He Promised to Protect Her, Not Want Her… But Living Under the Same Roof Changed Everything

Emily Romano had her whole life planned out since she was 15 years old. And none of those plans included living with her older brother, Marco, or sharing a connected room with his annoyingly handsome best friend, Tyler Castellano. She was supposed to go to Clear View Art Academy on the other side of the country, where the best painters and sculptors in the world had studied.

 She was supposed to live in a tiny apartment with big windows and spend her days covered in paint and charcoal and finally be free from the Romano name and everything that came with it. But life had a funny way of ruining perfectly good plans. And Emily was learning that the hard way. It all started 3 weeks before she was supposed to leave when her father, Dominic Romano, one of the richest and most powerful men in the entire city, called her into his office at the Romano mansion.

The office was huge with dark wood walls and shelves filled with old books that Emily was pretty sure nobody had ever read. There was a massive desk in the center made of mahogany, and behind it sat her father, looking like he always did. Powerful, calm, and completely in control. Dominic Romano was a tall man with silver hair and dark eyes that could make grown men nervous.

 He had built Romano Industries from nothing, turning it into a billion-dollar empire that controlled half the real estate in the state. People respected him and people feared him and Emily loved him. But she also knew that when he used that certain tone of voice, the one that was soft and steady and left no room for argument, her dreams were about to get crushed.

“Sit down, sweetheart.” Dominic said, gesturing to the leather chair across from his desk. Emily sat down and she already felt her stomach twisting because her father never called her sweetheart unless he was about to say something she didn’t want to hear. I’ve been thinking about your plans for college and I’ve decided that Clear View is too far.

 You will attend Westfield University here in town and you will stay at Marco’s penthouse apartment near campus. The words hit Emily like a truck. She stared at her father for a long moment, waiting for him to smile and say he was joking. But Dominic Romano never joked about anything. Dad, no Clear View is the best art school in the country.

I worked so hard to get in. I spent 2 years building my portfolio and I got a scholarship. You can’t just change everything 3 weeks before I’m supposed to leave. >> I can and I have. I’ve already contacted Westfield and they are happy to accept you. They have a fine art program. >> Fine art program.

 Dad, Westfield is a business school. Their art program is a joke. Nobody goes there to become an artist. People go there to become CEOs and lawyers and boring people in suit. >> Where I cannot see you. Where I cannot protect you, the world is not a safe place for a girl like you. >> You mean a Romano? You mean someone with your last name? This isn’t about protecting me, Dad.

 This is about controlling me like you control everything else. >> Something flickered in Dominic’s eyes, and for just a second, Emily thought she saw pain there, but it was gone so fast she couldn’t be sure. >> The decision is made. Marco is expecting you. >> And just like that, Emily’s dream died in a room full of books nobody had ever read.

 She had argued for days after that. She went to her mother, Vivien, who was beautiful and kind, but completely unable to stand up to Dominic about anything. Viven had just smiled sadly and said, >> “Your father knows best, darling.” >> Emily tried her older sister, Isabella, who was 26 and married to a rich lawyer and lived in a mansion of her own.

 But Isabella just laughed and said, >> “At least you get to live with Marco. His apartment is gorgeous. Nobody understood. Nobody cared. And Marco, the person she was being forced to live with, hadn’t even called to talk to her about it. He had just sent a text that said, “Your room is ready.” Like that was supposed to make everything okay.

 So, here she was, 3 weeks later, standing in the doorway of Marco’s luxury penthouse apartment with two suitcases, a backpack full of art supplies and a heart full of broken dreams, staring at the place that would be her prison for the next 4 years. The apartment was huge. She had to admit that it took up the entire top floor of a building called the Meridian, which was one of the fanciest buildings near campus.

 The living room alone was bigger than most people’s entire homes with floor to-seeiling windows that looked out over the city skyline. The floors were dark polished wood and the furniture was all black leather and chrome with abstract art on the walls that Emily could tell was expensive but had no soul. The kitchen was open and modern with marble countertops and appliances that looked like they had never been used because Marco didn’t cook.

 He probably didn’t even know how to boil water. The whole place screamed rich bachelor pad and Emily already hated it. Your room is down the hall last door said without looking up from his phone. He was sitting on the massive L-shaped couch with his long legs stretched out, wearing designer jeans and a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

Marco Romano was the golden child of the family. At 23 years old, he was already vice president of Romano Industries, and everyone said he was the spitting image of their father. He was tall and broadshouldered with dark hair that was always perfectly styled and sharp brown eyes that missed nothing.

 Every girl on campus was obsessed with him. And he knew it. He had a different girlfriend every month and a confidence that bordered on arrogance. And to the rest of the world, he was Marco Romano, the prince of the city. But to Emily, he was just her annoying, bossy older brother who thought he knew everything and who had apparently agreed to be her babysitter without even asking her how she felt about it.

>> Thanks for the warm welcome. Really feeling the love here, Marco. >> Marco finally looked up and his dark eyes softened just a little. >> Hey, don’t be dramatic. This is going to be fine. You’ll have your own room, your own space, and I’ll stay out of your way. Just follow the rules and everything will be good.

>> Rules? What rules? >> No boys in the apartment ever. No parties. No staying out past midnight on week nights. No going anywhere alone at night. >> Are you serious right now? I’m 19 years old, Marco. I’m not a child. >> You’re my little sister. As long as you’re living under my roof, you follow my rules. Dad’s orders.

>> Emily wanted to scream. She wanted to pick up one of those ugly chrome lamps and throw it through the floor to ceiling windows. But she didn’t because she was Emily Romano, and she had been taught to keep her emotions inside and smile even when her heart was breaking. So, she just grabbed her suitcases and dragged them down the long hallway, past Marco’s room, past the guest bathroom, past a home gym that had more equipment than most actual gyms, until she reached the last door on the left. She pushed it

open and stepped inside. And, okay, she had to admit, the room was nice. The bed was big and covered in white sheets with a fluffy duvet, and there were enough pillows to build a fort. The closet was a walk-in, which was great because Emily had a lot of clothes. There was a desk by the window that looked out over the campus with its old brick buildings and green lawns, and she could see students walking around carrying backpacks and laughing and looking free in a way that Emily envied.

She put her suitcases down and sat on the bed and took a deep breath. She could do this four years. She would survive four years and then she would leave and go to art school and never look back. She was just starting to unpack when she noticed the door on the far wall. It wasn’t the bathroom door because that was on the other side of the room. This door was different.

 It was slightly open and she could hear music coming from the other side. Something with heavy bass and a dark melody. Emily frowned and walked over to the door. She put her hand on the handle and pushed it open slowly. And that was when her life changed forever. Because standing right there in the connected room, not more than 10 ft away, with nothing but a white towel wrapped low around his waist and water dripping down his chest.

from a shower he had clearly just taken, was the most beautiful human being Emily had ever seen in her entire 19 years of life. He was tall, even taller than Marco, with a body that looked like it had been sculpted by someone who really loved their job. broad shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist, arms that were thick with muscle and covered in veins, a chest that was hard and defined, and a set of abs that looked like they were carved out of marble.

 His skin was tan and smooth, and there were drops of water rolling down his stomach, disappearing into the towel, and Emily’s eyes followed those drops before she could stop herself. Then she looked up at his face and somehow it was even worse. He had dark brown hair that was wet and messy and pushed back from his forehead.

 A jawline so sharp it could cut glass. Full lips, a straight nose and eyes. Green eyes, the kind of green that reminded Emily of the forest behind the Romano mansion where she used to play as a kid. Deep and dark and full of secrets. But those gorgeous green eyes were looking at her like she was a bug on his windshield, like she was something annoying and small and completely beneath his attention.

 You must be the little sister. And his voice was deep and smooth, like honey poured over gravel. But the way he said little sister made it sound like the most insulting thing in the world, like she was a child who had wandered into a room where she didn’t belong. Emily felt her face turn red and hot. Not because she was embarrassed about walking in on a half- naked man, even though she absolutely was, but because she was angry.

 She was so tired of being called little. She was so tired of being dismissed and overlooked and treated like she was nothing more than someone’s baby sister. and you must be the roommate nobody told me about.” >> She shot back, crossing her arms over her chest and forcing herself to look at his face and only his face.

The man smirked, and it was the kind of slow, lazy smirk that probably made other girls weak in the knees. The kind of smirk that said, “I know exactly how good I look, and I know exactly what you were just staring at.” It made Emily want to throw something heavy at his perfect face. >> Marco didn’t tell you about me.

>> And he leaned against the door frame with one arm above his head and the towel shifted a little lower and Emily did not look down. She That hurts. I’m Tyler, by the way. Tyler Castellano, Marco’s best friend and apparently your new neighbor. Emily had heard that name before. Marco had mentioned him a few times over the years.

 Tyler Castellano was the son of Giovanni Castellano, who owned the biggest construction company in the state. The Castellanos weren’t as rich as the Romanos, but they were close, and the two families had been business partners for years. Emily also remembered Isabella mentioning once that Marco’s friend Tyler was a quote unquote dangerous heartbreaker who went through women like water and that Emily should stay far far away from him.

Looking at him now, Emily understood exactly what her sister had meant. Everything about Tyler Castellano screamed danger. From the way he stood to the way he looked at her to the way his voice made her skin feel warm. The door stays locked from that side. >> Emily’s jaws. Don’t get any ideas. >> Don’t get any ideas.

