“You’ll follow us to the warehouse,” I start, “and if I can, I’ll text you the dare location when I find out what it is. If I can’t, you’ll follow us. I’ll confront Nikki, and we’ll get the whole thing on tape. You’ll dial 911, cops will swarm. We’ll save the day.”
Ethan smiles, and I refresh the screen on my phone. I sent messages out to all the girls about the plan tonight. They all responded—even Hartley—but no one seemed overly enthused about it.
“Do you think they’ll come?” I ask.
“Who knows. But even if they don’t, it’ll still be two against one. I’m not leaving you.”
He’s right. We don’t technically need them. I push away the discomfort and stow my phone back in my purse.
Ethan looks out my bedroom window, but I watch him. Brassy streetlight cuts sharp angles into his features and makes his jaw look sketched out of marble. His hair shines like polished stone as it falls over a pensive brow.
He turns around again and catches me.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” I answer. My voice sounds small and timid.
We keep looking at each other. After a while it gets to be like a contest. Who’s going to look away first? I lose.
And then I instantly regret it. I want that moment back.
Ethan opens his mouth to speak, then reconsiders and closes it again.
“What?” I ask.
“I didn’t tell you the full reason why I broke up with Savannah.” His gaze falls to his lap. He nervously traces the seam of his jeans.
I don’t say anything. Nerves skitter inside my stomach. Somehow I know what he’s going to say.
“It’s because I’m in love with someone else.” He takes my hand and looks up at me. “I’m in love with you.”
My heart stops, then beats harder, warmth filling my cheeks. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted to hear, but somehow it doesn’t feel real.
“How—Why didn’t you say anything before?” I ask.
“I didn’t think you thought of me that way.”
I shake my head. How could he have possibly thought that? Not taken one look at my face and instantly known how desperately I wanted him?
“But I’m sick,” I say.
“I know.”
“I won’t be around forever.”
“None of us will. Now stop trying to convince me I don’t want you.”
Ethan reaches up to my face, his fingertips tracing my cheek, my jaw, the tiny cleft in my chin, his eyes never leaving mine. A test—is this okay? Can I do this?
I give him my answer by fixing my gaze on his lips, the bottom one full and sulky and smooth looking. I want him to kiss me so badly. I want to see if his lips are as smooth as they look. I tilt my face toward him, and we move so close that everything else disappears and all that’s left is him, clean laundry and soap and a hint of chlorine. But he doesn’t kiss me yet. Not like with Tucker, all desperate collision and quick-let’s-do-this. Ethan looks at me as if he wants to memorize every part of my face, every second of this moment, so he’ll always have it. As if he’s wanted this forever.
As if he loves me.
Our lips meet. It’s soft, and sweet, and searching, and warmth pools in my belly. When I fantasized about our kiss, I thought about unearthly soft lips and the perfect amount of pressure, but God, it’s even better than I imagined. I become acutely aware of my pulse pounding, the blood rushing through my veins, the slow burn in my belly. His heady scent fills my senses, and all I want to do is breathe him in.
His lips move from my mouth, to my ear, to my collarbone, making my back arch and my fingers dig into his arms. I thought kissing Tucker felt amazing. I didn’t even know what kissing was.
I’ve somehow ended up on my back, with Ethan balanced above me on his elbows, and I want him closer. I grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him down to me. He moans into my mouth, deepening the kiss as he presses me into the mattress. A hot line shoots straight through me, and then it’s not soft and sweet anymore. I open my mouth for him, and our hands grasp at each other, pull each other close, as if we both know crazy things could happen tonight and this could be our last chance. Electricity races through me everywhere we touch. Nothing has ever felt so good.
There’s a knock on the door, and we pull apart fast and straighten up. Mom steps inside, and I struggle not to wipe my lips and rearrange my clothing.
“Hi, Mom!” I say.
She frowns at my enthusiastic tone. “Hi…Ethan, it’s late.”
Ethan pops up. I don’t miss the fact that he’s strategically holding his backpack out in front of him. “You’re right. I should get going. Hope, I can pick up your homework on Tuesday.”
“Great, thanks,” I say, though I can’t quite meet his eyes.
We kissed. Ethan actually wants me. It feels so unreal, as if I’ve imagined the last five minutes of my life.