Tyler Grant.
Just his name was enough to summon an image of sunshine wrapped in a smile—the kind that felt like your favorite playlist on a perfect summer day.
Tyler was the definition of warmth personified: six feet of casually confident charm with golden-blond hair kissed perfectly by the sun.
14
Tyler’s presence wasn’t loud or flashy; it was subtle yet irresistible, a quiet confidence that whispered of strength without the need for bravado.
His eyes sparked with mischief one moment and soulful sincerity the next, switching effortlessly like the best song on shuffle.
He carried himself with the grace of an athlete unaware of just how attractive he truly was, and when Tyler laughed, it was a deep, infectious sound—a laugh that made Ra question her life choices, mainly why she hadn’t kissed him yet.
And then came that Vegas weekend—Ra still couldn't recall whose idea it was exactly, but knowing Tyler, he'd probably suggested it half-jokingly while she fully committed before he'd even finished his sentence.
Vegas wasn't their usual vibe, but maybe that was exactly why they needed it. The endless desert road stretched ahead, and as Ra lounged in the passenger seat, she watched Tyler effortlessly steer with one hand on the wheel, the other casually hanging out the window, drumming to the beat of their road-trip playlist.
“You realize if we’d gone to Bali instead of Vegas, we’d be sipping cocktails on the beach by now,” Tyler teased, glancing at her with a smile that was annoyingly distracting.
“Bali?” Ra laughed. “You realize that's at least three wardrobe changes for me and a 14-hour flight with your questionable taste in movies?”
“Excuse me, my taste is impeccable,” Tyler retorted, mock-offended. “Besides, you’d survive. I’m an excellent beach companion.”
“Oh, really?” Ra arched an eyebrow playfully. “Because the last time we hit the beach, you fell asleep and woke up looking like a tomato with legs.”
“It's called a strategic tan,” he countered. “And tomatoes are delicious, thank you very much.”
Ra shook her head, unable to suppress the laughter bubbling up. The ease between them felt dangerously good, the line between friendship and more blurring with every mile they put behind them.
“Fine,” she said finally, arching a brow in playful challenge. “Five years. If neither of us is hopelessly entangled, Bali. Beach wedding, matching towels—the whole cliché package. Deal?”
15
Tyler’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Are you seriously proposing a backup plan for marriage to me right now?”
Ra extended her pinky dramatically. “Better lock it in before I come to my senses.”
Tyler chuckled, hooked his pinky with hers, and sealed the pact with a playful yet lingering kiss, electric enough to stun them both into silence.
They pulled back, eyes locked in a heated gaze, words stuck unspoken between them.
A thousand questions hung there, just beyond the safety of humor, waiting for courage neither could summon.
"Guess that's official, then," Tyler murmured softly, his voice huskier than usual, eyes searching hers with newfound intensity.
"Guess it is," Ra echoed quietly, pulse hammering as she reluctantly withdrew.
Moments later, as they retreated into separate rooms with a casual wave and shaky laughs to mask the obvious, Ra stared at the ceiling and sighed.
The "what if" between them had never felt more painfully unresolved.
As she lay awake, staring at the Vegas skyline glittering beyond her window, Ra sighed. What if, indeed? Maybe she'd just risked everything—or worse, maybe she'd missed her moment completely.
Either way, she knew one thing for sure: This was far from over.
They'd pinky-sworn their future, but what about right now?
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