Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)

by Liz Tomforde

Here’s to the 10 characters, 5 couples, 3 teams, 2 sets of siblings, and 1 amazing friend group that changed my life. This one is dedicated to you, the readers. Thank you for hanging out in Chicago with me.

Because she’s not her. No one else has been.

My heart flutters like it used to before I remember everything that happened. Because I may have loved Rio DeLuca once, but I don’t anymore.

Well, that was easy. Just last night I was praying for a new friend, and here she is.

“I pick a song when something cool or important happens so I can remember it. Then when I want to relive a moment, I rewind it back and start the song from the beginning.”

When I was a teenager, I remember feeling like I’d kill to have her eyes on me, but I don’t let myself want that anymore.

She used to steal all my thoughts. She used to occupy my entire existence. I almost forgot what that felt like. I’ve spent six years subconsciously comparing every date to her. Comparing their laugh to hers. Their kindness to hers. Their confidence to hers. Their taste in music to hers.

I haven’t spoken Hallie’s name in six years, but she has been living rent free in my mind while I try to replicate what we had before everything went to shit.

That thing I’ve been looking for since I moved to Chicago? That connection? That one person some search their entire lives to find? I had already found her when I was twelve years old. At least, I thought I had. I know what I’m looking for because I had it once, and now the only girl I’ve ever loved is moving into the house next to mine. Again.

“The guy you were with tonight.” I slowly shift back to face her. “Who was he?” The set in her jaw is evident even from here. “Not your job to worry about.” Nodding, I turn back to my house, hands casually tucked in my pockets as I continue to walk. With my back to her, I make sure my words are loud enough for her to hear them. “Lose him.”

Those green eyes soften, searching mine, and I swear I see him. The person I was most comfortable with. The one who

knew what I needed without me having to ask. The person who knew me better than I sometimes knew myself.

I simply spent the last six years living in a delusional state of denial, telling myself I wasn’t hurt over it all, while subconsciously comparing everyone to our relationship because that’s what I was looking for.

“Well, maybe that was the first time you were told, but I know for a fact it wasn’t the first time someone liked you.”

if I were braver, I’d ask him what he means. But I’m not. I don’t ask for clarification and instead, decide to overthink that single sentence for the rest of my life.

When I look at Hallie, all I see is the girl from my past, my literal favorite person. But then I remember that she’s not her anymore, I’m no longer that same guy, and that pisses me off.

“You used to be my best friend, and yeah, we haven’t seen each other since then, but I’d rather hold on to the memory of the sweet neighbor boy I

loved than replace it with this version of you.”

Today’s meeting only made me miss him. The old him. But he made it perfectly clear that version no longer exists.

Slowly, I put my palm in his again, and contrary to the last, this handshake is quick and friendly. “Friends,” I agree. Feels wrong. Tastes like a lie.

“Yeah, well you’re not his, so tell him to keep his hands to himself too.” Her eyes drop to my mouth. “I’m not yours either.” We’ll see.

“You sure look good in my shirt for not being mine.” “Get fucked, DeLuca.” I smile as I open the door. “Would love to. You just let me know when and where, Hart.”

Eventually, she rests her arm on the console between us and holy hell, the nostalgia from that image alone is strong, remembering the first time I had the courage to hold her hand while driving her home much in the way I am now.

I haven’t said anything to her about how I feel, but she’s my favorite person.

A few months after Hallie got that boombox for her thirteenth birthday,

asked for the same for mine, simply so I could listen to her yearly mixtapes in my room. And now, they play on repeat in the truck. Because yes, I have a huge freaking crush on the girl and want to know about all the songs that represent important moments in her life.

Anger towards me, that her life has been harder than it was supposed to be, harder than I told her it would be. Anger that she’s working two jobs and brutal hours to make ends meet because I left and didn’t take her with me when I promised I would.

And apparently, I’m a masochist because I’m asking him to hurt me by telling me all about the women who came after me.

Sleeping like this, he looks exactly like the boy who I found asleep on my floor more nights than not.

It’s the first time we’ve hugged since seeing each other again, and with my nose buried in his chest, I can’t help but take a dragging inhale. He smells like him. The old him. Because this man is still that same boy I once loved.

They have no idea how often we meet on the roof, where she lays on my chest and I play with her hair while we simply talk.

I have this strange urge to cry because it feels so foreign, yet at the same time, simple, having someone else look out for you. To care about the things that you might need, including

“Thank you,” I tell him. “That…” “Felt exactly how it’s supposed to,” he finishes. I don’t ask him to elaborate if that sentence should end with “between us,” because we truly do have so much good history when we ignore the bad, or if he means in general. That it felt exactly how it’s supposed to with “your person.”

“You single, Hal?” I finally give him the long-awaited answer, nodding to tell him yes. “Good.” He takes a slow predatorial step towards me, tone sharp and leaving no room for question. “Because we aren’t fucking friends.”

With that declaration, he grips the side of my neck and slams his mouth onto mine. Startling, the only sensation is warmth. Warmth from his mouth on mine. Warmth from the overwhelming presence of his body and the desperation in which he’s kissing me. Because it is desperate. It’s needy and it’s wanting. It feels like there are six years of wanting wrapped into this kiss. He gives me a moment to catch on to what’s happening, for me to part my lips and ask for more. And when I do, when I give in to him, it becomes all-consuming, every one of my senses ramping up to ten.

That armor I’ve worn to protect myself from him has been growing weaker every day, and this, combined with that kiss last night, isn’t helping the cause.

you’re a grown-ass man now, Rio. At a certain point, our parents’ opinions can’t be more important than our own.”

There’s this nagging part of me that’s questioning whether the homesickness I’ve felt for years now has been for Boston or if it’s actually been for her.

Would you ever want to try again with me?” My heart is physically cracking at his sweet words, at the soft way he says them.

He was a part of all my best memories this year, just like he is most years. Any memories I wish I could rewind

and relive are all the ones he and I have had over the years, growing up together. Learning each other. Falling for each other.

“Hallie, do you know why I’m not scared?” He holds up the mix CD. “It’s because I know I’ve got a lifetime of getting these from you. We’ve got a lifetime of best moments ahead of us.”

I tossed my own copies years ago. Partly out of anger, and partly because I no longer recognized the hopeful girl who once saw the good in everything.

Something so small. So seemingly unimportant. But it wasn’t. None of it was.

All my best memories. He kept them. He listens to them still.

For so long, I held on to every little detail of our relationship, replaying them in

my mind on a loop. I cherished the smallest moments we had together. Even at my lowest points, I was grateful that I got to be loved like that at least once in my life. I never forgot him....

“Hallie, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

The things I was angry at her for so long seem impossibly inconsequential now. I was holding a grudge because she didn’t tell me about my dad, while her hurt was because I left her when she needed me the most.

But I’ve never needed advice in the relationship department because for the last six years, I didn’t take anything past an introductory date. Because no one else was the girl I had been in love with since I was twelve.