Mature content: strong language, violence, sexual themes, and drug use. Reader discretion advised. Everything is fictional!!
Tyler
I don't stop walking.
I should.
I should slow down, breathe, think—
But I don't.
The shop door slams behind me, the sound loud and final, echoing in my head as I keep moving like if I stay still for even a second, everything that just happened is going to catch up to me all at once.
My jaw is tight.
My hands are shaking.
And I can still feel it.
Him.
The weight of him, the way he kissed me like he was trying to fight me and need me at the same time, like he didn't know what the hell he was doing but couldn't stop anyway.
His hand on me...
I let out a harsh breath, dragging a hand down my face as I step out into the street, the sunlight too bright, too normal for something that just—
Happened.
"Shit," I mutter under my breath.
Because what the hell was that?
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
I shove my hands into my pockets, walking faster now, like I've got somewhere to be even though I don't, like I'm running from something I can't actually outrun.
Because this isn't just about the kiss.
It hasn't been since that night.
It got worse.
A few days after it happened, I was already trying to pretend it didn't mean anything, trying to shove it into the same box I put everything else that doesn't fit, when Lexi showed up.
Like she always does.
No warning.
No text.
Just there.
Leaning against my doorframe like she owns the place, arms crossed, that familiar smirk already in place like she knows exactly why she's there and doesn't feel the need to pretend otherwise.
"Miss me?" she asked, pushing herself off the wall like she wasn't just showing up out of nowhere.
Same tone.
Same game.
And usually?
I'd go along with it.
No questions. No thinking.
Easy.
But that day something felt off
Maybe it was me.
Actually, yeah.
It was me.
Because I wasn't in it.
Not really.
I let her in anyway.
Because that's what we do.
Because it's simple.
Because it doesn't mean anything.
At least it's not supposed to.
We ended up in my room, same as always, the air thick with that familiar tension that's usually easy to fall into, easy to follow without thinking.
But this time—
I couldn't.
She started kissing me, but I wasn't kissing her back, it just didn't felt right.
She noticed.
Of course she did.
"You're acting weird," she said after a while, pulling back just enough to look at me properly, her brows furrowing slightly.
"I'm not," I muttered, even though I very clearly was.
"Tyler," she pressed, her tone shifting just enough to show she wasn't buying it. "You're literally somewhere else right now."
"I said I'm fine." I try to brush it off, leaning closer, kissing her neck, doing the things I would usually do.
She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she leaned back against the headboard.
"Wow," she said. "Didn't know I bored you so much you'd have to fake this."
"You don't," I replied automatically.
"Then what is it?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, studying me in a way that made something in my chest tighten.
"Nothing."
She didn't let it go.
Of course she didn't.
"You've been weird since the race," she continued, her tone sharper now, more curious than teasing. "Actually, no—since before that. And now you're acting like you don't even wanna be here, which is new."
"I said it's nothing," I repeated, my patience starting to wear thin.
"Yeah, okay," she muttered, clearly not convinced. "So it has nothing to do with Aaron?"
That—
That made me look at her.
Properly.
"What?" I asked, slower now.
She blinked, like she didn't expect that reaction.
"...Nothing," she said, way too quickly.
"No," I pushed, sitting up slightly, my eyes locked on hers. "What did you just say?"
She hesitated.
And that's how I knew.
"That you and him—" she started, then stopped herself, clearly realizing too late that she'd already said too much.
My chest tightened.
"What about me and him?" I asked, my voice quieter now, but way more dangerous.
Lexi sighed, dragging a hand through her hair like she was already regretting this.
"Look, it's not a big deal—"
"What do you know?" I cut her off, sharper this time.
She stared at me for a second, like she was debating whether to lie or just get it over with.
"He told us," she said. "Me and Mason."
Everything in me went still.
"Told you what?" I asked, even though I already knew.
She didn't answer right away.
Which was answer enough.
But then she said it anyway.
"That you kissed."
The words hit harder than they should have.
Not because of the kiss.
Because he told them.
He told her.
And Mason.
Something in my chest twisted, sharp and sudden, something that felt a lot like anger but not quite the same.
Because that wasn't supposed to be shared.
