Page 45 of Resurrection
"It was so easy back then," she says softly. "Remember?"
"How could I forget?"
The memories flood back, vivid and relentless, pressing in on all sides.
"We thought we had it all figured out." She laughs bitterly.
"And then I screwed it up. I seem to have a knack for that."
I see her faint smile in the reflection of the window. It cuts me, the way something beautiful does.
"Only seventeen years of silence, Ty. No big deal."
The community parking lot looms ahead, empty and bathed in the amber from the pole lights. I pull in and kill the engine. The sudden quiet feels louder than anything else. Naomi opens her door without a word, and I scramble to follow her.
"Naomi," I say, but she's already walking.
The ground feels unsteady as I catch up. My heart's a frantic mess in my chest, like that one guitar solo that doesn't know when to stop.
She turns at her car, her keys in her hand, and I'm there, breathless and burning with everything I shouldn't be. I know now why I’ve been staying away all this time, why I’ve been terrified to reach out to her. Nothing has changed between us. Even after a string of faceless ex-girlfriends—she’s the only one who’s ever made me feel all these strange things. She’s the only one who matters.
"Hey," I whisper, and it comes out rough, like gravel. I forget what I was going to say next.
She meets my eyes, then it happens. Something in me snaps. All the old promises and regrets crash together, a train wreck of need and our past life. I lean in, drawn to her like a magnet, and kiss her without thinking.
Her lips are soft, warm and familiar. It's like coming home. The world tilts, dizzy and perfect, but only for a second.
She pulls back, her eyes wide and hurt and angry. All the things I love about her.
Then the slap. Hard across my cheek, the sting fierce and sharp.
"Seventeen years of silence," she hisses out, her voice shaking. "And you think you can just kiss me?"
I stumble back half a step and try to find the right thing to say, but it’s not there, scared off by that glare in her eyes.
She gets in her Subaru and slams the door extra hard. The engine roars to life, and she's off, the taillights disappearing into the night, leaving me alone with the taste of her still on my lips.
What the fuck did I just do?
13NAOMI
Tyler Brady kissed me,and suddenly, we were seventeen again, standing outside his beat-up Honda, swearing we’d never leave each other. Now, I’m swearing to myself, trying to rub the thought of him off my brain like an oil stain.
The audacity.
"Sweetheart, why don’t we use that blue dinner set your dad gave me on our twentieth anniversary?" Mom’s voice comes from the kitchen.
"Where's it?" I ask as I enter her domain.
Her hands are everywhere, stirring, chopping, opening cabinets. There’s a distinct scent of tamales swimming through the air. It’s her coveted family recipe, and I wish I could be excited about this dinner. But I’m not.
My thoughts are complete and utter chaos because of Tyler Brady.
It’s been a few days since that parking lot kiss, and I’ve been desperately trying to erase the sensation of his lips on mine to no avail. Even the first wave of the Coachella crowd flooding Oasis this week hasn’t succeeded in distracting me.
"It's in the same cupboard it's been at for the past five years," Mom supplies.
"No, it's not. You have glasses there now."
