Page 98 of Here We Go Again

“Or we could watch When Harry Met Sally,” Kim says. “It’s about two people who think they’re just friends, but they’re actually in love with each other the whole time.”

Theo and I exchange a look, then he turns his back to our moms. “Okay, so clearly they’re onto us,” he says, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “But that doesn’t mean we have to break first.”

“Right. I’ve got this,” I say. I step around him. “What about Saw IV?”

Theo swallows a chuckle. “Too far,” he says under his breath.

“You hate scary movies,” Mom says.

She’s right. I do hate them. Once in high school, I watched The Conjuring with Theo because I didn’t want him to think I was a wimp. I made it to the end, but I didn’t sleep for a week. But I’m already committed. It’s too late to back out now.

“I’m … trying something new,” I say.

“How about Project Hail Mary?” Theo says loud enough for our mothers to hear. Then he whispers, “I’m not letting you watch a scary movie. This one has no romance, so we still win. Plus, you love Ryan Gosling.”

The ownership in that sentence, the way he clearly wants to take care of me and also remembers one of my favorite actors, makes my heart feel too big for my chest. “That sounds good to me,” I say, holding his gaze. “Let’s do that one.”

In the end, I think our moms are the ones who win because watching a movie next to Theo and not touching him is the worst kind of torture. By the time the movie is halfway over, the air between us is so thick with crackling tension, I might actually explode.

I’m so aware of him. Dialed in to every inch of space that separates his body from mine.

During a particularly intense part of the movie, when both our mothers’ eyes are trained on the screen, Theo drapes his arm over the back of the couch, then slowly inches his hand forward, grazing his fingers over the back of my neck.

My skin lights up at the touch, and I lean in, aching for more contact. It’s all I can do not to scoot closer, nestle my whole body into his side so I can breathe him in, feel the weight of his arm around my shoulders.

Instead, I stand up. “I think we need more popcorn.” I grab the empty bowl off the coffee table and speed-walk into the kitchen. I set the bowl on the island, then duck into the pantry where I sink against the wall. I’ll pop more popcorn, but I need at least a moment to recalibrate and let some of the tension drain out of my body.

But then Theo steps into the pantry, shutting the door behind him.

“What are you⁠—”

I can’t even finish my sentence before his lips are on mine, his hands almost frantic as he tugs me against him, pulling me closer, closer.

“You think you can just sit over there on the other side of the couch,” he says in between kisses. “Looking this good, smelling this good. I’m losing my mind, Bec.”

“Why do you think I’m hiding in the pantry?” I ask him. “I don’t think I’m capable of being close to you without touching you.”

He leans back, planting his hands on the wall behind me, one on either side of my head. “Then touch me,” he says, his voice like silk.

I lift my hands, sliding them under the hem of his t-shirt in search of bare skin. He sucks in a gasp, then I knot the fabric of his shirt in my hands and tug him against me, capturing his mouth in a kiss that melts us both.

Until the pantry door swings open.

Theo pulls back and smiles down at me as his mom says, “Well, well, well. Who’s busted now?”

26

THEO

I went into this week hoping I might have the opportunity to convince Becca to give me a second chance. I never anticipated we might wind up here.

And yet, even after eight years apart, being with Becca feels like the most natural thing in the world. Our interactions have a rhythm to them that feels both familiar and brand new at the same time, like we’re taking all the good parts of what we were and expanding them into something that better reflects our age and maturity.

After our mothers learn the truth—they luckily manage to keep the gloating to a minimum—Becca and I are basically inseparable. We spend our mornings paddleboarding or snorkeling or walking on the beach while our mothers shop and visit bookstores and antique markets. We buy fresh produce we’re never going to finish before it’s time to go home and eat the best scallops we’ve ever had from a food truck parked in the grocery store parking lot.

We watch movies. We read books. We swim and nap on the beach. We stay up late talking, then force ourselves to go to bed only to start texting the minute we’re apart.

With every passing moment, I become more and more certain that I never stopped loving her. She changed my DNA, altered the rhythm of my heartbeats so they only beat for her.