That wasn't supposed to be something anyone else knew.
That was supposed to be something we would both forget.
"Why would he—" I started, then stopped, shaking my head as I stood up abruptly, running a hand through my hair.
"Relax," Lexi said, like that was even an option. "It's not like we're broadcasting it or anything."
"That's not the point," I snapped.
"Then what is?" she shot back, her own frustration rising now. "It happened, Tyler, you both got confused for a second. It's not some huge problem."
"It is to me," I said, my voice low, tight.
She frowned at that.
"...Why?" she asked, softer now, but still confused.
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't have one that made sense.
Because I didn't even fully understand why it bothered me so much—
only that it did.
Lexi watched me for a long second, her expression shifting, something clicking into place behind her eyes.
"Oh," she said quietly.
I didn't like that.
"What?" I snapped.
She hesitated.
Then shook her head.
"Nothing," she said again.
"Lexi."
She exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed now.
"What do you want me to say?" she shot back. "That it meant something? That you're suddenly into my brother? Please, I'm not doing this."
My jaw tightened.
"It didn't mean anything," I said automatically.
"Good," she replied, just as quick. "Because it didn't for him either."
That—
That hit.
I don't know why.
But it did.
She didn't seem to notice, or maybe she did and didn't care, because she kept going.
"He literally said it was a mistake," she added with a shrug. "That it didn't change anything."
Something in me snapped.
"Get out."
The words came out colder than I expected.
Lexi blinked.
"...What?"
"You heard me," I said, stepping back, putting space between us like I suddenly couldn't stand being in the same room anymore. "Get out."
"Tyler, seriously?" she scoffed, pushing herself off the bed. "You're kicking me out over that? Over my brother?"
"Just go."
There was a pause.
Then she rolled her eyes, grabbing her jacket.
"Whatever," she muttered, heading for the door. "You're being weird as hell. The Tyler I know would never do this."
The door slammed behind her.
So thats why she came here? To make sure I was still the Tyler she knew?
The Tyler that would fuck her anytime she wanted
To make sure that kissing a guy hadn't ruined what we had?
Hadn't ruined me?
I stood there, staring at nothing, my chest tight, my head a mess.
Because now I couldn't stop thinking about it.
About the fact that he told them.
About the fact that it was a "mistake."
About the fact that it apparently didn't mean anything.
And that's when I decided,
I was going to see him.
But after everything that just happened in that shop
I almost wish I hadn't.
⸻
I start avoiding him the next day.
Not in a subtle way. Not in a "maybe we just won't cross paths" kind of way.
I actively avoid him.
I change my routes, skip places I know he might be, leave early, arrive late, keep my head down, my focus somewhere else—anywhere else—so I don't have to deal with the way everything inside me still feels like it's spinning out of control.
Because after what happened in that fucking shop
I don't trust myself around him.
And the worst part?
He doesn't come looking for me.
Not once.
No texts.
No showing up.
No pushing.
Nothing.
And that should make it easier, because I'm not expecting him to do any of those things.
It should make it simpler to pretend none of it mattered, to fall back into the same routine, the same mindset, the same distance we had before.
It doesn't.
It just leaves too much space for my own thoughts.
So I fill it the only way I know how.
Ignoring everything and everyone, except Cole.
He doesn't ask too many questions, doesn't push when I brush things off.
Doesn't look at me like he's trying to figure me out.
We work.
We hang out.
We talk about everything except the one thing sitting at the back of my head like a loaded gun.
Until race night.
That's the first time I see Aaron again.
The place is already alive when I get there, engines revving in the distance, people crowding the edges, voices overlapping into one constant hum of anticipation and noise that settles into my bones like it always does.
It's the only place where everything else usually disappears.
Usually.
I lean against my bike, helmet hanging from my hand, trying to lock in, trying to focus on the race, on the track, on anything that isn't—
Him.
But it's useless.
Because the second I glance up I see him.
Aaron.
Across the lot, surrounded by people, looking exactly like he always does—steady, controlled, like nothing ever shakes him, like nothing ever gets to him.
Like the last time we were in the same place, we weren't on the ground, fists flying, mouths crashing together like we'd both lost our minds.