 Like she was some desperate girl who was going to sneak into his room at night. The audacity of this man was unbelievable. >> Trust me. The only idea I have right now is slamming this door shut, and I’m seriously considering it. >> Tyler’s smirk grew wider, and something sparkled in those green eyes. Amusement, maybe, or surprise.

 like he wasn’t used to girls talking back to him, which honestly he probably wasn’t because with a face and body like that. >> You’re feisty. Marco said you were quiet shy. Even if you just sit in your room and paint all day. >> Marco does not know anything about me. Nobody in this family does, >> Emily said, lifting her chin.

 Nobody in this family does. Something shifted in Tyler’s expression. Then the amusement faded and for just a second Emily saw something else in his eyes. Something that looked almost like recognition, like he understood what it felt like to be misunderstood by the people who were supposed to know you best.

 But it was gone in a flash and the cold bored mask was back. But let me make something clear. Since we’re going to be living 10 ft apart, I’m Marco’s best friend. You are Marco’s little sister. That means you are completely 100% off limits. I have zero interest in you. We are not going to be friends. We are not going to hang out.

 Little hallway conversations. And we are definitely not going to be anything more than two people who unfortunately share a wall. Got it. Every single word hit Emily like a punch to the chest. And she hated that. It hurt because she didn’t even like this guy. She had known him for exactly 3 minutes, and she already couldn’t stand him.

 But something about the way he dismissed her so completely and so coldly made her feel small and invisible. And she had spent her entire life feeling that way, the youngest Romano, the quiet one, the one everyone wanted to protect and nobody wanted to listen to. The one who was always there but never really seen.

 And now here was this stranger, this arrogant, rude, impossibly beautiful stranger doing the exact same thing. “Got it,” Emily said, and her voice came out quieter than she wanted it to. She stepped back and grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut so hard that the walls shook and a picture frame on her nightstand fell over.

 She stood there breathing hard, staring at the closed door, and she could hear Tyler on the other side. He wasn’t laughing this time. It was quiet. Completely quiet. And somehow that was worse. Emily turned around and sat on her bed and pulled her knees to her chest and stared out the window at the campus where she didn’t want to be at the school.

 She didn’t choose in the room next to a man who had just told her she was invisible. Four years, she whispered to herself. Just four years. On the other side of the door, Tyler Castellano stood in the middle of his room with his hands in his wet hair and his heart beating way faster than it should have been. He had seen pictures of Marco’s little sister before.

 Marco had shown him old family photos, and she had always just been a kid. A skinny girl with braces and paintstained fingers who Marco talked about like she was still 10 years old. But the girl who had just stood in his doorway was not a kid. She was beautiful. Not the kind of beautiful Tyler was used to. Not the flashy, obvious kind with heavy makeup and designer everything.

 Emily Romano was the kind of beautiful that hit you slow and deep, like a song you couldn’t get out of your head. Big brown eyes that were so dark they were almost black. Long dark hair that fell in messy waves past her shoulders, soft pink lips, a face that showed every emotion she was feeling because she clearly hadn’t learned to hide them yet.

 And when she had crossed her arms and lifted her chin and looked at him with those angry dark eyes, Tyler had felt something crack open in his chest, something he had spent years learning to keep shut. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cold door, and he could still smell her perfume, something soft and sweet, like vanilla and flowers.

This is going to be a problem, he whispered to the empty room, and he had no idea how right he was. The next morning, Emily woke up to the sound of her alarm at 6:30, and for a moment, she forgot where she was. She reached out, expecting to feel the familiar silk pillows of her bed at the Romano mansion, but instead her hand touched the cool white cotton of a bed that wasn’t hers, and everything came rushing back.

 the penthouse, Marco, the rules, and Tyler Castayano and his stupid green eyes and his stupid perfect abs and his stupid cruel words that had kept her up half the night, even though she would rather die than admit that. She lay there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling and listening. The apartment was quiet. Marco was probably still asleep because he had never been a morning person, even when they were kids. and Tyler.

She glanced at the connecting door which she had locked from her side last night. No sound. Good. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to think about him. She had orientation at Westfield today, and she was going to focus on that and only that. She got up and padded to her bathroom, which thankfully was private, and took a long hot shower.

 She stood under the water and let it wash over her. And she thought about Clear View and the life she should have been starting today. She would have been in a tiny studio apartment with big windows and natural light. She would have been surrounded by other artists, people who understood what it felt like to see the world in colors and shapes and shadows.

Instead, she was here. She turned off the water and dried off and went to her closet. She picked out a simple white sundress with thin straps and a pair of brown sandals. She kept her makeup light, just some mascara and lip gloss, because she had never been the kind of girl who spent hours in front of a mirror.

 She pulled her long, dark hair into a messy bun with a few pieces falling around her face and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked fine. She looked like Emily Romano, youngest daughter of Dominic Romano, future business student at a school she never wanted to attend. She grabbed her bag and walked down the hallway toward the kitchen.

 The apartment was filled with early morning light coming through those massive windows, and the city skyline was glowing gold and pink with the sunrise. And okay, she had to admit it was kind of beautiful. She was expecting to be alone because it was early and normal people didn’t wake up at 6:30 if they didn’t have to.

 But of course, because the universe hated her, Tyler Castellano was already in the kitchen. He was sitting on one of the tall stools at the marble kitchen island, eating cereal from a bowl and scrolling through his phone with his other hand. He was wearing gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips and a tight black t-shirt that stretched across his chest and shoulders in a way that should have been illegal.

His dark hair was messy and sticking up in different directions like he had just rolled out of bed and his jaw was covered in light stubble and his green eyes were half closed and sleepy. He looked like something out of a magazine, the kind of magazine that Emily definitely did not read. She stood in the hallway for a second watching him, and she hated herself for it.

 She hated that her eyes traced the line of his jaw and the curve of his bicep, and the way his long fingers wrapped around his coffee mug. She hated that her stupid heart did a little flip when he yawned and stretched and his shirt rode up just enough to show a strip of tan skin above his sweatpants. He was rude and arrogant and he had told her she was invisible and she needed to remember that.

She took a breath and walked into the kitchen like she owned the place because she was a Romano and Romanos didn’t hide from anyone. Morning, little sister,” Tyler said without looking up from his phone. And his voice was rough and low from sleep. And it did something to Emily’s spine that she absolutely refused to acknowledge.

“Don’t call me that,” Emily said, walking past him to the fruit bowl on the counter. She picked up a red apple and examined it. “My name is Emily. E M I L Y. Four syllables, very easy to remember. Tyler finally looked up and his sleepy green eyes moved over her face slowly. Then they dropped down to her sundress and her bare shoulders and her legs and then came back up to her face.

The whole thing took about 3 seconds, but Emily felt like she had been set on fire. Nice dress, he said, and his voice was completely flat, like he was commenting on the weather. Very wholesome. Emily couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or an insult, so she decided it was an insult because everything that came out of Tyler Castellano’s mouth seemed designed to make her feel like a child.

 “What is your problem with me?” she asked, turning to face him fully. Seriously, I’ve been here less than 24 hours, and you’ve already made it very clear that you think I’m some kind of annoying little pest. What did I ever do to you?” Tyler put down his phone and looked at her, and for a moment, his green eyes were unreadable.

 Then he sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair, which only made it look better, which was completely unfair. “You didn’t do anything,” he said. That’s not the point. The point is that you’re Marco’s sister and Marco is my best friend, my brother. Basically, we’ve been through everything together. And there are two things in this world that I would never do to Marco.

 One is betray his trust, and two is look at his little sister as anything other than exactly that, a little sister. Nobody asked you to look at me as anything, Emily said, and her cheeks were burning. I don’t want you to look at me at all. I don’t even want to be here, Tyler. I had plans. I had dreams. And they all got taken away from me.

 And now I’m stuck in this apartment with my controlling brother and his rude best friend. And I just want to get through the next 4 years without losing my mind. So trust me when I say that you are the last thing I’m interested in. She expected him to smirk or say something cold, but instead Tyler just stared at her for a long moment, and something changed in his eyes.

The coldness melted a little, and underneath it, Emily could see something that looked almost like understanding. “What plans?” he asked quietly. Emily blinked. She wasn’t expecting that. Nobody in her family had ever asked her that question. They had all just told her what she was going to do and expected her to accept it.

I was supposed to go to Clear View Art Academy, she said, and she hated that her voice got soft when she talked about it. I got accepted full scholarship. I was going to study painting and illustration and maybe one day have my own gallery, but my dad decided it was too far and too dangerous. And now I’m here studying business at a school that doesn’t even have a real art department.

Tyler was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Clearview is one of the best art schools in the country.” Emily looked at him surprised. “You know about Clear View?” “My mom went there,” Tyler said, and something flickered across his face. Something dark and sad that was gone before Emily could figure out what it meant.

She was a painter, Emily noticed he said was not is, but she didn’t push it because the look on his face told her that whatever the story was, it wasn’t a happy one. I’m sorry, she said, and she meant it about your mom and about Clear View and about all of it. Tyler’s jaw tightened and the walls went back up so fast Emily could almost hear them slamming into place.

Don’t be,” he said, picking up his phone again. “Life doesn’t care about your plans. The sooner you learn that, the easier things get.” And just like that, the moment was over. The tiny crack in Tyler’s armor sealed shut, and he was back to being the cold, distant guy who wanted nothing to do with her. Emily grabbed her apple and her bag and headed for the front door.

