This morning I woke up to sunlight and a racing heart. Everything that happened hit me like a wave—fast, warm, and disorienting.

The fight.

                   The rain.

                                    The drive.

                                                       The kiss.

All of it was real. And somehow, it had happened to me.

I barely had time to process any of it before I heard Tracy stomping down the hallway like a prehistoric beast. She barged into my room unannounced, holding an empty toilet paper roll like it was a crime scene exhibit.

“Troy!!!” she shouted, flinging the roll in my direction.

It barely made it halfway and flopped to the floor with a sad little bounce. I laughed without meaning to.

“How many times do I have to tell you to throw it away and put in a new one?” she snapped, hands on hips like a sitcom mom.

“Sorry, sorry,” I said, still grinning. “It won’t happen again, I swear.”

(It would. We both knew it would.)

She narrowed her eyes, watching me with suspicious intensity.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re smiling. You’re not sulking. Something’s up.”

“Wow... You’ve hurt my feelings,” I said flatly.

She didn’t buy it. She never does.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Then I’m telling Mom about the toilet paper.”

“I’m not scared.”

She plopped down into my desk chair with a triumphant grin, spinning half a turn toward me.

“Please?”

I rolled my eyes. “Only if you promise not to squeal.”

“I don’t do that.

I hesitated, then finally gave in. “I kissed Chris.”

Her eyes lit up.

“I mean—we kissed. Each other. He wanted to. I think.”

She beamed, wide and proud. And yeah, it was kind of annoying. But also... kind of nice.

Because that look? It meant she cared. That me being happy made her happy too.

“Finally!” she said, throwing her hands up. “And people say girls are complicated. So, tell me. Are you dating now or what?”

I blinked. “What? Dating? No. We’re not—no.”

The words came out fast, but even as I said them, the idea didn’t sound half as terrifying as it used to.

“Why not?” she demanded. “What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure how he feels. About me. About... this.”

“Ugh.” She leaned back dramatically. “That’s what I’m saying. You guys are all over the place!”

“Have you even gone on a date yet?” she continued, not even pausing to let me answer. “Let me guess—nope.”

She was right. It didn't even cross my mind. I was so busy trying not to screw it up that I completely forgot how these things go.

“Why don’t you start there?” she asked, suddenly serious.

“Start where?”

“Just do everyone a favor and invite the poor boy on a date.”

I hesitated. Should I?

Would he even want to?

Spending more time with him, just the two of us, sounded amazing. But it also made my stomach twist.

What if he was waiting for me to ask?

“Maybe I should try it,” I said, more to myself than her.

“Do it,” she said immediately, pointing to my phone.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

I reached for it. His last message was still sitting there, soft and kind, like a small gift.

Screw it.

She stared at me, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised like I was a disappointing contestant on a reality show. She didn’t say a word—just stood there, radiating judgment at my hesitation.

Are there people scared of phones? Because sure as hell, I was terrified of mine right now.

I was the one who took his profile picture. Snapped it when he wasn’t paying attention—distracted, soft, just... him. Not to brag, but it’s still my favorite picture of him. And somehow, I got him to actually use it.

He’s wearing my favorite hoodie in it. The one he stole and took forever to give back. Honestly, I should’ve known. I didn’t lend it to him because he was cold. No, he just grabbed it and wore it like it belonged to him, the little thief. And, of course, I let him. He looked too damn cute in it.

Now that I think about it... Stealing clothes? Kinda classic relationship behavior, right?

Me: Hey! You awake?

My phone buzzed.

Chris: Morning! No, I'm still asleep. Try again later.

Me: Haha, very funny. So... I was thinking... Wanna hang out tomorrow? Just us. Somewhere quiet?

The typing bubble popped up immediately.

Chris: That sounds great.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“He’s in,” I said, still staring at the screen.

“You’re welcome,” Tracy replied, as she stood up.

The house was quiet again.

Tracy had passed out in her room, and I’d been lying in bed for... I don’t know. An hour? Maybe more.

I hadn’t moved. I couldn’t focus on anything else. Chris said yes. To a date. With me.

And I wasn’t panicking. Exactly. But I also hadn’t blinked in at least thirty seconds, so that probably meant something.

I picked up my phone and scrolled through our messages again. There weren’t a ton. But enough to make me smile like a total idiot.

His last one still sat at the bottom of the screen.

Chris: Can’t wait for tomorrow :)

That smiley face killed me a little. In the best way.

I typed something back. Then deleted it.

Then typed something else.

Me: Me too.

I hit send before I could change my mind again, then tossed the phone to the far side of the bed.

He said yes. That’s it. That’s the whole story.

I still have no idea what I'm doing.

But for once, that didn’t feel like a reason not to do it.

And honestly?

I kind of can’t wait.