Page 67 of My Best Friend's Bully

“Promise,” I say, scrunching my eyelids together as tight as I can.

We ride for a few more minutes, the sound of clicking horse hoofs filling my ears.

The sleigh comes to a stop.

“Can I open them now?” I ask.

“Not yet. I’ll say when.” Tyson lifts the blanket and gets up, rearranging the blanket on my lap before hopping to the ground. I keep my eyes closed as I listen to his steps crunching in the snow on the ground below.

“Okay. Stand up first. Then you can open your eyes,” he says in that low baritone sexy growl of his.

I open my eyes and he is standing next to the carriage, arms stretched upward toward me at the side of the sleigh. He grabs me by the hips and I wrap my arms around his neck as he lowers me to the ground in his powerful arms. Behind him, at the edge of the lake, is a spectacular igloo the size of my entire living room, with walls made of crystal clear ice blocks that give a view of the inside. Fairy lights woven around igloo twinkle from an unknown power source.

“Thank you, Jacques.” Jacques nods and clucks again to the horses, and the sleigh disappears down the trail as Ty and I trudge through the snow and enter inside the igloo.

The inside is warm, heated by little space heaters, and the floor is covered with plush cushions surrounding a low table at the center, set for two. A large wicker picnic basket sits on the cushions on the other side of the table near the inside wall of the igloo. Tyson takes my hand and escorts me to my seat where I strip off my outer layers before plopping down onto the cushion beside the table.

“This is amazing. How much work was this?”

He shrugs, nonchalant, as he pours wine into two crystal glasses. “Not too much. I wanted a special place where we could talk.”

He sits down next to me, legs brushing mine.

“Oh, this sounds serious.” I pick up my glass and twirl it in my fingers.

“Jordan, I meant what I said the other day. I love you.” He waits until I meet his eyes before continuing. A flush of heat from inside rushes through me. “I know what we have is complicated, but I don’t want there to be any obstacles between us. I want to spend my life with you. Not just sometimes. Will you be my girlfriend?”

I swallow a gulp of wine, nearly choking. “Girlfriend? Tyson I…”

He takes my hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “Do you want to be with me?”

With his eyes fixed in mine, I cannot deny his sincerity. I certainly cannot deny my feelings for him. I think of what he went through, agreeing to talk with Cole only because I wanted it. And his parents. No matter how painful it was for him, he did it anyway. For me. It took guts for him to open up, and maybe it’s time for me to be as brave as he is.

“Yes,” I say, putting my wine glass down and turning to face him. I catch his other hand and lift it, kissing his palm. “Tyson Reynolds, I love you. Yes, I want to be your girlfriend.”

A boyish grin spreads across his face. So innocent that I can’t help but laugh. It’s as if I’ve just granted him his deepest wish. He tugs me onto his lap, his warm hands against my lower back, and it’s a long, long time before we get around to opening the picnic basket.

Chapter 33

Tyson

Thecampusiscrowdedwith students spilling out of brick buildings and onto the snow-covered lawns. They stomp across the roads without sparing a glance for traffic, confident in their domain. I ease the car forward another ten feet, babying it over an aggressive speed bump, then stop to let another crowd of students go past. Despite the cold, most of them are wearing nothing more than sweatpants and sweatshirts, beanies pulled down over messy hair. Backpacks hang from one shoulder, so full of books I’m afraid they’ll fall out and into the road at any moment, creating more of a traffic jam.

“What did I sign up for,” I mutter to myself, looking around the campus at the chaos.

But I know why I’m here. Jordan. She asked me to meet her at the school during a break between classes for a quick lunch together, and I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to see her. I wonder if she’s watching from a window somewhere, laughing at how long it’s taken me to drive the final stretch from the road to the designated parking lot. Following her instructions, I park in a small lot toward the back of the campus, where plows have piled snow in mounds higher than my head.

I grab the bag of takeout and send Jordan a text to let her know I’m here. I get out of my car, scanning her last message for instructions on where to go next. A crowd of students pours out of the building beside me and sweeps me up in its flow. I follow the crowd like a sheep in a flock until they disperse again in smaller groups that melt away into various buildings.

I arrive at the building according to Jordan’s instructions, its white brick covered with ivy vines and segmented by tall, narrow window panels. Snow hides what looks to be a garden in the front. When the wind starts to blow, coming off the nearby water carrying a shocking chill, I hurry inside.

“You found it!” Jordan greets me at the door with a kiss. “I was worried you’d get lost in the crowd and end up in a biology lab somewhere.”

“They do come out in droves, don’t they?” I take the hand she offers as she leads me up the stairs.

The building smells of floor polish and old books, so unlike the industrial cleaner smell of my office building. Jordan seems at home here, navigating the halls and rooms without hesitation.

“Here we are,” she says, leading me through an open door into a small room. “You can sit there.”

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