Emily. Tyler called and she stopped but didn’t turn around. Don’t tell Marco about what I said about my mom. He knows but he doesn’t like people talking about it. I won’t, Emily said. And then she walked out the door. She didn’t see the way Tyler watched her leave. She didn’t see the way he put down his phone and stared at the door for a long time after it closed.

 She didn’t see the way he pressed his hand against his chest like something hurt. And she definitely didn’t hear him whisper. She got into clear view. In a voice that sounded almost impressed, almost sad, almost like he cared. Orientation at Westfield was exactly what Emily expected, which was boring and pointless, and full of people who were nothing like her.

 The campus was beautiful. She had to give it that with old brick buildings covered in ivy and wide green lawns with fountains and benches and ancient oak trees that provided shade from the September sun. But the students were different from what she was used to. Everyone looked polished and perfect and expensive.

 The girls wore designer clothes and carried bags that cost more than most people’s cars. And the guys walked around in groups looking confident and entitled like they owned the world, which most of them probably would one day. Emily felt out of place, even though she was technically one of them. She was a Romano, after all.

 Her family was richer than most of the families here, but she had never cared about money or labels or status. She cared about art. She cared about the way light hit water and made it look like liquid gold. She cared about the feeling she got when she picked up a brush and the whole world went quiet and nothing existed except the canvas and the colors and the story she was trying to tell.

 None of these people would understand that. She was sitting alone on a bench outside the main hall, looking at the orientation packet she had been given, and feeling sorry for herself when someone sat down next to her. “You look like you’d rather be literally anywhere else on the planet,” said a cheerful voice, and Emily looked up to see a girl with bright red curly hair and freckles across her nose, and the biggest smile Emily had ever seen.

The girl was wearing a vintage band t-shirt and ripped jeans and combat boots, which was so different from everyone else on campus that Emily immediately felt a tiny spark of hope. Is it that obvious? Emily said, “Girl, you look like someone forced you to attend your own funeral.” The redhead said, laughing.

I’m Giana. Ganna Moretti, first year art major. Well, art minor technically because this stupid school won’t let you major in art, but I’m going to take every art class they have and nobody can stop me. Emily felt her heart lift for the first time since she arrived. I’m Emily. Emily Romano, first year, business major against my will.

 I was supposed to go to Clear View. Giana’s blue eyes went wide. Clear View, the art school. Oh my god, I applied there, too. I didn’t get in though. You must be really talented. Emily shrugged, but she felt a warmth spread through her chest because nobody had called her talented in a long time. I got in, but my dad wouldn’t let me go.

Overprotective Italian father, Giana guessed. The most overprotective, Emily confirmed. Giana grinned and linked her arm through Emily’s like they had known each other for years instead of 30 seconds. Well, Emily Romano, we are going to be best friends. I can already tell. And we are going to make this boring business school our playground. Come on.

 The art building is on the other side of campus. And I heard they have a studio that’s open 24 hours. For the first time in weeks, Emily smiled a real genuine smile. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so terrible after all. She spent the rest of the day with Giana, exploring the campus and laughing and talking about art and music and movies and life.

 Giana was from a big Italian family, too. The Morettes, who owned a chain of restaurants across the city, and she understood exactly what it was like to have a family that loved you so much they suffocated you. By the end of the day, Emily felt lighter than she had in weeks. She had a friend, a real friend, not one of the fake society girls her mother was always trying to set her up with, but a real genuine person who liked her for her.

 She was walking back to the Meridian building with a smile on her face when her phone buzzed. It was a text from Marco. Tyler says, “You left early. Where are you?” Emily rolled her eyes. Tyler was reporting on her now. Of course, he was. He probably couldn’t wait to get her in trouble. She texted back, “Oriorientation ran late.

 Coming home now.” She took the elevator up to the penthouse and walked in and immediately wished she hadn’t because Marco was not alone. He was standing in the living room with two other guys and they were all looking at her. Marco was in the middle looking annoyed. To his left was a guy Emily didn’t recognize. He was tall and lean with sandy blonde hair and warm brown eyes and a friendly face that was currently looking at Emily with open curiosity.

 And to Marco’s right was Tyler. He had changed since this morning and was now wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt that somehow looked designer even though it was just a plain white shirt. His dark hair was styled now pushed back from his forehead and his jaw was clean shaven and his green eyes were locked on Emily with an expression she couldn’t read.

Where were you? Marco demanded. Orientation, Emily said, dropping her bag on the couch. I told you. Orientation ended at 3:00. It’s almost 7:00. Emily crossed her arms. I was exploring campus with a friend. What friend? Marco said, and his voice had that overprotective big brother tone that made Emily want to scream. Her name is Giana.

 She’s an art minor. She’s really nice. Is that enough information, or do you need her blood type and social security number, too? The blonde guy next to Marco laughed out loud and then quickly tried to cover it with a cough when Marco shot him a death glare. Sorry, bro, the blonde guy said, but he was still grinning. She’s funny.

She’s not funny. She’s impossible, Marco muttered. Then he gestured to the blonde guy. M, this is Luca Vitelli. He’s on the basketball team with me and Tyler. Luca, this is my sister, Emily. Luca stepped forward and extended his hand. And when Emily shook it, he held on just a second longer than necessary and smiled at her with those warm brown eyes.

 “It’s nice to finally meet you, Emily.” Marco talks about you all the time. “He does,” Emily said, surprised. “All good things,” Luca said, and his smile was so genuine and warm that Emily felt herself relaxing. “He’s really proud of you. He just doesn’t know how to show it because he’s emotionally constipated. Luca, Marco warned. What? It’s true.

Luca said innocently, and Emily laughed. She liked Luca already. He was easy and open and friendly, and he didn’t make her feel small or invisible. He made her feel welcome. She glanced at Tyler and found him already watching her, but he wasn’t looking at her face. He was looking at Luca’s hand, which was still loosely holding Emily’s, and the expression on Tyler’s face was something Emily had never seen before.

 His jaw was clenched, and his green eyes had gone dark, almost black, and there was a muscle ticking in his cheek, like he was biting down hard on something he wanted to say. Emily pulled her hand away from Lucas, and Tyler’s eyes snapped up to hers. For one electric second, they just looked at each other, and the air between them felt thick and heavy and charged like the moment before a thunderstorm.

Then Tyler looked away. “I’m going out,” he said to no one in particular, and he grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch and walked to the door. “Tyler, wait,” Marco called. “We’re supposed to go over the game plan for tryyouts later,” Tyler said. and the door slammed behind him.

 Marco stared at the door, frowning. What’s his problem? Luca looked at Emily. Emily looked at the door and somewhere deep in her chest, in a place she didn’t want to examine too closely, something fluttered. “I have no idea,” she said quietly. But that was a lie because she had seen the way Tyler looked at Luca’s hand on hers. She had seen the darkness in his green eyes, and even though he had told her in very clear words that he had zero interest in her, and that she was nothing more than his best friend’s little sister, his eyes had told a

completely different story. Tyler Castiano was jealous. And Emily Romano was in so much trouble. Tyler didn’t come home that night. Emily knew because she stayed up until midnight pretending to read a book, but really listening for the sound of the front door opening or footsteps in the hallway or any sign that the man on the other side of her wall had come back.

 But there was nothing, just silence. She told herself she didn’t care. She told herself it was none of her business where Tyler Castellano went or what he did or who he did it with. He had made it very clear that they were nothing to each other and she was going to respect that because she had more important things to worry about, like surviving her first day of classes at a school she didn’t want to be at.

 She fell asleep with the book on her chest and the lamp still on. And when she woke up the next morning to her alarm at 7, she felt tired and irritated and not at all ready to face the day. She got dressed quickly in high-waisted jeans and a cream colored blouse and white sneakers and pulled her hair into a low ponytail.

 She grabbed her bag and walked to the kitchen. And this time it was Marco who was there sitting at the island drinking coffee and reading something on his laptop. He was wearing a navy blue suit because he had to go to Romano Industries after his morning class. And he looked so much like their father that it made Emily’s chest ache.

“Morning,” Marco said, glancing up at her. “Morning,” Emily said, opening the fridge and grabbing a yogurt. “Did Tyler come home last night?” The question came out before she could stop it, and she immediately wanted to shove the words back in her mouth because Marco looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a suspicious expression that she did not like at all.

 “Why do you want to know?” Marco asked slowly. “I don’t,” Emily said way too quickly. “I was just asking. He left pretty suddenly last night, and I thought maybe something was wrong.” Marco studied her for a long moment, and Emily kept her face perfectly blank, which was a skill she had learned from years of living with Dominic Romano, who could read people like books.

 “Tyler is fine,” Marco said finally. “He stayed at some girl’s place. He does that sometimes. That’s just who Tyler is, M. He’s not the kind of guy who stays in one place or with one person for very long.” Emily ignored the sharp sting in her chest. Cool. I don’t care. I was just asking. Good, Marco said, and his voice got serious because I need you to hear me on this.

 Emily, Tyler is my best friend, and I love him like a brother, but he is not the guy for you. He’s not the guy for any girl, honestly. He doesn’t do relationships. He doesn’t do feelings. He goes through women like they’re disposable. And I’m not saying that to be mean. I’m saying it because it’s the truth. And I don’t want you getting hurt.

 Marco, Emily said, and she put her hands on the counter and looked her brother dead in the eyes. I have known Tyler Castellano for exactly one day. One day. I don’t like him. I don’t want him. He’s rude and arrogant, and he called me little sister like it was a disease. The last thing I would ever do is develop feelings for a guy like that. So, please stop with the warnings because they are completely unnecessary.

