Page 95 of Riptide

I think about Ryan, and the way he stood there like he had a right to be part of Foxx’s life again. It makes my grip tighten on the steering wheel all over again.

He doesn’t get to have him. Not after the damage he did. Not when he didn’t even stay to pick up the pieces.

Foxx deserves someone who shows up. Someone who stays.

I press harder on the gas.

By the time I pull up outside his place, the rain has picked up, clinging to the windows in a fine, relentless sheen that makes everything look slightly blurred.

With a deep breath, I get out.

I jog across the street, rain soaking through my hoodie, shoes splashing in the shallow puddles already pooling at the curb. Reaching the call box, I stare at the list of names, hand hovering. I could press his. I could buzz him and say what? I kinda want this to be a gesture he doesn’t see coming. So I scan for Eugene’s name and press call.

A few seconds pass. Then: “Yes?”

“Hey, Eugene, it’s Finn. Could you let me into the building?”

The line crackles slightly. “Why aren’t you calling your boyfriend?”

“Well, I’m kinda trying to do this big romantic gesture…” I hesitate, knowing it sounds ridiculous. “You know what, don’t sweat it. I’ll just call—”

The door buzzes open. “Go get him, kid,” Eugene says, and I’m pretty sure I can hear the smile in his voice.

I step into the warmth and quiet of the building’s entryway, heart pounding.

Foxx’s apartment is ground floor, just down the hall to the left. I don’t rush, but I don’t hesitate either. My shoes leave damp footprints on the tile, my hoodie sticks to my back, and by the time I reach his door, I feel like the storm outside followed me in.

I knock once, and with that one sound, I think I might pass out from adrenaline.

And then he opens the door.

He’s barefoot, hair a little messy, like he’s just raked his hands through it. His expression shifts the moment he sees me—surprise first, then something more like concern. “You’re soaking wet,” he says, eyebrows drawn.

I wave him off and push my way inside, fueled by the intense need to speak my mind. “Foxx, I swear to god,” I say, still catching my breath, “if you let that asshole stand in front of you and say even one thing that made you feel like you were anything less than…than everything, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

His eyes widen, but I don’t stop. My arms have a mind of their own as they try to talk alongside me, flailing around.

“He doesn’t get to show up and rewrite your story again. He doesn’t get to crawl back into your life, like the years in between never happened. He left you. Hechoseto leave. And I’m not going to let you think, even for one second, that you weren’t worth staying for.”

“Finn—”

“No,” I cut in, voice unsteady, but sure, “I left that classroom thinking I didn’t want to get in the way, and I’ve hated myself for it since. And I know I should’ve stayed, but I didn’t know how to hold all ofthis.” I gesture around my chest, as though he should know what I’m talking about, my heart, my soul, every part of me is holding something of him and I…“I didn’t know how to let this be real without wrecking it.”

I pause, swallowing down everything still pushing at my ribs.

“I’m here now, though, and I’m not walking away.”

He stares at me for a long moment. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I only know that I’ve never said anything more honest in my life.

Then he exhales slowly, the tension around his eyes easing as he looks at me like I’m something unexpected, something impossible he doesn’t want to blink away. I hope he never does.

“He’s gone,” Foxx says. “You’re right; he doesn’t deserve me.” His face then transforms from pensive to a small smile that looks as though he’s holding back a laugh. “But you just did a whole speech for me.”

My arms flail up one more time before admitting defeat at my sides. “Of course I did a speech,” I say, breath catching in my chest. “I’m in love with you.”

His expression shifts, and then he’s stepping forward, hands finding my face, pulling me in like I’m the air he needs to survive. The way he carefully and continually scans my entire face as though he’s documenting every single part of me, makes me feel seen, makes me feel safe. And I want to spend as long as he’ll let me right here in this feeling with him.

His thumb brushes my cheek. “You don’t know what that does to me,” he says.

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