The Moon Between Us

Chapter 5

By the time we got home from school, the sky was already starting to shift toward that soft, dusky blue. The porch creaked under our weight as Sage fished out her keys, balancing her bag on her hip.

I was halfway through pulling off my boots when Sage’s head snapped toward the sound of a motorcycle engine.

The sound grew louder, closer, until a sleek black bike slid into view, slowing to a stop right at the edge of the yard.

The rider killed the engine and swung a leg over with an ease that made it look like the bike was an extension of him. Helmet off, hair a dark, wind-tousled mess, Tyler Blackwell looked exactly the way my mind had replayed him since this morning—only now, he was smiling. Not the faint smirk I’d caught before. A real smile. Small, crooked, but enough to make my pulse stumble.

“You’re here,” Sage said, already heading toward him.

“Called into work,” he said, eyes flicking briefly to me before settling back on her. “Figured I’d check in.”

I swallowed. The only things I knew about Tyler were that he’d carried me out of the woods, smelled like leather and pine, and that the way his voice slid over words made it sound like he knew more than he let on.

Sage smiles and gives Tyler a friendly hug, like they’ve known each other since birth. They might have. They pull apart in the hug. “Stay for dinner. I might need you.”

His smirk was faint but real. “You sure you want me hanging around?”

“Of course,” she said, waving him toward the porch.

I stepped aside as they climbed the steps, the scent of leather, pine, and something faintly warm—like amber—trailing after him. It was familiar from that night in the woods, but stronger now, and harder to ignore.

We stepped inside, and somehow it was like Tyler already knew where to go—he set his helmet down on the bench by the door without asking, then dropped into the corner of the couch like he owned it. Sage took the other end, curling one leg under her, and for a second I wasn’t sure where to sit.

Tyler’s eyes flicked to the empty space between them, and I moved there, tucking my knees together. The couch suddenly felt too small, the air too warm.

“You feeling better?” he asked me.

I nodded. “Mostly.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, like he was checking for himself, not trusting my answer. “Good.”

There was a long pause.

“So…” Sage leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “What’s the plan for dinner? I was thinking pizza.”

“Sounds fine,” Tyler said, eyes still on me. Not in an obvious, staring way—just… watching. Like he was trying to read me.

I cleared my throat, desperate to break the silence. “Any good places here?”

Tyler smirked, a single dimple showing. “One. The rest are garbage. You’ll see.”

That smirk made my stomach twist in a way I didn’t want to admit.

Sage pulled out her phone. “Fine, Blackwell. You pick the toppings, but no pineapple.”

He glanced at her, then back at me. “You okay with pepperoni and sausage?”

I nodded, more focused on the fact that his voice was low enough I had to lean forward to hear him.

Sage dialed in the order, and while she talked to the pizza place, the silence stretched between us again. Tyler’s knee was close enough to mine that I could feel the faint heat radiating off him.

“So,” he said finally, voice casual, “You settling in okay?”

“I think so,” I said. “It’s… different here.”

“Different good?” he asked.

I hesitated. “I guess I’ll find out.”

His smirk widened a fraction. “Fair enough.”

Sage finished the call and leaned back, grinning. “Thirty minutes. Plenty of time for you two to get acquainted.”

Tyler gave a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… acquainted.”

And just like that, I realized something: he was comfortable here. Comfortable with Sage, with the house, with the quiet. But around me? There was a flicker of something else—an edge, like I was a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit yet.

I bite my lip and tap on my knee with my finger. I couldn’t stop myself. “So… you two… are… a thing?”

Sage choked on a laugh, nearly snorting into her hand. Tyler’s smirk grew, but his eyes didn’t give anything away.

“Nope,” Sage said quickly, waving her hand. “Definitely not.”

“Not at all,” Tyler agreed, his voice smooth, almost too smooth, and yet there was a glint in his eye like he was enjoying how flustered I was.

I narrowed my eyes at them. Something was happening here. I could feel it. Maybe not romantic exactly… but there was history. Familiarity. Secrets.

“Just friends?” I pressed.

“Friends who trust each other,” Sage said, but the tone made it clear there was more to the story.

The pizza arrived fifteen minutes later, the smell of melted cheese and spicy pepperoni filling the living room. We ate, the conversation drifting from school—Sage pointing out who was popular, who hung out where, little quirks of the hallways—while Tyler casually teased her about knowing all the gossip.

Through it all, I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him—how his smile hit just the right corner of his mouth, the way he shifted in the couch, the faint calluses on his hands when he reached for a slice. And every time our eyes met, I felt it—a spark I couldn’t explain, and a tiny panic hit me.