Marco held her gaze for a moment and then nodded slowly. Okay, good. Just making sure. Emily grabbed her yogurt and her bag and headed for the door. And M. Marco called after her. Yeah. Have a good first day. Emily paused and looked back at her brother. And for a second, he didn’t look like the controlling, overprotective heir to the Romano Empire.

 He just looked like her big brother who used to help her build pillow forts and sneak her extra dessert when their parents weren’t looking. The brother who used to carry her on his shoulders at the park and tell her she was the coolest kid in the world. “Thanks, Marco,” she said softly, and she meant it. She took the elevator down and walked out of the meridian into the warm September morning.

 The campus was bustling with students hurrying to their first classes, and Emily joined the flow of people heading toward the main academic building. Her first class was introduction to business management, which sounded about as exciting as watching paint dry, except Emily actually loved watching paint dry because it was part of the art process.

So really it sounded worse than that. She found the lecture hall which was huge with tiered seating and a big projector screen at the front and she chose a seat near the middle. She was pulling out her notebook when someone dropped into the seat next to her and she looked up expecting to see Giana but instead she saw a girl she had never met before.

 The girl was stunning like stop in your tracks and stare stunning. She had long platinum blonde hair that fell in perfect waves past her shoulders and ice blue eyes and cheekbones that could cut diamonds. She was wearing a tiny black dress that showed off long tan legs and heels that were way too high for a morning class, and she carried herself with the kind of confidence that said, “I know I’m the most beautiful person in this room, and I dare you to disagree.

” Is this seat taken? The blonde asked, and her voice was sweet, but there was something underneath it, something sharp and calculating that Emily picked up on immediately. No, go ahead, Emily said. The blonde sat down and crossed her long legs and extended a perfectly manicured hand. “I’m Valentina. Valentina Greco.

” Emily shook her hand. “Emily Romano.” Something flashed in Valentina’s ice blue eyes at the name Romano. Recognition, interest, and something else that Emily couldn’t quite identify, but that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Romano, Valentina repeated slowly. As in Dominic Romano? Romano Industries? That’s my father, Emily said carefully.

Wow, Valentina said, and she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I’ve heard so much about your family. Your brother Marco is quite famous around campus. Everyone knows who he is. Yeah, Marco tends to make an impression, Emily said neutrally. And his friend Tyler Castellano, Valentina continued, and her voice changed when she said Tyler’s name.

 It got softer, warmer, almost possessive. Do you know Tyler? I mean, of course you do. If Marco is your brother, Tyler and I have a history. Emily felt something cold settle in her stomach. A history? She repeated. Valentina’s smile widened, and it was the smile of a cat who had just spotted a mouse. We dated last year.

 Well, dated is a strong word. Tyler doesn’t really date anyone, but we were together for a few months, and it was intense. Really intense. We broke up because of timing issues, but I have a feeling we’ll find our way back to each other. We always do. Emily had no idea why this information made her feel like she had swallowed a rock.

 She had no claim on Tyler. She didn’t even like Tyler. He was rude and cold, and he had spent all of 5 minutes with her before deciding she was worthless. But the thought of him with this perfect polished predatory blonde made Emily’s hands clench under the desk. That’s nice, Emily said with a smile that was just as fake as Valentina’s.

I hope it works out for you. Valentina studied her for a moment with those sharp blue eyes, and Emily got the distinct feeling she was being evaluated, measured, sized up. “You’re not what I expected,” Valentina said. “What did you expect?” Emily asked. “I don’t know. Marco’s sister. I guess I expected someone more like him, more polished, more put together, more aware of the world she was born into.

 The words were wrapped in sugar, but underneath them was pure venom. And Emily recognized the tactic because she had grown up in a world full of women like Valentina. Women who smiled to your face and destroyed you behind your back. Women who wore beauty like armor and used words like weapons. But Emily was a Romano, and Romanos didn’t flinch.

 “I think you’ll find,” Emily said, meeting Valentina’s gaze with steady dark eyes. That I’m full of surprises. Something shifted in Valentina’s expression. A flicker of respect, maybe, or maybe just the realization that Emily wasn’t going to be as easy to intimidate as she had hoped. “I’m sure you are,” Valentina murmured.

 And then the professor walked in and the class began. Emily spent the next hour trying to focus on the lecture about market analysis and corporate structure, but her mind kept wandering. She thought about Tyler staying at some girl’s place last night. She thought about Valentina’s possessive voice when she said his name.

 She thought about the look in Tyler’s eyes when Luca held her hand. None of it made sense. Tyler didn’t want her. He had told her that clearly. So why did he look at Luca like he wanted to break his hand? And why did Emily care so much about the answer to that question? After class, she practically ran out of the lecture hall, desperate to get away from Valentina and her ice blue eyes and her loaded comments.

She was speedw walking across the campus quad when she spotted Giana sitting under a big oak tree with a sketchbook on her lap and immediately felt the tension in her shoulders ease. “Ganna,” she called, and the redhead looked up and grinned. “Emily, how was your first class? Did you survive?” “Barely,” Emily said, dropping onto the grass next to her.

 I met a girl named Valentina Greco, and I’m pretty sure she’s going to make my life miserable. Giana’s grin faded. Valentina Greco, blonde, blue eyes, looks like she belongs on the cover of Vogue, but has the personality of a venomous snake. You know her? Everyone knows her, Giana said, and her voice was serious now. Her father is Antonio Greco.

 He’s some kind of big shot businessman who’s been trying to get in with the Romanos and the Castellanos for years. Valentina basically grew up in the same circles as Marco and Tyler. She and Tyler had a thing last year and when he ended it, she did not take it well. She keyed his car. She showed up at his apartment at 2:00 in the morning.

 She told everyone on campus that he was obsessed with her when really it was the other way around. She told me they broke up because of timing issues. Emily said. Giana snorted. Yeah. The timing issue was that Tyler realized she was absolutely insane. He broke up with her and she’s been trying to get him back ever since.

 She’s obsessed with him, Emily. Like scary obsessed. So, if she found out you live with Tyler, she’s going to see you as a threat, whether you are one or not. Emily groaned and lay back on the grass, staring up at the blue sky through the oak leaves. I’m not a threat. Tyler can’t even stand being in the same room as me.

 He literally told me he has zero interest in me. Giana was quiet for a moment and then she said, “Sometimes the guys who say they have zero interest are the ones who have the most interest. They just don’t want to admit it.” Emily turned her head to look at her friend. That’s a very dangerous theory, Giana. I know, Giana said, grinning again.

That’s what makes it fun. Emily shook her head, but she was smiling, and they spent the next hour sitting under the oak tree, sketching in Giana’s book and talking about everything and nothing. It was the most peaceful Emily had felt since she arrived in this city. The piece lasted exactly until she got home that evening.

She walked into the penthouse at around 6:00, expecting the usual emptiness, but instead the apartment was full of people. Marco was standing by the kitchen island with a drink in his hand, talking to Luca, who was perched on one of the stools. There were two other guys Emily didn’t recognize sitting on the couch playing a video game on the massive flat screen TV.

 Music was playing from a speaker somewhere, and Tyler was there. He was leaning against the floor to ceiling window with a bottle of water in his hand, talking to a girl, a very pretty girl with long dark hair and a tiny red dress who was standing way too close to him and laughing at something he said while touching his arm.

 Emily stopped in the doorway and every good feeling she had built up during the day evaporated like morning dew. She watched Tyler smile at the girl, and it wasn’t the cold smirk he gave Emily. It was a real smile, warm and easy and devastating. And the girl was eating it up, leaning into him and flipping her hair and putting her hand on his chest.

Tyler didn’t push her away. He just stood there looking gorgeous and charming and completely different from the cold, distant man who had told Emily she was nothing. M Luca called from the kitchen island, waving her over. Come hang out. Emily forced a smile and walked over to the kitchen, keeping her eyes away from Tyler and the girl by the window.

 Hey, Luca. What’s going on? Just the team hanging out. Luca said, “We have our first game next week, and Marco likes to do these pre-season bonding things. Basically, we eat pizza and pretend to like each other.” Emily laughed and it was almost genuine. “Sounds fun.” “It will be now that you’re here,” Luca said, and he smiled at her in that warm, open way that made Emily feel seen.

 Actually seen, not invisible, not like a little sister, like a person. “Want a drink?” he asked. I’m making my famous virgin mojitos because Marco won’t let me drink during the season, which is a crime against humanity if you ask me. Sure, Emily said, and she sat down on the stool that next to him, and watched as he pulled out limes and mint and sparkling water.

 He was good at this, easy and comfortable in the kitchen, moving with a kind of relaxed grace that made everyone around him feel at ease. So, Emily Romano, Luca said as he muddled mint leaves, tell me about yourself and not the stuff I can Google. Tell me the real stuff. Emily looked at him surprised. What do you mean? I mean, what do you love? What do you dream about? What makes you Emily? And not just a Romano.

Emily stared at him and for a second she felt like she might cry because it was such a simple question. But nobody ever asked her that. Not her father, not her mother, not Marco, not Tyler, nobody. I love art, she said quietly. I love painting. I love the way colors can say things that words can’t. I love creating something from nothing.

 and I dream about having my own gallery someday, a place where people can come and see the world the way I see it. Luca stopped muddling and looked at her, and his brown eyes were soft and serious. That’s beautiful, Emily. That’s really beautiful. “Yeah,” she said, and she hated how small her voice sounded.

