Chapter 4: The Door Opens

His voice was low, warm, almost apologetic. My roommate giggled, shaking her head.

My roommate just shook her head, starstruck, and tugged my arm. “So cute. I think he’s even better looking than the guys in our dorm.”

She whispered it like a secret, her cheeks pink. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help grinning.

I nodded. “He is pretty cute.”

We both laughed, caught in the moment. He flashed us another grin before jogging back to his team.

Aunt Linda pointed to a photo. “This is his middle school picture. He played basketball every day back then and got really tan.”

She tapped the glass, her voice fond. “He practically lived on the court. We had to drag him home for dinner.”

Then she pointed to another one. “This is from elementary school.”

The photo showed a gap-toothed Tyler, arms thrown around two friends, dirt smudged on his cheeks. It was pure nostalgia.

Finally, her finger landed on a photo at the edge.

It was tucked behind a few others, almost hidden. The frame was bright yellow, a little chipped at the corners.

I followed her finger with my eyes.

I squinted, trying to make out the details. The picture looked older, a little faded.

In that photo, Tyler was wearing a pair of little-kid overalls, squatting on the floor and grinning. The important bit was strategically covered with a smiley-face magnet.

The magnet was a big, goofy yellow one, right in the center. Tyler’s grin was so wide it was almost mischievous.

Aunt Linda leaned in and whispered as she moved the magnet, “Let me show you—don’t tell him.”

She winked, conspiratorial, like she was letting me in on some family joke.

As she spoke, she moved the magnet aside.

I barely glanced before looking away, face burning. I tried to laugh it off, but I could feel my ears turning red.

I wanted to look away, but the image was already burned into my mind.

I tried to focus on the other photos, but it was too late. That one was going to haunt me for a while. Perfect.

I was so embarrassed and didn’t know what to do when there was a knock at the door.

The sound snapped me back to reality. Aunt Linda straightened, smoothing her hair and smiling at me.

Aunt Linda looked at me. “That’s Tyler. He never remembers his keys. Go open the door for him.”

Her voice was gentle but insistent. She gave me a little push, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

I wanted to refuse, but Aunt Linda had already nudged me toward the door.

I hesitated for half a heartbeat, then took a breath, squared my shoulders, and made my way to the front door.

I took a deep breath and opened it.

The doorknob was cool and smooth in my hand. I pulled the door open, trying to look as calm as possible.

Tyler stood there, a basketball tucked under his arm.

He was still in his practice jersey, shorts, and sneakers, his hair damp with sweat. His eyes widened a little when he saw me.

He looked like he’d just finished playing—there was still sweat on his forehead.

He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, glancing past me into the house.

When he saw me, he froze for a second, then stepped back and checked the house number.

He squinted at the numbers above the door, then back at me, confusion plain on his face.

He muttered, “No way I got the wrong house.”

His voice was half a laugh, half disbelief. He looked at me like I was some kind of mirage.

I waved at him with a smile. “Nice to meet you, boyfriend.”

I gave him my brightest, most innocent grin, trying not to laugh at the look on his face. In that moment, I realized this was one story I’d be telling for years.