Page 96 of The Very First Night

“It will sound insane.”

“Try me.”

And so I tell her, despite the fact that she very well may think me insane once I’m done. I tell her everything. I tell her how I’d read on a forum that, during a meteor shower, if you make a wish, it might actually come true. I had only hoped that one meteor would be enough.

I didn’t think it would work. It’s insane, right? To even think that you could go back in time and change anything. Yet one year ago, I woke up back in my college fraternity house with a girl who very much wasn’t Kat in my bed.

What I wasn’t prepared for was that no matter what I did, Kat still got together with Elijah. No matter how hard I tried to show her that it could be me, I couldn’t stop it. Short of manipulating her, which is something I would never do, it wasn’t enough to stop her from going down that path with him.

My only hope is that, now that I’ve heard her tell me she loves me, maybe it will be enough—even if she very well may tell me to fuck off.

As I finish recounting the whole truth to Kat, she slowly moves to sit on the couch, motionless, her eyes fixed on a distant point in front of her. There is no visible reaction on her face. No signs of distress or anger, just a blank expression that clues me into the fact that she is processing everything silently. It’s as if time has frozen, allowing us to linger in this moment before moving forward.

My throat tightens, my palms slick with sweat. “Please, can you say something?” I beg, desperate for any response other than the one I fear.

But she remains silent, her eyes unblinking.

“Kat, please.”

Silence washes over us as I pace back and forth, waiting for her to shake free of whatever is coursing through her mind in this moment.

It is only when I’m just about to tell her I can go that her voice, much more timid than I’ve ever heard it, quietly carries through the room.

“I went back too.”

Whatever I anticipate her saying, it’s not that. Actually, for a moment I think I might have misheard her. However, when she looks up at me, I know.

My legs give out and I drop onto the couch next to her, my hands trembling as I try to process this onset of information.

How is it even possible?

“I…I didn’t know that you’d be sent back too,” I choke out. “If I had known that…I promise I would never take away your free will like that.”

“You didn’t—I think I wanted to go back too. Not for the same reasons, but I wanted to go back.”

“To be with Elijah?” Even the thought stings, but I can’t fault her. She’s spent years—twice over—wanting things to work with him.

Kat’s shoulders slump as her lips twist into a bitter expression. “Yeah, to be with Elijah.” Her voice cracks, revealing the pain she has been hiding. She opens her mouth to speak again, then closes it immediately, as if the thought holds far too much weight.

“What were you going to say?” I ask.

She slouches back into the couch, fiddling with a loose thread on her sweater. I wait patiently, watching her struggle to form sentences. She lets out a long sigh before finally speaking.

“I don’t want that anymore,” she says quietly, shaking her head.

“What do you want?” I ask, admittedly a bit fearful given what started this conversation. She wanted to end things with us; maybe she still does. Maybe it’s all too much.

I’ve always been comfortable with silence, but as the seconds tick by without a response from her, my heart begins to pound in my chest and sweat forms on my palms.

My hands clench into fists as I fight the urge to ask her again. I can see the tension in her jaw. Her eyes dart around the room, avoiding my gaze. I know she heard me, but is she going to answer? I don’t want to push her, but the silence is unbearable.

Finally, she clears her throat and I find myself questioning if I’ve somehow managed to manipulate time again. Before, I never would have considered it, but weirder things have clearly happened.

“I meant what I said.” Her gaze shifts to meet mine as she says with confidence, “I love you, Tanner. I don’t know why I wouldn’t have seen that before, but I do now. I don’t care how we got here anymore.”

Air leaves my lungs in a rush as I release the breath I’ve been holding. I press my palms against her cheeks, my fingers threading through her hair. I lean in, determined to taste every inch of her. Our lips meet with a desperate urgency, our breaths mingling as we pour every ounce of longing into the kiss.

It takes every ounce of self-control I have to pull away and press my forehead to hers. Our gasps mingle as I attempt to muster up the words to ask, “Is your mom coming home tonight?”

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