 “Yeah,” Luca said firmly. and anyone who doesn’t see how special that is doesn’t deserve to know you. The words hit Emily right in the center of her chest and she smiled a real smile and Luca smiled back and for a moment it was just the two of them in this little bubble of warmth and understanding. Then a voice cut through the moment like a knife. Luca, Marco wants you.

 Tyler was standing right behind Emily. She hadn’t heard him approach, and his sudden closeness made her spine go rigid. He was so close she could feel the heat from his body and smell his cologne, which was dark and woodsy and intoxicating, and she hated that she noticed. Luca looked up at Tyler and something passed between them, something tense and unspoken, a silent conversation that Emily couldn’t understand.

Marco’s right there, Luca said, nodding toward the living room where Marco was now talking to the other guys. He didn’t say anything to me. Well, I’m saying it, Tyler said, and his voice was low and controlled, but there was an edge to it. A sharp, dangerous edge that made the air feel thick.

 He wants to go over plays now. Luca looked at Tyler for a long moment. Then he looked at Emily, then back at Tyler, and then he smiled. It was a slow knowing smile that said, “I see exactly what’s happening here, even if you don’t.” “Sure thing, bro,” Luca said, standing up. He handed Emily her mojito and winked at her.

 “Don’t go anywhere, beautiful. I’ll be right back.” He walked toward the living room and Tyler watched him go with those dark green eyes and that clenched jaw and Emily had had enough. “You’re doing it again,” she said. Tyler looked down at her. “Doing what?” “That thing where you act like you don’t care about me, but then get weird every time another guy talks to me.

 You did it last night with Luca, and you’re doing it again right now. If you don’t want me, then fine. I accept that, but you don’t get to scare away every other guy who might actually be interested. Tyler’s eyes went wide for just a fraction of a second and then his face locked down tight. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said flatly.

“I was just delivering a message.” “There was no message, Tyler. Marco didn’t call him. You just didn’t like seeing him talk to me.” Tyler stepped closer and Emily’s breath caught because he was right there, right in her space. So close she could count the different shades of green in his eyes.

 So close she could see the tiny scar above his left eyebrow and the way his pupils were dilated and the way his chest was rising and falling just a little too fast for someone who claimed to feel nothing. Listen to me carefully, Emily,” he said, and his voice was barely above a whisper. “Whatever you think you see when you look at me, you’re wrong.

 I don’t get jealous. I don’t get attached. I don’t catch feelings for anyone, especially not my best friend’s little sister, who I’ve known for 2 days. You are reading into things that aren’t there, and you need to stop before you embarrass yourself.” Every word was designed to hurt, and they did. They cut deep.

 But Emily didn’t flinch because she was looking at his eyes, and his eyes were telling a completely different story than his mouth. His eyes were burning. “Then why are you breathing so hard?” she whispered. Tyler froze. His lips parted slightly and his green eyes dropped to her mouth for just a heartbeat.

 just one tiny fraction of a second, but Emily saw it, and Tyler knew she saw it. He stepped back like she had burned him, and his face went completely blank. “Stay away from me, Emily,” he said, and then he turned and walked back to the girl in the red dress and put his arm around her waist and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle.

Emily watched him and she felt something crack inside her chest. Not break, not yet, just crack, like a piece of glass that had been hit, but was still holding together. Barely. Luca appeared beside her and handed her a fresh drink. “You okay?” he asked gently. “I’m fine,” Emily said, and she took a long sip of the mojito.

And it was good. Really good. Luca. Yeah. Is Tyler always like this? Luca was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Tyler is the most complicated person I’ve ever met. He pushes everyone away because he’s terrified of letting anyone in. He’s been that way since his mom died.” Emily’s heart stopped. “His mom died?” Luca nodded and his usually cheerful face was somber.

Car accident. Tyler was 14. He was in the car with her. She died on impact. He walked away without a scratch, at least on the outside. Emily felt the ground shift beneath her. She looked across the room at Tyler, who was laughing with the girl in the red dress. And for the first time, she didn’t see the arrogant, cold heartbreaker that everyone else saw.

 She saw a boy who had lost his mother at 14. A boy who had survived something no child should ever have to survive. a boy who had built walls so high and so thick that nobody could get through. And she understood now why he had gotten quiet that morning in the kitchen when he said his mom went to Clear View.

 She understood why he said was instead of his. She understood why he pushed her away so hard because people who have lost the person they love the most learn very quickly that the safest thing to do is never love anyone again. Don’t tell him I told you,” Luca said quietly. “I won’t,” Emily said. And she stood there in the kitchen of her brother’s penthouse holding a virgin mojito and watching Tyler Castiano pretend to be happy.

 And she made a silent promise to herself. She wasn’t going to chase him. She wasn’t going to throw herself at him or beg for his attention or play the desperate girl who wanted the bad boy. But she wasn’t going to let him push her away either because Emily Romano knew what it was like to feel invisible. And she was starting to think that Tyler Castellano felt invisible, too.

 He just hid it better. Two weeks passed and Emily settled into a routine that was almost bearable. She woke up early every morning, went to her classes, came home, did her homework, and then spent the rest of her evening in the campus art studio with Giana painting until her fingers achd and her eyes burned.

 The art studio became her sanctuary. It was a big open room on the top floor of the humanities building with skylights that let in natural light during the day and huge fluorescent lamps that buzzed softly at night. There were easels and canvases and shelves stacked with every kind of paint and brush and tool you could imagine. It smelled like tarpentine and linseed oil and possibility.

 And every time Emily walked through the door, she felt the tight knot in her chest loosened just a little. She was working on a series of paintings that she hadn’t told anyone about. Not Giana, not Marco. Definitely not Tyler. The series was called Invisible, and it was about the feeling of being surrounded by people, but never really being seen.

The first painting was of a girl standing in the middle of a crowded ballroom, and everyone around her was in sharp, vivid color, but the girl herself was fading like she was made of smoke. The second was of the same girl sitting at a dinner table with a family who were all looking at each other, but never at her.

 The third was still just a sketch, but it was going to be of the girl standing in front of a door, and on the other side of the door was a pair of green eyes. Emily hadn’t meant to paint that one. Her hand had just moved on its own, and by the time she realized what she was drawing, it was too late to pretend it meant nothing.

 Living with Tyler was an exercise in emotional torture. True to his word, he kept the connecting door locked at all times, and he barely spoke to her. When they crossed paths in the kitchen or the living room, he would give her a short nod or a one-word greeting and then leave. He never called her Emily. It was always little sister or Romano or sometimes just a grunt of acknowledgement that barely qualified as human communication.

 But Emily noticed things. She noticed that no matter how early she woke up, Tyler was always awake before her. She noticed that he drank his coffee black with no sugar. She noticed that he had a scar on his right hand that ran from his knuckle to his wrist. She noticed that when he thought nobody was watching, he would stand by the big windows and stare out at the city with this look on his face that was so sad and so lost that it made Emily want to cross the room and touch his arm and tell him he wasn’t alone.

But she never did because Tyler had drawn a line and she was trying very hard to respect it even though every day that line got harder and harder to see. The other thing Emily noticed was that Tyler brought girls home. Not every night, but often enough that she lost count. She would hear them through the connecting door, laughing, giggling, sometimes other sounds that made Emily put her pillow over her head and turn up her music and pretend she didn’t feel like her chest was being squeezed by an invisible hand. She knew she had no

right to feel this way. Tyler wasn’t hers. He had never been hers. He had explicitly and repeatedly told her that he would never be hers. But the heart doesn’t listen to logic. And Emily’s heart was apparently very stupid because every time she heard a girl’s voice through that door, something inside her wilted like a flower without water.

 Meanwhile, Luca Vitelli was becoming a regular presence in Emily’s life, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Luca was everything Tyler wasn’t. He was warm and open and attentive. He texted her every morning with a funny meme or a sweet good morning message. He saved her a seat in the one class they shared together, which was introduction to economics.

 He brought her coffee from her favorite cafe without her even asking. He remembered that she liked caramel lattes with extra foam and that she hated raisins and that her favorite color was the particular shade of blue that the sky turns right before sunset. Luca was kind and Luca was present and Luca made Emily feel like she mattered and she would have been a fool not to appreciate that.

 But there was a problem, a big greeneyed problem. Because every time Luca made Emily laugh, she would catch Tyler watching from across the room. Every time Luca touched her arm or her shoulder or tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, Tyler’s jaw would clench and his eyes would go dark and he would leave the room without a word.

 He never said anything. He never confronted her. He just disappeared and came back hours later smelling like someone else’s perfume. And Emily would lie in her bed staring at the ceiling, wondering how one person could make her feel so much without ever saying a single kind word to her. It was a Thursday night when everything changed.

 Emily was in the art studio alone because Giana had a family dinner and couldn’t make it. The building was mostly empty because it was almost 10:00 and most students had gone home. Emily had her earbuds in and she was listening to a playlist of soft piano music and working on the third painting in her invisible series. The one with the green eyes behind the door.

She was mixing colors on her palette, trying to get the exact right shade of green. Not bright green, not dark green, the kind of green that looked like a forest after rain, deep and rich and full of shadows and secrets. She had been working on it for over an hour, and she still couldn’t get it right because no paint color in the world could capture the way Tyler Castellano’s eyes looked when he forgot to be cold.

