Falling For My Nemesis

Alarm bells blared in my head as Ethan’s lips moved overtop of mine. They were warm and soft. But they felt all wrong. It was totally weird, like when you took a sip of your drink, expecting it to be something else entirely, and the surprise of it—the reality of it—hit you in a single instant of recognition and you cringe inside.

My palms made contact with his chest, ready to shove him off of me when he pulled away.

A thud outside his door drew our attention, momentarily saving us from post-kiss awkwardness. And when I glanced to the sound, his door swung softly on its hinge, like someone had nudged it open. I swore I saw movement in the hall, so I got up and ran to check, but found it empty.

The house was eerily quiet as I turned back to him. “Um. . .” I started, stupidly, because how did you tell your best friend in the whole world that kissing him was like kissing a paper sack?

“Ugh. That was gross,” Ethan blurted. He grimaced and furiously wiped at his mouth. “You kiss like my grandma.”

A giggle escaped my lips, and I had to slap a hand over my mouth to prevent full-on hysteria because the relief I felt was so monumental. “Seriously? My hand kisses better than you.”

Ethan pulled a face. “Doubtful, but what was I thinking?”

“You tell me.”

Ethan grinned, looking sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Did you get that out of your system?”

“Totally. Please forget I ever said anything. I was so wrong.”

“Thank heavens.”

We laughed, and then it grew silent again.

Ethan picked at a loose thread on his bedspread when he said, “Sorry. I think I was just jealous when I saw you and Carson together. Not because I like you. That kiss cleared that up.” He shuddered, and I whipped his pillow off the bed and threw it at his face. After he caught it, he laughed and added, “We haven’t been hanging as much, and I’m dreading you leaving next year. I guess when I saw you guys getting along, I freaked. Call it temporary insanity.”

I shook my head. “You’re such an idiot, but I’m sure Beth will be relieved because I think she really likes you, and you two will be super cute together if you’d get your crap together and finally, officially, ask her out to more than just the dance.”

He widened his eyes comically. “After that kiss, I am.”

“Ha, ha. Just don’t try that again,” I said, motioning between us. “Ever. Or you’ll be one ball short.”

Ethan cupped his crotch. “No worries.”

“Did Carson ask you yet?”

“To the dance?” I asked.

He nodded.

I glanced down to my hands. “Not yet.”

As if reading my thoughts, Ethan stood and squeezed my shoulder. “He will.” Then he headed for the hall.

“Hey, where are you going?” I asked. Now that we returned to normal, he was leaving?

“To Lysol my mouth. Be right back.”

I grabbed the pillow again and threw it, but he jumped out of the way, and his laughter rang out, down the hallway.

???

Up until this point, the Angel Program had been a breeze. But today, not so much.

Carson and I had gotten along so well. But somehow, in the last three days, we went from like to hate—kissing to the silent treatment.

It started with him standing me up yesterday morning. We were supposed to meet with Mrs. Parks in the afternoon, after Carson’s practice, but he never showed. He never even answered my texts until later that evening, and even then, his response was the equivalent of a virtual shrug.