The performance goes off without a hitch. I screw up a line. They yell cut. Another actor fucks up. They yell cut. The audience laughs and applauds, and at the end, we take a bow, and that is when I notice him. Tyler is sitting in the third row, his eyes glued on me. Holy shit! My pulse goes into overdrive, my palms become sweaty, and my mouth is suddenly dry. I can’t stop staring at him because how in the hell did he get here, I mean, I can assume how he got here, but why is he here. A wave of nausea washes over me.

I’ve ignored his texts—much like a child—for the past few months. Yet, here he is.

The stagehands direct us off stage, but I stay behind. I stand to the side of the set, watching as the entire auditorium clears out. Tyler is still sitting there and then, my phone dings with a text.

We need to talk. I came all the way from California, and I’ll sit in this studio until they force me to leave.

All that threat does is remind me of the time we got into a fight after he’d put on porn. I replay that memory in my mind, a smile forming on my face.

I push the screen door open, and it smacks against the exterior of the house. “You are so gross, Tyler. A pervert. I can’t date a pervert. Go date Ellen Framptom. I’m sure she likes Debbie Does Dallas.”

“Oh, come on, titch. It was a joke.”

I’m still stomping across the yard. “Nope. You’re sick. And if you think I will ever do something like that with you—” a nervous laugh slips through my lips because I would so do that with him, “Well, you are wrong.”

“Jemma, really? You’re being so immature.”

A few drops of rain fall from the sky just as a long groan of thunder shakes the ground.

“Maybe so, but you’re a sicko,” I say because that’s mature.

“Sex is a natural thing.”

I grab onto the wooden boards of the fence and pull myself over, toppling over when I land in my yard.

“You know what?” he says. “When you realize what a drama llama you are being, I’ll be sitting right-fucking-here.”

“It’s going to storm,” I call over the fence.

“Don’t care.”

“You’re stubborn and stupid and a pervert.”

“Again, you are immature.”

“Ugh. Fuck you, Tyler.”

“Watch your mouth, young lady.”

I make fists with my hands as I march up the concrete steps. I open the back door and slam it closed for dramatic effect.

My mother is in the kitchen washing dishes, and she stops to look over her shoulder at me. “Something wrong, honey?”

“No.”

“You slammed the door.”

“Tyler’s just annoying.”

“Yeah, most boys are. It’s their penis that makes them annoying,” she says with a laugh.

My lip snarls. “Gross, mother. Just gross.”

I stomp up the stairs to my bedroom and peek out the window. It’s started raining, but he is still sitting on the bench in his yard, glaring up at my window. I flip him the bird, and he flips one back. Right as I lie down in my bed, the bottom falls out. Rain is pounding on the roof, thunder is shaking the house. I can’t help but snicker at the idea of Tyler sitting out there getting drenched. A few seconds later there’s a knock on my window. I hop out of bed and pull the curtains back, laughing hysterically at the sight of Tyler perched on the branch. He looks like a drowned rat. His eyes widen. Shaking his head, he shrugs. “Let me in,” he says.

I cup my hand to my ear, pretending I can’t hear him.

“Don’t make me break your window.”

I open the window, and he clamors inside, dripping water all over my floor. He pulls his wet shirt over his head and drops it to the floor before peeling his jeans off as well.

“Tyler…what the—” I quickly cross the room and lock my bedroom door.

“I got tired of waiting.” He takes a step toward me and grabs my chin, running his wet fingertip over my cheek. “I figured it’d be better if I just made you change your mind.” He slams his lips over mine, backing me toward my bed. He pulls away from me, sliding his hands down my side to my hips and inching the waist of my yoga pants down. “You can’t stay mad at the person your heart belongs to.”

The door to the auditorium slams shut, jarring me from that memory. I watch Tyler as he fidgets with his hands. One of the security guards approach him, most likely to tell him to leave. Right now, I can do one of two things: I can let that guard tell him to leave, and I can watch him walk out of my life forever, or I can suck it up and go out there.

Tyler glances up at the guard, says something and shrugs. The guard shakes his head and points toward the exit. My heart is hammering in my chest, my mind jumbled.

“He’s fine,” I say, stepping out from the side of the set. “He’s my friend.”

“Well, Ms. Morgan, that’s fine, but he needs a pass to stay.”

“I said he’s my friend.”

The guard shrugs. “And that’s fine, but if he’s going to stay in here, he needs a pass.”

“Fine,” I say and walk off the set and into the seating area. “We’ll go somewhere else.”

The crotchety guard nods, mumbling to himself as he walks off.

And here I stand, in front of that boy that shouldn’t still mean everything to me, but somehow does.

Clearing my throat, I point toward the exit. “We can go for a walk or something.”

“Okay.”

We walk up the stairs in silence. My pulse is going haywire, my skin heating.

“Hey,” he says. “I need to get my bag from security.

“Uh, okay.” We turn right and come out by the entrance of the studios. Bertha is leaned against the turnstile. “Hey, Bertha.”

“I knew it was a woman,” Tyler mumbles beneath his breath and I cut my eyes over at him.

“Can we get his bag?”

She nods, opens the door to the office and drags out his bag, winking at him as she hands it to him.

“Thanks,” he says and quickly turns away.

“So, what are you doing here?” I ask as we walk down the stairs.

“Checking out a University.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, thought maybe I could look into a law degree after all.”

I smile.

“And because of you. You did great by the way.”

“Thanks.”

The cool breeze blows across the back of the studio. I watch the cigarette butts from the crew dance across the pavement, along with a wadded up piece of paper. I don’t know what to say to him. I’m glad to see him, but I’m annoyed. I don’t want to feel this way and all seeing him does is confuse my heart even more.

“I’ve played that night over and over in my head,” he says.

I swallow. “What night?”

“The last time I was with you.” He steps toward me. I step back. “What we have…” another step and this time my back is against the concrete wall of the building. “What we have isn’t something we’ll ever find anywhere else.” Tyler takes my chin in his hand and tilts my face up, forcing me to look at him. “And you know it.”

“I know,” I say, slowly removing his hand from my face. “But sometimes you have to learn when to let things go. Tyler, I wish—”

“I quit before you left.”

My heart holds back several beats before forcing a back supply of blood through my veins, my skin buzzing. “I heard.”

Tyler leans in closer until I have nowhere to go. Tilting his head, he stares me down. “You told me it didn’t matter if I quit…” his lips barely brush over mine as he speaks. “I call bullshit. You can’t stay mad at the person your heart belongs to.”

And without another second, his warm mouth covers mine, his tongue thrusting deep into my mouth. I grab onto his shoulders and tug his hard chest against my breasts. His fingers tangle in my hair as he jerks my head back, moving his lips over my neck and throat. “I fucking love you, and you fucking love me, and we belong together.”

And he’s right, we do. What defines him is the way he loves me, and that is something no one will ever be able to taint or ruin. After all these years, turns out we do have that epic kind of love that can withstand anything.