The second day in Disney World, a baby spit up down my back in line for Frozen Ever After.

Naturally, my friends laughed and teased me about it for the rest of our day in EPCOT. Even Major, three thousand miles away, found the story hilarious.

Between that incident and the rising heat of Florida in summer, I was grateful to leave the park for dinner. My friends even let me pick the restaurant, so we drove to the nearest Shake Shack.

While Brook ordered for the group, Clay and I picked a secluded booth in the corner of the restaurant. Being out with Rye seemed to intimidate him less as the day went on, but I knew the small chance of being recognized still frightened him.

He let me slide into the booth first, offering me a beautiful view of the moon against the sky through the window.

"You okay, Nala?" he asked after a few minutes of silence, his hand closing around mine in my lap.

The simple act made me grin like a fool, barely able to form coherent sentences. "What? Yeah—Yes, I'm fine."

He lifted an eyebrow, his lips fighting his own wide smile.

"I am," I assured him, squeezing his hand. "Just thinking is all."

"About?"

"You, us, the future, everything," I rattled off, getting lost in his eyes. I was sure they cast a hypnotic spell on me because I couldn't look away, or lie.

"Future us, huh?" he teased, rubbing his thumb against my hand. "Is that what you want?"

Burning hot and surely red, I covered my cheeks, muttering a weak, "Yes."

"I do, too," he whispered, though his voice was clear and steady. "We should probably talk about—"

"I swear, they need to lower the minimum wage," Brook huffed, slamming her drink on the table. "I mean, how hard is it to type on a screen?"

Shaking her head, she sat on the inside to face me, steam practically shooting from her ears. "Lani, you won't believe what happened."

I only half-listened to the next ten minutes of her rant. I used to believe Brook was simply opinionated, but if the past few weeks taught me anything it was that she was entitled. She believed the world should bow down to her.

And I wasn't sure it was a character trait she'd ever grow out of.

Beside her, Rye slurped on his milkshake, asking Clay borderline invasive questions between sips.

Every once in a while, I'd feel a gentle squeeze on my hand—Clay's way of saying "Help."

I'd steer their conversation back to Rye, asking him about Twitch, gaming, and funny bartending stories. I had to distract him at least six times throughout dinner, but I didn't mind a bit. I was glad to come to Clay's rescue for once.

It finally felt like what Bad had told me was true—Clay needed me.

Though, I knew I needed him just as much. I loved how I felt when I was with him, the person he brought out of me. I never wanted to stop feeling that, but I knew I would.

There was one day left in Orlando, one day left with Clay. The mere thought made my heart sink, made me go quiet with sadness, and Clay noticed.

He reached over the center console, taking one of my shaking hands. "Lani, what's wrong?"

He had offered to drive me back to the hotel himself, which Brook couldn't help but coo over. What she didn't know was that he needed a break from her and Rye.

I shook my head, fighting tears.

"Please, talk to me." His voice cracked, his worry evident.

"I'm afraid . . ."

"Of what?"

"Of being alone."

His shoulders relaxed, but his grip on my hand tightened. "You aren't, not even close."

"Even when I move and start all over in another city?"

"Especially then." He pulled to a red light, and when he turned to look at me, his eyes were fierce. Their green rings were piercing, reflecting his deepest emotions. "You'll have me and Nick, not to mention the rest of our stupid crew. Nala, you'll have me."

"I'll have you," I echoed, the words calming me yet exciting me at the same time.

Clay smiled, and I saw it all—I wasn't the only one who felt it. Two days with him, watching him smile and feeling his hand in mine, and I knew it was real.

In that moment, the fear melted away, replaced by a burning excitement for the future. And the burning urge to tell him what I'd been truly afraid of. To tell him that I didn't know love until I met him.

"Clay, I have to tell you something."

His focus returned to the road, but his smile didn't falter. "I do, too."

My heart skipped a beat.

"But I have a question first."

"Yeah?" I covered the nervous crack in my voice with a cough, which Clay saw right through and chuckled.

"Why did you love Rye?"

His question took me aback. I almost shut down the conversation there, but the genuine curiosity in his voice made me pause. There wasn't a hint of malice or judgment; he simply wanted to know.

