I snorted.
"What are you doing?" Josh whispered.
Then he grabbed my hand and ran.
Covering the ten yards to the end of the hall felt like it took ten minutes. Mr. Cross was going to walk out of his room any second.
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We were doomed. My heart was in my throat, but I was smiling. This was fun. Actual fun. And then we were safely behind the door.
"Sorry. Sorry," I said, out of breath. "I just couldn't help it."
"You're dangerous to have around, you know that?" Josh said, his chest heaving. He glanced over his shoulder at the door, as if he could see through the heavy wood.
"Do you think he heard us?" I asked, stepping closer to him.
"No. No. He's probably snoring already," Josh said.
He turned his face back to me and our noses touched. There was a split second of hesitation. A distinct sizzle of warmth in the air. I could practically hear his heart pounding through his shirt. My hand reached up and gently touched his chest. He stared at it as if wondering why it was there.
And then he grabbed me. He grabbed both my arms in his hands and kissed me. Hard. So hard I stumbled backward against the wall. We broke contact for a split second, but then he was on me again, kissing me like his life depended on it. Mashing my lips against his own. I couldn't even begin to try to kiss him back. It was all wrong. All completely and totally wrong.
Thomas had never kissed me like this. Thomas had made me feel special and beautiful and cared for every time we kissed. Thomas . . .
A sob welled up in my throat. I couldn't breathe. I reached up and shoved Josh away from me.
"What happened?" he demanded, out of breath. "Is something wrong? Was that wrong?"
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"No! Sorry, I just. . . Sorry."
What was I doing? Why was he gone? Nothing made se
nse. I was crying. Already crying.
"Reed. Oh, God. I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
I held my stomach and stared at the pebbly carpeting of the stairwell through bleary eyes. Two minutes ago I'd been doubled over laughing. Now I was doubled over sobbing. I was losing my mind.
"No. I'm not," I cried.
"God, I shouldn't have done that. We shouldn't have--God, I'm sorry," he said, wrapping his arms around me and making me stand up. He pulled me against him, holding me. "Shhhhh. It's okay," he said in my ear. He moved my hair behind my shoulder and stroked it quickly, all the while holding me tightly with his other arm. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."
He said it over and over until I finally stopped crying. Until I almost started to believe it.
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MORTIFIED
The next morning I woke up feeling like an idiot. Why could I not get my emotions under control? How long, exactly, would I be walking around like a ticking time bomb? I couldn't believe I had burst into tears in the middle of my first kiss with Josh. Maybe it hadn't been perfect, but he was still Josh. Sweet, funny, solid Josh. Josh, who could be a real boyfriend. Who was already a real friend. He didn't deserve to be treated like that.
Every time I thought about it, I actually shuddered in embarrassment. I was so mortified, I didn't even go to breakfast. I just sat in my room watching my e-mail inbox and eating Drake's coffee cakes, lifted from Kiran's closet and her faux box-of- shame. I was becoming a serial looter.
Around 10 a.m., I decided I'd waited long enough. The longer Taylor was MIA, the more my somewhat irrational concern started to feel rational. I typed up another e-mail.
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