of the string lights Belly had strung up for ambiance, on anything but the boy to her left. But her eyes betrayed her, sliding to his profile — the sharp cut of his jaw, the relaxed set of his shoulders, the way his fingers drummed idly on his knee as if his body never quite relaxed, even at rest.
Stop it, she scolded herself. He’s not yours to look at.
“Is this a scary movie?” Belly asked, pressing herself closer to Conrad.
“Not by your standards,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Although you think ‘Night at the Museum’ is scary.”
Taylor forced a chuckle, but her mind was elsewhere. As the movie played, a quiet drama with a haunting score, she found herself stealing glances at Steven again. It was easier this time, with the flickering light casting shadows on his face, making him seem distant, almost untouchable. He stared at the screen, expression unreadable, a stark contrast to Jeremiah’s occasional gasps and Conrad’s barely concealed sighs. Even when Shayla reached for his hand, curling her fingers around his, he didn’t react, his face a perfect, impassive mask.
And yet, Taylor thought, maybe Shayla was right to worry. Maybe she sensed what Taylor felt whenever Steven was near — that unbearable, simmering tension that made her feel both too small and too large at the same time. Taylor hated and wanted him in equal measure, the lines blurring so thoroughly she could hardly tell one feeling from the other.
For a second, with the blue lights flickering on his face, she didn’t feel like she hated him at all. In fact, all she felt was a deep-rooted, insatiable longing for him.
Just as she was about to tear her eyes away again, his head turned, his gaze cutting to hers like the crack of a whip. Her breath caught.
She jerked her head back to the screen, but she felt his eyes linger, like the ghost of a touch on her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. And from the corner of her eye, she saw Shayla shift, her posture tightening, her grip on his hand growing just a bit firmer.
It was the longest movie Taylor had ever endured.
~
As the credits rolled and the room filled with the low hum of the TV’s end screen, Shayla shifted beside Steven, untangling her fingers from his with a forced stretch.
“I should head out,” she said, her voice a little too bright, the way people sound when they’re trying to hide their discomfort. She smoothed her hair and grabbed her phone from the armrest.
“Oh, already?” Belly asked, still curled up against Conrad, her eyes heavy with post-movie drowsiness.
“Yeah, I have an early morning,” Shayla replied quickly, offering a tight smile. She leaned over to brush her lips against Steven’s cheek, her eyes flicking to Taylor for the briefest of seconds before she straightened. “Walk me out?”
Steven hesitated, glancing at Taylor, before he pushed himself up off the floor. “Yeah, of course.”
Taylor forced herself to keep her eyes on the credits, reading the names of every grip, every costume designer, every assistant director as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. She could still feel Steven’s presence, though, the way he lingered for a second before following Shayla out of the living room, the front door clicking softly behind them.
For a moment, the room fell into a tense silence, only the soft hum of the TV filling the air. Jeremiah was the first to break it, stretching his long legs out on the coffee table and smirking.
“Bet they’re making out on the porch,” he said with a lazy grin. “I mean, why else would he take so long to come back?”
Taylor’s stomach twisted violently, heat flushing through her body. She wanted to laugh, to roll her eyes, to play it off like it was nothing, but her throat felt tight. She reached for her glass of wine, finding it empty, and set it down a little harder than intended.
“They’re probably just saying goodbye,” Conrad offered, his arm still draped around Belly, who was too busy struggling to keep her eyes open to notice the shift in Taylor’s mood.
“Yeah, saying goodbye with their tongues ,” Jeremiah snickered, waggling his eyebrows. “Good for him. They’re cute together. I think they’re a good match.”
Taylor dug her nails into her palm, forcing a tight, brittle smile. “Maybe they’re just talking about the movie.”
Jeremiah shot her a curious glance but didn’t push it, and the conversation drifted to some show he wanted them to watch next, his voice blending into the background as Taylor’s mind spiraled.
When Steven finally came back inside, he lingered by the door for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the dimness. He looked… off. His jaw was tense, and there was a strange, almost guarded look in his eyes as they swept the room, landing on Taylor for just a second too long.
“You good, man?” Jeremiah called, kicking his feet off the table as if preparing for some kind of revelation.
“Yeah,” Steven replied, his voice a bit too clipped, his gaze flitting back to Taylor before he cleared his throat. “I’m good.”
He crossed the room and sank into the armchair, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes resolutely fixed on the TV screen, though Taylor could feel the weight of his attention like a physical thing.
She forced herself to keep her eyes on the blank glass in front of her, her heart racing, convinced that somehow, impossibly, Shayla had whispered her suspicions into his ear on the front porch.
It felt like the walls of the living room were closing in, every breath a little too shallow, every glance from Steven a little too sharp.
Taylor wasn’t sure what was happening, but she knew one thing for certain — it was going to get harder and harder to pretend she felt nothing for him.
~
Taylor slipped quietly through the front door, the cool night air rushing over her heated skin as she stepped onto the porch. She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the wooden railing and sucking in deep, steadying breaths. Her pulse still raced, and her mind was a mess of conflicting emotions, each one sharper than the last.
This was a mistake, she thought bitterly. Coming here, being around him. Letting herself care.
The door creaked open behind her, and she stiffened, knowing who it was without even turning around. She felt his presence like a shift in the atmosphere, the air suddenly more charged, every nerve in her body on high alert.
Steven stepped up beside her, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the silence stretching thin and taut between them.
“She left because of you,” he said finally, his voice low but cutting.