And I couldn't deny him an answer, even if it wasn't simple.

"I guess because he's everything I miss about myself, from before my dad died and before . . . before the worst day of my life." I spoke through the beginnings of tears, fear from that night and of his reaction hitting at the same time. I'd never openly told him how messed up I was—one of the biggest reasons I clung to Rye, and Brook.

The warmth of his hand traveled up my arm, encouraging me to continue.

I breathed in deeply, staring out into the night. "The night of senior prom—well, the afterparty anyway—I drank too much. Rye wanted me to play beer pong with him, and since I did whatever he asked back then, I agreed. We played at least six rounds and many beer bottles later, I found myself in one of the guest rooms . . . and I wasn't alone."

His grip grew rigid, telling me he already knew where this was going.

"The details are foggy, but I remember the fear vividly. I remember trying to fight but ultimately being powerless against him." I shuddered at the memory, feeling his hands in place of Clay's.

I was seventeen again, slighter and smaller, with doe eyes and an innocent outlook on life. I was in that room again, trapped against someone older, someone I trusted. I was helpless again, pleading for someone, anyone.

"I'm here," Clay whispered, his voice cutting through the memory like a sword. "You're safe."

My prince.

I took a shaky breath, clinging to his hand like it was a lifeline. "Brook stormed in first, then Major. Then there was a lot of shouting, and people—Major must've called for the entire baseball team.

"He was gone in minutes, and I never saw him again. Though, on my bad days, I see him everywhere," I admitted, remembering the last time I visited Brook at work. "Sometimes, it feels like I'll never be free of him."

"You will."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I'll make sure of it."

If my heart had wings, it would've soared at his words.

"Clay, I . . ." I ached to say more, but the way he looked at me, hopefully expecting, made me pause. "I just want to say thank you . . . for not judging me."

"Always," he said, "I'd do anything for you."

I cleared my throat. "So, to answer your question, I loved Rye because he was the only one who didn't see me like that. He became this—I don't know—symbol. When I looked at him, I didn't think about that night. When I looked at him, I wasn't a victim."

I saw the gears turn in his head before he asked, "What do you see now? When you look at him?"

"Nothing," I said. "He shredded the image I had of him when we fought. I haven't seen him the same way since."

"In a way, I'm glad."

I laughed, despite the situation. "Why?"

Clay smiled, too. "Because it's hard to woo a girl who's in love with someone else."

"So, you're trying to woo me?"

He looked over at me, eyes full of unashamed emotion—of pure love. "With everything I've got."

I only hoped mine reflected the same.

"I'm glad I don't see him that way, either."

"Yeah?"

I nodded. "He was my reason to smile for so long, but you . . . you're the reason I'm happy."

He didn't fight his grin. "Good. You deserve to be happy."

"You know, I'm finally starting to believe that."

↠

I woke up the next morning feeling lighter than I had in years. With everything on the table, the last wall between Clay and me had fallen. He knew the deepest pain I carried, and he wanted to share the burden. He offered me his strength and promised that I'd never have to brave this alone again.

I longed to tell him how I felt, that it was more than anything I'd imagined. Fear got the better of me the night before, but I knew the secret would pour out on our last day.

And I was okay with that.

Our group met early for breakfast in Disney's Hollywood Studios. After some deliberation, we agreed on the Trolley Car Café.

Brook was ecstatic because the café was practically a Disney-run Starbucks. The menu listed her favorite drinks and food, so she suggested most of what we ordered.

To her credit, the food was delicious.

After breakfast, Clay and I walked hand-in-hand to the Indiana Jones ride in Echo Lake. I heard Brook's giggles behind us, and I knew Clay did too, but we ignored her. Neither of us wanted to spend our last day together worrying about Brook's opinion.

The four of us spent the first half of the day together, and it wasn't entirely unbearable. Brook and Rye kept their bickering to a minimum for Clay's sake—it almost felt like they hadn't broken up at all.

Their current relationship, or lack thereof, was a mystery to me. Though she said she'd move into my room, Brook still hadn't spent a night in the extra twin bed. My curiosity, and Clay's, was beginning to get the best of me.

Before the split after lunch, I pulled Brook aside to ask her.

"It's complicated," she said, shrugging. "Six years together doesn't just poof disappear."