My jaw tightens.
I look away.
Not dealing with that.
Not tonight.
I push off the bike, moving toward the back area, away from the crowd, away from everything, needing a second to breathe, to reset before the race starts.
The noise fades slightly the further I go, the lights dimmer here, the air cooler, quieter,
And that's when I hear footsteps behind me.
I don't need to turn around.
"Tyler."
My shoulders tense anyway.
I close my eyes for half a second, exhaling slowly before turning.
Aaron.
Of course.
For a moment, neither of us says anything.
We just stand there, a few feet apart, the space between us feeling way too small and way too charged at the same time.
"You've been avoiding me," he says finally.
Straight to the point.
I huff a quiet, humorless laugh.
"Yeah," I reply. "And it was working. Until now."
His jaw tightens slightly at that.
"Can we just—" he starts, then stops, like he's trying to figure out how to say something he's not used to saying. "Can we talk?"
"There's nothing to talk about," I shoot back immediately.
"There is," he insists, taking a small step closer.
I don't move.
"No," I say, shaking my head. "There really isn't."
"Tyler—"
"You called it a mistake," I cut him off, my voice sharper now, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
"...What?" he asks.
I let out a short breath, running a hand through my hair.
"Lexi told me," I say, my tone flat now, controlled in a way that feels way too forced. "You told them. That it was a mistake. That it didn't change anything. That was why I went looking for you at the shop."
His expression shifts.
"That's not—" he starts.
"Save it," I cut in again, stepping back this time, putting space between us because suddenly he's too close again, too real, too everything I've been trying to avoid. "I get it. You needed to tell yourself that. Fine. Whatever."
"That's not what I—" he tries again, frustration creeping into his voice now.
"Then what?" I challenge, my own temper flaring. "What is it, Aaron? Because from where I'm standing, it looks pretty much what you meant."
"It's complicated," he snaps.
"Right," I scoff. "Because kissing your rival—twice—pinning him to the ground and acting like you're about to kill him, one second just before—" I stop myself, jaw tightening. "Wasn't that complicated."
His chest rises sharply, like that hit somewhere it wasn't supposed to.
"You think I enjoy this?" he fires back. "You think I like playing with my own feelings, just because what—I'm experimenting new things or something?"
"Could've fooled me," I mutter.
Silence stretches between us again, heavier this time.
"I didn't mean—" he starts, then stops, like he's realizing too late how that sounds.
I laugh, but it comes out wrong.
"Didn't mean what?" I ask quietly. "Didn't mean to kiss me? Didn't mean to do it again? Or didn't mean to call it a mistake?"
"That's not what I'm saying," he says, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated now.
"Then say what you are saying," I push.
He hesitates.
And that tells me everything I need to know.
"Yeah," I mutter, shaking my head. "That's what I thought."
"That's not fair," he snaps.
"Fair?" I repeat, letting out a sharp breath. "You wanna talk about fair? You drag me into whatever the hell this is, then go around telling people it meant nothing, and now you wanna talk?"
"I didn't drag you into anything," he shoots back immediately. "You were there too."
"Yeah," I agree, my voice dropping, quieter now but heavier. "I was."
"You're blaming it all on me, but you can't make yourself say it out loud that those fucking kisses mattered something to you!"
Another pause.
"You keep fucking running away from this, so what do you expect me to do?" He sighs.
The noise from the crowd starts getting louder again, voices rising, engines revving in the distance.
The race is about to start.
Perfect timing.
Aaron exhales sharply, like he's running out of time and patience all at once.
"I just—" he starts, then stops, clenching his jaw. "I don't know what this is, okay? I don't. But ignoring it isn't fixing anything."
I stare at him.
"Yeah," I say after a second. "Well, im not trying to fix anything."
His eyes flash at that.
"You fucker—" he starts, but the words get drowned out by the sudden roar of engines revving up, people shouting, the signal that everything's about to begin.
We both look toward the track instinctively.
the moment's over.
I grab my helmet.
"Race is starting," I say, my voice flat again, controlled.
"Tyler—" he tries one more time.
I shake my head.
"Fuck you, Aaron."
Then I turn.
"And fuck whatever this is."
And walk away.