Taylor’s grip on the porch railing tightened, her nails digging into the weathered wood. She glanced at him, her heart thundering in her chest.
“Me?” she echoed, struggling to keep her voice steady. With him, she was always prepared to fight. It was safer that way.
He nodded, exhaling slowly, his breath misting in the cool air. “She thought… she said I look at you… the way you’re not supposed to look at friends.” His jaw tightened, his profile sharp in the moonlight. “She said that friends don’t look at friends that way.”
Taylor felt a flicker of something dangerously close to hope, her pulse quickening despite the steady ache in her chest. She searched his face, but he was carefully avoiding her gaze, his eyes fixed somewhere over the darkened lawn.
“And what do you think about that?” she asked, her voice softer than she intended.
For a moment, he was silent, the air between them crackling with unspoken words. Then, he let out a short, humorless laugh, still not looking at her.
“I think she’s wrong,” he said, his tone colder than the night air, his gaze still averted. “I’ve said it already, that I don’t see you like that, Taylor.”
Taylor’s stomach dropped, the flicker of hope extinguished as quickly as it had ignited. She felt her cheeks flush with a mix of anger and humiliation, her breath catching painfully in her throat.
She scoffed, the sound bitter and sharp in the stillness of the night. “Then why are you out here?” she shot back, turning to face him fully, her eyes blazing. “Why follow me if you don’t care? What do you want from me, Steven?”
He finally looked at her, his dark eyes meeting hers, and for a second, something unspoken passed between them, a silent, desperate plea. But then he broke the connection, looking away as if the sight of her was too much to bear.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice low, almost broken. “I don’t know .”
Taylor felt her heart splinter, the crack widening into a chasm she knew she’d fall into if she stayed a second longer.
“Then I guess there’s nothing to talk about,” she whispered, her voice trembling with hurt and fury. She turned on her heel, her footsteps sharp against the wooden planks as she yanked the door open and stormed back inside, the warmth of the house hitting her like a slap.
She didn’t look back, didn’t stop until she reached the living room, her chest heaving, her eyes stinging. She sank into the couch beside Belly, curling into herself as if she could somehow ward off the sharp, gnawing ache in her heart.
Steven didn’t come back in right away, and for once, she was grateful for the distance.
~
Three months. It had been three months since that night on the porch, since Taylor had stormed back inside without looking back. Three months since Steven had pretended that he didn’t care, that she didn’t matter, that Shayla hadn’t seen right through him. Three months of trying to ignore the hollow, gnawing feeling in his chest every time he thought of her.
But today, that numbness shattered.
Steven was cutting through the hallway, already late for practice, when he spotted them. Taylor, leaning against the row of lockers by the exit, and Milo, leaning into her. The scene hit him like a punch to the gut.
Milo’s bleached hair caught the harsh fluorescent light, his leather jacket hanging loosely off his narrow frame. He leaned in closer, one hand braced against the locker beside Taylor’s head, the other casually brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. She laughed at something he said, her head tilting back, exposing the soft line of her throat. Then, with an ease that made Steven’s blood run cold, Milo dipped his head and captured her lips with his.
Steven’s entire body went rigid. The world seemed to slow down around him, the chatter of students and the clanging of locker doors fading into a distant, distorted hum. All he could see was them, tangled up in each other, Milo’s hands on her waist, Taylor’s fingers fisted in the collar of his stupid jacket.
Milo. The wannabe rockstar who thought wearing dirty converse and carrying around a beat-up guitar made him interesting. Milo, who had once serenaded a half-empty cafeteria with a butchered rendition of a Nirvana song. Steven’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw locking tight. Milo, of all people.
The rational part of his brain tried to tell him that he had no right to be angry, no claim to her. But that voice was drowned out by the roar of jealousy in his veins, the bitter taste of regret rising in his throat. He had been the one to push her away, to tell her their kiss had been a mistake, to convince himself that friendship was all they could ever have. And now here she was, moving on, letting someone else into the space he had so carelessly abandoned.
“Yo, you good, man?” Spike’s voice cut through his haze of anger, the guy slapping a hand on Steven’s shoulder as he fell into step beside him. “You look like you’re about to punch someone.”
Steven forced a tight, humorless smile, his eyes still fixed on Taylor and Milo, who had broken apart now, their heads close as they whispered to each other, oblivious to the rest of the world.
“I’m fine,” Steven bit out, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide the fact that they were trembling.
Spike followed his line of sight and let out a low whistle. “Oh, damn. I didn’t know Taylor and Milo were a thing. What a hot couple!” He shot Steven a sideways glance, his brow furrowing. “You sure you’re good?”
Steven forced his gaze away, focusing instead on a dent in the nearby locker. “I’m fine,” he repeated, his voice hollow.
Spike shrugged, clearly not convinced but unwilling to push it. “Alright, man. Catch you later.”
As Spike disappeared down the hallway, Steven forced himself to breathe, the sharp, metallic taste of jealousy still fresh on his tongue. His mind flashed back to that night on the porch, to the way Taylor had looked at him, her eyes blazing with hurt and anger as she’d demanded to know what he wanted from her. He hadn’t had an answer then, but now it felt painfully clear.
He wanted her.
And he might have just lost his chance.
Steven swallowed the lump in his throat, his pulse still racing as he forced himself to turn away, to head to practice and pretend that everything was fine, that he didn’t care. But the truth was, he cared more than he ever had. And he didn’t know if he could live with that.