"But you're broken up?"

"Officially, yes."

"And unofficially?"

She only winked, and I had more than enough information.

When I relayed it to Clay, he gave me the same look I gave Brook.

"Then what's the point in breaking up?" he asked, his free hand pinching the bridge of his nose. "And she knows he likes you?"

I bit my lip, nodding slowly.

"I thought she was pissed and wanted to 'find herself'?" He blinked at me. "What happened to that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"People are weird," he sighed. "This is why I don't leave the house."

"No, you don't leave because you're faceless."

"Not for long."

"You're revealing?" I stared at him in shock, my eyes wide.

"George is moving in next month," he said through a smile.

I leaped into his arms, tightly threading mine around his neck. "Clay, that's great!"

Chuckling, he caught me easily, steading me so our faces were a breath apart. "Hi."

"Hi," I giggled.

"You'll get to meet him, too." He gently set me down, but kept his arms securely around me. "He and Nick are jealous that I got to meet you first."

I rested my hands on his biceps, pleased by the muscle pulsing against my fingertips. "I was friends with you first, though."

"That's what I said!"

Laughing together, he told me about the group's plans for the future. He seemed most excited for real-life content, and I didn't blame him. Being faceless for so long must've driven him crazy when his friends were able to meet and have fun together easily. He told me how he spent most of his time with Nick, sitting with him while he played games or watching football together. He also mentioned how he had to cook because Nick didn't know how to, which at least gave Clay another thing to do in the house.

I felt bad for him, not being able to share experiences with his friends because of his decision to stay faceless. It weighed on him more than he let on, but I saw some of that lift in his days in Disney World.

For once, he didn't have to worry.

I was proud to be the person he shared his brief freedom with.

Before we knew it, the park was closing. A shared sadness fell between us—we knew what it meant, but neither one of us wanted to say it out loud.

"I'm sad we couldn't see all the parks," I said instead. "It feels like the trip was way too short."

"When you move here, we'll come back," he said definitely, swinging our hands.

I stared up at him. "Really?"

"Why not?" He shrugged. "Disney World is basically in our backyard."

I smiled. "It's a date."

Brook and Rye were already waiting when we found the car. Both looked exhausted from the day, their impatience growing when we stopped a few feet away.

I told Clay to ignore their glares, that they were pre-emptively cranky for driving back to Miami early the next morning.

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Even in the dim light, I could see the green, its sad darkness.

I gently squeezed his hands, my eyebrows knit. "Clay, what's wro—?"

"Nalani, I love you."

I stared at him, speechless.

"I know you're scared to say it, and maybe even more so to hear it, but I need you to know before you leave. It's you, Nala, because it doesn't work with anyone else. Believe me, I tried. I thought it was just infatuation because it was new and different. But it's not. God, Nala, I'm so in love with you that nothing else makes sense."

"Clay—"

"I'm not expecting anything from you. I know you've been through hell, and part of that is because of me. I just want you to know that I'm here and I'm yours. My heart, my mind, my everything—it's all yours."

He took a moment to breathe, though it looked like the last thing he wanted to do. He seemed hyper aware of everything I did—the rapid rise and fall of my own chest, the slight twitch of my lips, the gentle flutter of my lashes.

Yet he hardly registered when I tugged on his arms and lowered him to me.

Our lips met in the faintest whisper of a kiss, uncertain and shallow. I almost pulled back in fear, but he wouldn't let me. He was frozen, locked around me.

Until he was kissing me back without hesitation.

Kissing him felt like a million electric shocks, an explosion of emotions and desires. I had loved before, deeply and truly, but Clay made those feel like fractions of the real thing. I had kissed before, but never experienced a kiss that burned me from the inside out.

I didn't have to open my eyes to whisper, "I love you, Clay."

"Finally," he breathed against my lips, and connected them again in a fiery dance.

It didn't matter to us who saw. The world around us had faded, and all that was left was each other, this kiss. A single thought popped into my mind, interrupting the timeless bliss he put me into. But I welcomed it, letting it stoke the flames and build my love for him.

When I kissed Clay, I could only think: We get to tell our kids we fell in love Once Upon a Stream.

and that's a wrap.