Page 19 of Unbreakable

Tyler and I become a public couple, showing up to group hangouts together, walking across campus hand in hand, acting like people who are actually in a relationship instead of people navigating complicated shared history.

Lennox is insufferable about having been right all along.

“I called it,” she says for the hundredth time when we’re all hanging out at Carter’s place.

“You did not call it,” I argue. “You manipulated it.”

“Same thing.”

The friend group has grown into this weird, wonderful extended family. Carter and Lennox are solid, clearly in it for the long term. Isla and Sebastian have that effortless luxury relationship thing going on. Marcus and Lilah balance each other out perfectly. Maya and Ryder are rebuilding after trauma together. Priya and Jackson are in Providence figuring out their future. And now Tyler and I are here, having gone from enemies to… this.

Something real and genuine and worth the journey it took to get here.

“So,” Tyler says one evening while we’re lying in my dorm bed, “I’ve been thinking about next year.”

“What about it?”

“I got into RISD. Full ride. I’m going to do my MFA in painting.”

“That’s amazing.”

“It’s in Providence.”

“Oh.” I process this. “Rhode Island.”

“Yeah. And I was thinking… would you maybe want to come with me? To Providence? We could get an apartment. You could keep writing. We could figure out what comes next for both of us.”

I sit up, looking at him. “You’re asking me to move with you?”

“I’m asking if you’d consider it. No pressure. If you want to stay here, if you want to figure out your own path⁠—”

“I want to come with you.”

He sits up too. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to see what we can build together. I want to support your art while I write. I want to have a life with you that isn’t defined by what happened sophomore year but is informed by it.”

“That’s very articulate.”

“I’m a writer.”

He kisses me, and it tastes like a promise, of something special.

Chapter 13

Tyler

Moving to Providence is exciting and terrifying.

We find an apartment in a converted warehouse, high ceilings and brick walls perfect for my studio space. Cassie sets up a writing nook by the window where she can watch the city while she writes.

“This is real,” she says on our first night, looking around at the empty apartment.

“Yeah. It is.”

“We’re actually doing this. We’re actually building a life together.”

“We are. How do you feel about that?” I ask.