Page 32 of Unlucky in Love
His lips curved into a smirk. “Exactly. Don’t you remember? This was the song you taught me to dance to.”
Taylor blinked. “What?”
He leaned in a little closer, his voice quieter, almost coaxing. “Junior year. I was supposed to take Madison Reed to prom, but I didn’t know how to dance. You caught me panicking in the gym the week before, remember? You said you’d help me figure it out.”
Memories bloomed, sweet and sharp. The gym had been nearly empty after school, sunlight streaming through high windows, the smell of floor wax thick in the air. She’d laughed when Ryan admitted he had two left feet. She’d placed his hands on her waist, guided him through the steps, her heart racing so fast she thought it might burst.
And yes, this ridiculous love song had been playing on the stereo someone left running.
Taylor’s throat tightened. “I didn’t think you remembered that.”
Ryan’s eyes softened. “Of course I remembered. I remember everything about that day. Especially how much I didn’t want it to end.”
Her heart thudded. “Then why didn’t you just…take me to prom?”
His gaze held hers, steady and unflinching. “Because you were Emma’s best friend. And I’d already screwed up enough by wanting you when I shouldn’t. You were off-limits.”
Taylor’s breath caught, her fingers tightening in his jacket. The jukebox warbled through another verse, but all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart.
She whispered, “You wanted to take me?”
Ryan’s jaw flexed, as if he was wrestling with whether to hold something back. Then, finally, his mouth tipped into a wry half-smile. “More than anything.”
The words landed in her chest like fire, like truth she’d been aching to hear for nearly a decade.
And for a long moment, as they swayed in the glow of neon lights and half-empty coffee cups, it felt like the years between them disappeared.
Taylor’s heart was still hammering as she tried to breathe around what Ryan had just admitted. More than anything. He’d wanted her more than anything.
She swallowed, needing to lighten the air before she floated away on the weight of it. Her eyes swept the room, the checkered floors, the worn vinyl booths, the chrome trim dulled from years of use. “It’s weird being back here at night. I feel like we spent half our childhood in this diner.”
Ryan’s mouth curved. “More than half. Emma practically lived off grilled cheese and milkshakes for three years straight.”
Taylor laughed, the memory slipping out before she could stop it. “She used to dunk the French fries in her strawberry shake and make us both do it too. Said it was the ultimate food combo.”
Ryan chuckled. “Yeah, until she got sick in my car and swore she’d never touch strawberry again.”
Taylor winced, grinning. “You were so mad at her.”
“I had just washed the car,” Ryan said, but there was no heat in his voice. “Besides, I should’ve expected chaos. Anytime you two were together in here, something went wrong.”
Taylor gasped in mock offense. “Hey, I was the responsible one!”
Ryan arched a brow. “Responsible? You climbed on the counter one night to switch the jukebox songs while Emma dared you to do a tap dance while you were up there.”
Taylor pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “That was a very important mission. The jukebox had been stuck on country for an hour, and the tap dance was for kicks and giggles.”
“And you nearly broke your neck.”
She shrugged. “Worth it.”
Ryan shook his head, but he was smiling at her in that quiet way again, like he was remembering not just the chaos, but the way she’d always been right there, woven into his family, into Emma’s laughter, into his life.
“You know,” Taylor said softly, “Emma and I used to sit in that booth—” she pointed to the corner one with the cracked red vinyl “—and plan out our futures. She’d say she was going to marry a rock star. I said I was going to write books and live in Paris.”
Ryan’s smile faded into something gentler. “You’re halfway there, Tay. You are writing books.”
Her stomach flipped. She hated how much it meant that he’d said that, so casually, so confidently, like it wasn’t a secret shame. She looked down at the USB drive in her hand, her throat tightening.