 She was so focused on the painting that she didn’t hear the studio door open. She didn’t hear the footsteps on the concrete floor. She didn’t feel anyone watching her until a voice said, “That’s really good.” And Emily jumped so hard she knocked her pallet off the easel and sent paint flying everywhere, including all over her white t-shirt and her jeans and her arms.

 And somehow a streak of forest green ended up on her cheek. She spun around with her heart hammering and there was Tyler standing about 5 ft away with his hands in the pockets of his black jacket and his head tilted to the side looking at her painting. He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the painting.

 And the expression on his face was something Emily had never seen before. It was soft, open, almost vulnerable, like the painting had reached through all his walls and touched something real. “What are you doing here?” Emily said, and her voice was breathless, partly from the scare and partly from the fact that Tyler was here in her studio, in her space, the one place she had that was entirely hers.

Marco said you were here, Tyler said, still looking at the painting. He was worried because you weren’t answering your phone. Emily glanced at her phone on the table and saw six missed calls from Marco and three from Luca and one from a number she didn’t recognize. I had my earbuds in. I didn’t hear it. Obviously, Tyler said, and finally his eyes moved from the painting to her face, and something shifted in them when he saw the paint on her cheek and her messy hair and her stained clothes.

 His lips twitched. Not a smirk, almost a smile. A real one. “You’ve got paint on your face,” he said. “I’ve got paint everywhere,” Emily said, looking down at herself. “It happens when you scare someone who’s holding a pallet.” “Sorry,” Tyler said. And he actually sounded like he meant it, which was shocking because Tyler Castellano did not apologize for things.

He looked back at the painting and was quiet for a long moment. Emily watched him study it and she felt exposed in a way she had never felt before. This painting was personal. This painting was her heart on canvas. The girl standing at the door, reaching for it but not opening it.

 And behind the door, those green eyes looking back at her. Anyone could see those eyes were Tyler’s. The shade was too specific, too deliberate, too alive to be anyone else’s. She waited for him to say something cruel, something dismissive, something that would prove that he was the cold, heartless person he wanted everyone to believe he was.

The eyes, Tyler said quietly. They look trapped. Emily’s breath caught. What? The eyes behind the door. They’re not just watching. They’re trapped. Like they want to come through, but they can’t. Like the door isn’t keeping the girl out. It’s keeping whoever is behind it locked in. Emily stared at him, and her heart was beating so fast.

 She could feel it in her throat because he understood. He looked at her painting and he didn’t see pretty colors or nice technique. He saw the story. He saw the truth. He saw what she was trying to say without words. Yeah, she whispered. That’s exactly what it is. Tyler turned to look at her, and they were closer now than they had been since that first day.

 Close enough that Emily could see the gold flexcks in his green eyes and the tiny freckle below his left ear, and the way his dark hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck. Close enough to see that he wasn’t breathing steadily. close enough to see that his hands in his pockets were clenched into fists.

 “Who is it?” he asked, and his voice was rough. “Behind the door. Who is it?” It was the most dangerous question anyone had ever asked Emily, and the truth was right there on the tip of her tongue. “It’s you. It’s always been you. From the moment I saw you dripping wet with that stupid towel and those stupid green eyes, it’s been you and I. Don’t know why.

 Because you’ve done nothing but push me away and make me feel invisible, but somehow you’re the only person who actually sees me. That’s what she wanted to say. Instead, she said, “I don’t know yet.” Tyler looked at her and she could tell he didn’t believe her. His eyes searched her face the same way he had searched the painting, looking for the truth underneath the surface.

“You’re lying,” he said softly. “Maybe,” Emily said. “But you lie to me everyday, so I think we’re even.” Tyler’s eyes widened slightly, and then something broke through his expression. “Not anger, not coldness, something raw and honest and terrified.” I don’t lie to you, he said. You told me you have zero interest in me, Emily said, and her voice was barely a whisper now.

 You told me we would never be anything. You told me to stay away from you. And then you show up at my studio at 10:00 at night to check on me because I didn’t answer my phone. So, either you lied then or you’re lying now. But either way, Tyler, one of us is lying. The silence that followed was so heavy. Emily could feel it pressing against her skin.

 Tyler stared at her and she watched the war happening behind his eyes. She could see him fighting. Fighting against whatever he was feeling, fighting against the walls he had built, fighting against the promise he had made to himself to never let anyone in. Marco asked me to check on you, he said finally, and his voice was strained. That’s the only reason I’m here.

Okay, Emily said, and she turned back to her painting because if she kept looking at him, she was going to cry or scream or do something stupid like kiss him, and none of those options were good. She picked up her brush and dipped it in the green paint and tried to make her hands stop shaking.

 She expected to hear his footsteps walking away. She expected to hear the studio door open and close. She expected to be alone again because that was what Tyler did. He got close and then he ran. But the footsteps didn’t come. The door didn’t open. Instead, she heard a stool scraping against the concrete floor. And when she turned around, Tyler was sitting on it about 3 ft behind her with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands watching her. What are you doing?” she asked.

Marco said to bring you home safe, Tyler said, and his voice was carefully neutral. So, I’m waiting. You could wait outside. I could, he agreed, but he didn’t move. Emily turned back to her canvas and tried to focus, but her hand was still shaking and her heart was still racing and she could feel Tyler’s eyes on her back like a physical touch, warm and heavy and impossible to ignore.

She painted in silence for 20 minutes. Tyler didn’t speak. He didn’t look at his phone. He just sat there and watched her paint. And somehow it was the most intimate thing Emily had ever experienced. More intimate than any touch or kiss or whispered word because Tyler Castellano was giving her his attention.

 His real genuine undivided attention. And for a man who spent his whole life running from connection that was more valuable than any declaration of love. When she finally put down her brush and stepped back from the canvas, Tyler stood up from the stool. “Ready?” he asked. “Yeah,” Emily said. She cleaned her brushes and put away her paints and covered the canvas.

Tyler waited by the door, and when she reached them, he held it open for her, and she walked through and their arms brushed and electricity shot through Emily’s entire body. They walked across the dark campus in silence. The night air was cool and smelled like grass and autumn leaves, and the moon was full and silver above them, casting long shadows across the path.

Students passed by in small groups, laughing and talking, but Emily and Tyler moved through the night like they were in their own world, separate from everyone else, connected by something neither of them was ready to name. They were almost at the meridian when Tyler spoke. “Your paintings are really good, Emily.” He used her name.

 Not little sister, not Romano. Emily. And the way he said it, soft and low, like it was something precious, made her knees actually weak, which she had always thought was just something that happened in books. But apparently it was real and it was happening to her right now on a sidewalk at 10:30 at night next to a boy who was afraid of everything she made him feel.

 “Thank you,” she said, and her voice cracked a little, but she didn’t care. They took the elevator up in silence and walked into the penthouse. Marco was on the couch and he looked up when they came in. “There you are, M. I called you like 50 times.” My phone was on silent. Sorry. Marco looked at Tyler. Thanks for getting her, bro.

 No problem, Tyler said, and then he walked down the hallway without looking back and Emily heard his door close and then the lock on the connecting door click. She stood there in the living room with paint on her face and paint on her clothes and a heart that was so full of contradictions she didn’t know how to hold it all. Marco was saying something about being more careful with her phone, but Emily wasn’t listening.

 She was thinking about Tyler sitting on that stool watching her paint for 20 minutes without saying a word. She was thinking about the way he looked at her painting and saw the truth she had hidden in it. She was thinking about the way he said her name like it mattered. She went to her room and closed the door and pressed her back against it and slid down to the floor.

She sat there in the dark with her knees pulled to her chest and she pressed her hand against the connecting door. On the other side, she heard something that made her heart stop. A thump, like someone had pressed their hand against the same door from the other side. And then silence. Emily closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the cool wood, and she whispered so quietly that even she could barely hear it.

 I know it’s you behind the door, Tyler, and I know you’re trapped, but I’m not going anywhere. On the other side of the door, Tyler Castellano sat with his back against the wood and his hand pressed flat against it and his eyes closed and his heart hammering so hard it hurt. He had heard her. Every word, and for the first time in 5 years, the boy who had survived a car crash that killed his mother.

 The boy who had walked away without a scratch. The boy who had spent every day since then making sure he never felt anything ever again felt a tear roll down his cheek because Emily Romano was going to destroy him. And the terrifying part was that he was starting to think he wanted her to. The next three weeks were torture in the sweetest possible way.

 Something had shifted between Tyler and Emily that night at the art studio. And even though nothing had been said out loud, and nothing had been officially acknowledged, the air between them was different now. Charged, electric, like a wire that was pulled so tight it hummed. Tyler still called her little sister in front of Marco.

 He still kept his distance when other people were around. He still brought girls to the apartment, though Emily noticed it happened less and less. But there were moments, small, quiet, secret moments that nobody else saw. moments that Emily collected like precious stones and kept hidden in her heart where nobody could take them away.

Like the morning she came into the kitchen and found a caramel latte with extra foam sitting on the counter with a napkin underneath it. And on the napkin in messy handwriting were the words, “You left your wallet on the table, so I got this. Don’t read into it.” or the night she was studying late at the kitchen island and Tyler came out of his room at 2:00 in the morning and didn’t say a word but sat down across from her and opened his own textbook and studied with her in silence until she was done.

or the time she was on the phone with her father arguing about her grades because Dominic wanted straight A’s and Emily had gotten a B+ in economics and she was sitting in her room crying quietly into her pillow trying not to make any sound and she heard the connecting door unlock from Tyler’s side. He didn’t open it.

 He just unlocked it. And somehow that tiny gesture said more than a thousand words. He was telling her the door was open if she needed it. She didn’t go through it that night, but she slept better knowing it was unlocked. The problem was that the closer Emily and Tyler got to whatever this thing was between them, the more dangerous everything became.

Marco was watching. He wasn’t stupid. He had noticed the way Emily’s eyes tracked Tyler across every room. He had noticed the way Tyler’s whole body went still whenever Emily laughed. He had noticed the way they orbited each other like planets caught in each other’s gravity, pretending to be strangers, while the pull between them was so obvious that even Luca had started making comments.

You know, Luca said to Emily one afternoon when they were sitting in the campus cafe, “If you and Tyler keep pretending you don’t have feelings for each other, the sexual tension is going to literally set this building on fire, and I’m going to have to evacuate.” Emily choked on her latte. “There’s no sexual tension.

” Luca gave her the most dead pan look she had ever seen. Emily, sweetheart, light of my life. I say this with love. You are the worst liar I have ever met in my entire life. And I once watched a guy try to convince a cop that he wasn’t speeding while his tires were still smoking. Emily couldn’t help but laugh.

 It doesn’t matter how I feel, Luca. Tyler doesn’t want me. And even if he did, Marco would lose his mind. Marco would get over it. Luca said he’s protective, but he’s not unreasonable. If Tyler came to him like a man and said, “Hey, I have real genuine feelings for your sister, Marco would respect that. What Marco wouldn’t respect is sneaking around and lying.

 That would destroy their friendship.” “Nobody is sneaking around,” Emily said. “There’s nothing to sneak about.” Luca looked at her with those warm brown eyes that saw way too much. “Not yet,” he said quietly. But it’s coming, Emily. Whatever is between you two, it’s a train and it’s coming, and you can either get on it or get out of the way, but you cannot stop it.

” Emily stared at her coffee and didn’t say anything because deep down she knew Luca was right. It was coming. She could feel it building every day, like pressure behind a dam. Every stolen glance, every accidental touch, every unlocked door was adding weight and the dam was going to break. She just didn’t know when she found out on a Friday night.

 Marco was hosting a party at the penthouse. Not a big party, just the basketball team and some of their friends, maybe 30 people total. Emily hadn’t planned on attending because parties weren’t really her thing. But Giana had insisted, saying that Emily needed to get out of the art studio and have fun for once in her life. So Emily let Giana dress her up.

 Giana put her in a black dress that was simple but fit her perfectly, hugging her waist and falling just above her knees. It had thin straps and a low back, and it was the kind of dress that made Emily feel like a different person, a bolder person, a person who wasn’t invisible. Giana curled her long dark hair so it fell in loose waves down her back and did her makeup with smoky eyes and nude lips.

 And when Emily looked at herself in the mirror, she barely recognized the girl staring back at her. You look like a weapon, Giana said admiringly. I look like I’m trying too hard, Emily said nervously. You look like you’re about to end Tyler Castiano’s entire life, Giana corrected. Now, let’s go. They walked into the penthouse and the party was already in full swing.

 Music was playing loud and the lights were dim and people were everywhere talking and laughing and dancing. The city skyline glittered through the floor to ceiling windows like a million tiny stars. Emily scanned the room looking for Marco first because she always liked to know where her brother was at parties so she could strategically avoid him.

 She found him by the kitchen talking to a pretty brunette and looking surprisingly relaxed. Good. He was distracted. Then her eyes found Tyler and everything else disappeared. He was standing across the room with a group of guys from the team. He was wearing black jeans and a dark green button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows revealing his forearms and that scar on his right hand.

 His dark hair was styled but messy in that effortless way that drove Emily crazy, and his jaw was sharp with a day’s worth of stubble. and he was holding a drink and listening to whatever one of the guys was saying with a half smile on his face. Then he looked up. His green eyes swept the room casually like he was just scanning the crowd.

 But then they found Emily and they stopped. The half smile dropped off his face. His hand tightened around his glass. His whole body went completely still like he had been turned to stone. And Emily watched his eyes move down from her face to her neck to her shoulders to the black dress to her waist to her legs to her heels and then slowly back up again.

 And by the time his eyes reached her face again, they were on fire. Not cold, not distant, not empty, on fire. Burning green flames that Emily could feel from across the room. She held his gaze, and neither of them moved, and the party went on around them, but they were frozen in this moment. This terrible, beautiful, dangerous moment where the truth was right there in his eyes for anyone to see.

 Then Valentina Greco appeared out of nowhere. She materialized at Tyler’s side like a ghost in a tight red dress with her platinum hair flowing and her ice blue eyes sharp. and she put her hand on Tyler’s arm and leaned into him and the spell shattered. Tyler blinked and looked away from Emily and something cold washed over his face like a mask being pulled back into place.

Emily felt the loss of his gaze like a physical blow, like someone had ripped a warm blanket off her in the middle of winter. “Come on,” Jana said, tugging her arm. “Let’s get a drink and mingle. Stop staring at him. I wasn’t staring. Emily said, “Girl, you were staring so hard.

 I’m surprised he didn’t catch fire.” “Well, more on fire than he already was because that man looked at you like you were the only person in this room. And I need you to know that I have never in my life seen Tyler Castellano look at anyone like that.” Emily’s heart was hammering, but she let Giana pull her toward the kitchen where Luca was already mixing drinks and looking delighted to see them.

“Emily Romano,” Luca said, and he let out a low whistle. “You look incredible. If Tyler doesn’t make a move tonight, I’m going to make one myself, and I’m only half joking.” Emily laughed and took the drink he offered her and tried to relax. She talked to Giana and Luca and met some of the other players on the team who were all nice enough.

 She danced a little when Giana dragged her to the makeshift dance floor in the living room. She smiled and laughed and pretended to have fun, but the whole time she was aware of Tyler. She could feel him watching her. Every time she turned her head, she would catch a flash of green eyes before he looked away. Every time Luca made her laugh, she would see Tyler’s jaw clench from across the room.

 Every time she danced, she could feel his gaze on her bare back like a brand. It was almost midnight when Emily needed air. The apartment was hot and loud, and she was tired of pretending, and she was tired of the push and pull, and she was tired of feeling everything so intensely that her chest hurt. She slipped out onto the balcony, which was a large terrace with a glass railing that overlooked the city.

 The night air was cold and sharp, and Emily leaned against the railing and breathed it in and let the wind cool her flushed skin. The city was spread out below her like a carpet of lights, and the moon was a silver sliver above the skyline, and for a moment everything was quiet and peaceful. Then the balcony door opened and closed behind her and she didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

 She could feel him. She could always feel him. You should go back inside, Tyler said, and his voice was low and rough and closer than she expected. It’s cold out here. I’m fine, Emily said, not turning around. You don’t look fine. How would you know? You’ve been ignoring me all night. I haven’t been ignoring you, Tyler said, and something in his voice cracked.

 Just barely, just enough. I’ve been trying not to look at you. There’s a difference. Emily turned around and Tyler was right there, 2 ft away, close enough to touch. And the look on his face was something she had never seen before. It was raw and open and desperate and terrified all at the same time. His green eyes were glassy, and his jaw was tight, and his hands were at his sides, clenched into fists, like he was holding himself back from something with every ounce of strength he had.

“Why?” Emily whispered, “Why are you trying not to look at me?” “Because,” Tyler said, and his voice broke on the word. “Because when I look at you, Emily, I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t remember any of the reasons why this is a bad idea. And there are so many reasons. Marco is my best friend. Your father would destroy me.

 I’m not good enough for you. I’m broken and I’m messed up. And I don’t know how to love anyone without losing them. And I can’t lose anyone else. Emily, I can’t. I barely survived losing my mom. If I let myself have you and then I lose you, it will kill me. It will actually kill me. Tears were streaming down Emily’s face, and she didn’t care.

 She didn’t wipe them away. She let them fall because Tyler Castellano was standing in front of her with his walls down for the first time, and she was not going to miss a single second of it. “Tyler,” she said, and her voice was shaking. “You’re not going to lose me.” “You can’t promise that,” he said, and his voice was a whisper. Now, nobody can promise that.

My mom promised she’d always be there and then she was gone. One second, she was holding my hand and singing along to the radio. And the next second there was glass everywhere and blood everywhere and silence. So much silence, Emily. And I’ve been living in that silence ever since. Emily stepped forward and reached up and put her hands on his face.

 His skin was warm and rough with stubble, and she could feel his jaw trembling under her palms. His eyes closed at her touch, and a sound came out of him that was somewhere between a breath and a sob. And it was the most heartbreaking thing Emily had ever heard. Look at me,” she said softly. And he opened his eyes, and they were wet and red and so green and so beautiful that Emily felt her whole world tilt on its axis.

I’m not going to promise you forever because you’re right. Nobody can do that. But I can promise you right now. I can promise you this moment. And I can promise you that I see you, Tyler. Not the version you show everyone else. Not the player. Not the heartbreaker. Not Marco’s best friend. I see you.

 The real you. The boy who lost his mom and survived. The boy who sat in my studio and watched me paint for 20 minutes because he didn’t want me to be alone. The boy who unlocked a door because he knew I was crying on the other side. I see you and you are not broken. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. and I’m an artist, so I’ve seen a lot of beautiful things.

” Tyler stared at her, and his hands came up slowly like he was moving through water, and they settled on her waist, and his fingers gripped the fabric of her dress like he was holding on for dear life. “Marco is going to kill me,” he whispered. “Maybe,” Emily said. “But that’s a problem for tomorrow.” And then Tyler Castellano kissed her.

 He kissed her like a man who had been drowning for 5 years, and she was his first breath of air. His hands pulled her close, and her hands slid into his hair, and their bodies pressed together, and the kiss was desperate and tender and fierce and gentle all at the same time. He tasted like mint and something warm, and his lips were soft.

 But his grip on her waist was hard, and Emily kissed him back with everything she had. Every lonely night, every ignored phone call from her father, every time someone looked through her like she wasn’t there, every painting she had ever made, trying to express what it felt like to be invisible.

 She poured it all into this kiss. And Tyler took it all. He took every broken piece of her and held it like it was precious. And Emily felt for the first time in her life like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. They broke apart, breathing hard, and Tyler pressed his forehead against hers, and his eyes were still closed, and his hands were shaking.

 “I’m so scared,” he whispered. “Me, too,” Emily said. “But I’d rather be scared with you than safe without you.” Tyler opened his eyes and looked at her, and slowly then a corner of his mouth lifted. Not a smirk, not the cold, arrogant mask he wore for the rest of the world. A real smile, small and uncertain and beautiful. You’re going to be the death of me, Emily Romano, he said. Good, she said.

At least you’ll die happy. He laughed. And it was a real laugh. Full and deep and warm. And it was the best sound Emily had ever heard in her life. He pulled her into his arms and held her against his chest and she pressed her ear against his heart and listened to it beat fast and strong and alive. They stood there on the balcony wrapped in each other with the city glittering below them and the cold wind swirling around them and the party going on inside.

 And neither of them cared about anything except this. This moment, this feeling, this terrifying, beautiful beginning. We have to tell Marco, Tyler said into her hair. I know. He’s going to punch me. Probably. Worth it, Tyler said. And he tilted her chin up and kissed her again, soft and slow this time, savoring it, like he wanted to memorize the taste of her, like he wanted to make sure it was real.

The balcony door opened. Hey, M. Have you seen my Marco’s voice cut off like someone had hit the mute button? Emily and Tyler jumped apart and turned to see Marco standing in the doorway with a drink in one hand and his phone in the other and an expression on his face that cycled through about 15 emotions in 3 seconds.

 Confusion, shock, disbelief, anger, more anger, even more anger, and then something that might have been hurt. What the hell? Marco said, and his voice was dangerously quiet. Marco, Tyler said, stepping forward with his hands up. Let me explain. Explain, Marco repeated, and his dark eyes were blazing. Explain why you’re kissing my sister on my balcony at my party after I specifically told you she was off limits.

 After you looked me in the eye and told me you had zero interest in her. after I trusted you, Tyler. I trusted you with the one person in this world I would do anything to protect. Marco, please, Emily said, and she could hear the desperation in her own voice. This isn’t Tyler’s fault. I don’t, Marco said, holding up his hand.

 And Emily flinched because her brother had never spoken to her like that before. Never with that much ice in his voice. Go inside, Emily, now.” >> And she stepped forward and stood next to Tyler, shoulderto-shoulder. And something about that simple act of standing beside him instead of behind him made Marco’s eyes widen.

>> I’m not going inside, Marco. I’m not a child, and you don’t get to send me to my room. I know you’re angry, and I understand why, but you need to listen to me. Tyler didn’t pursue me. He didn’t trick me. He didn’t seduce me. He spent weeks pushing me away. Weeks telling me he wasn’t interested.

 Weeks trying to keep this from happening because he loves you, Marco. You’re his brother, his family, and the last thing he ever wanted was to hurt you. But feelings don’t follow rules. They don’t care about boundaries or promises or what makes logical sense. I have feelings for Tyler and he has feelings for me. And we can either deal with that like adults or you can punch him and I can cry and we can all pretend this never happened.

 But it did happen and I’m not sorry. >> The balcony was silent except for the wind and the muffled music from inside. Marco stared at Emily and then he looked at Tyler and his jaw was so tight. Emily could see the muscles jumping under his skin. Is this real? Is she real to you? Because if this is just another game, Tyler, if she’s just another girl to you, I swear on everything. She is not.

Sure. She’s not just another girl. Marco, she’s not a game. She’s the first person who’s ever seen me. Really seen me the broken parts and the ugly parts and the scared. And she didn’t run. She stayed. She painted my eyes behind a door. And she told me I wasn’t broken. And she made me feel something I haven’t felt since my mom died.

 She made me feel like maybe it’s okay to let someone in. Maybe it’s okay to stop running. Maybe it’s okay to be happy. Marco’s face crumbled, not into anger, but into something softer. Something that looked a lot like the brother Emily remembered from childhood. The one who held her when she had nightmares and told her the monsters weren’t real.

You should have told me. Both of you should have come to me. I know. I was afraid. >> Afraid of what? >> I’m afraid of losing you. You are the only family I have. Marco and your crazy, overprotective father, your sweet mother, and your annoying, perfect sister. You guys took me in when my mom died.

 You gave me a home when I didn’t have one. And I thought if I told you how I felt about Emily, you would think I was betraying that betraying you.” Marco was quiet for a long time. The wind blew and the city hummed and Emily held her breath. Then Marco walked forward and he did something that nobody expected. He pulled Tyler into a hug. A real hug.

 Hard and tight and full of all the things two guys who grew up like brothers couldn’t say with words. Tyler froze for a second and then his arms came up and he hugged Marco back and Emily pressed her hand over her mouth because she was crying again. If you heard her, Marco, I will end you. And that’s not a threat. That’s a promise from your best friend who also happens to be the son of Dominic Romano.

>> Understood, Marco. And you, if you hurt him, I’ll be very disappointed because Tyler pretends to be tough, but he’s actually a giant softy. And I’ve been waiting for someone to crack through that stupid wall of his for 5 years. Emily launched herself at her brother and hugged him so tight he laughed and said, >> “Okay, I can’t breathe.

Thank you, Marco. >> Don’t thank me. Thank Luca. He’s been telling me for weeks that this was coming and that I needed to get over myself. I didn’t believe him until right now. I need a drink. A real one. Season be damned. >> I walked inside and the balcony door closed behind him. And Emily and Tyler were alone again.

Tyler looked at Emily and she looked at him and then they both started laughing. The kind of laughter that comes from relief and joy and the release of weeks of tension and fear and wanting. >> That went better than I expected. >> You expected him to punch you? >> I expected him to throw me off the balcony.

 The fact that I’m still alive is a win. Tyler pulled back and looked at her, and his green eyes were clear and warm and full of something that Emily had only ever seen in paintings, something she had spent her whole life trying to capture on canvas, something that no amount of paint or skill or technique could ever truly replicate because it was alive and real and right here in front of her.

 And from now, I have stopped running. I have stopped hiding and stopped pretending I don’t feel things and I will spend all my days making sure that you don’t feel invisible again. >> Emily smiled and it was the kind of smile that comes from somewhere deep inside from a place that had been dark for a very long time and was finally finally filled with light.

 go around >> and I’ll paint you not behind a door this time. Standing right next to me where you belong. >> Tyler kissed her one more time, soft and slow and sweet under the silver moon with the city alive below them. And Emily Romano, the girl who had been invisible her whole life, finally felt seen. 6 months later, Emily held her first art exhibition in the small gallery space at Westfield University.

 She had fought for it, written proposals, begged the art department, even got Diana to start a petition that got 200 signatures. The exhibition was called Visible, and it featured 12 paintings that told the story of a girl who went from invisible to seen, from alone to loved, from silent to heard. The first painting was the girl in the ballroom fading like smoke.

 The last painting was of two people standing side by side in front of an open door with light pouring through it. The boy had green eyes. The girl had paint on her hands and they were looking at each other like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Dominic Romano flew in for the exhibition. He stood in front of that last painting for 10 minutes without saying a word.

I’m sorry I tried to keep you from this. You were born to do this, sweetheart. >> Her mother cried. Isabella cried. Marco pretended he didn’t cry, but Luca took a video of him wiping his eyes and sent it to the group chat. Giana sold three of her own paintings that she had snuck into the exhibition, which Emily pretended to be annoyed about, but was secretly thrilled.

and Tyler. Tyler stood in the corner of the gallery, watching Emily shine, watching her talk to guests and explain her work and laugh with Giana and hug her parents. He watched her be everything she was always meant to be. Bright and bold and visible. Luca walked up and stood next to him. >> You okay, bro? >> Yeah, I’m really okay.

 She’s something else. Yeah, she is really everything. >> Later that night, after the gallery had emptied and the lights had been dimmed and everyone had gone home, Emily and Tyler stood alone in front of the last painting, the one of the two people and the open door. Tyler put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.

You know, I used to think that door was keeping me locked in, that I was trapped behind it, and I’d never get out. >> And what about now? >> Tyler looked down at her with those green eyes, those forest after rain eyes, those eyes that had been painted and loved and seen. >> Now, I know you were never trying to open the door from the outside.

You were showing me I had the key the whole time. I just had to be brave enough to use it. Emily smiled and leaned into him. And they stood there in the quiet gallery, surrounded by paintings that told their story. The story of a girl who wanted to be seen and a boy who was afraid to be found. And the moment they both realized that the scariest thing in the world isn’t loving someone, the scariest thing is having someone right there ready to love you and being too afraid to let them.

But they weren’t afraid anymore. and the door between them was wide open. Thank you for watching Mr.