Page 27

I barrel past the front door, slamming it shut behind me.

My heart races faster than my legs just moments ago as I sprinted home.

It gallops painfully inside of my chest, so rapidly that I think I’m having a heart attack.

I catch myself on the wall in the hallway, my hand falling against the eggshell painted drywall, trying to regulate my breathing.

My lungs seize, like a vacuum sealed bag, void of any air.

Weak, my legs buckle, and I fall to the hardwood floors as I focus on trying to survive this moment. I can hear my mom in the kitchen, finishing up dinner, completely unaware that her daughter is suffering from a pending meltdown.

As the room starts to right itself again and my body remembers how to function, I fall back against the wall with my knees to my chest. My fingertips slowly inch up towards my lips as if they would somehow feel different.

Oliver kissed me.

My best friend since first grade laid his lips upon mine before professing his true feelings for me.

Oliver! The boy who used to chase me around with dead cicadas, the boy who used to tell me that girls are gross and that I was no exception, the boy who forced me to listen to death metal because he liked the way it made his bones vibrate.

But he’s also the boy that willingly absorbed all my frustration every time I had a fight with my parents, the boy who let me sob into his shoulder while my dad buried our dog, the boy who sat on my bed and watched me for weeks while I obsess over everything but him.

I’m a tidal wave of mixed emotions. I drop my head back against the wall with a thud, the noise loud enough to alert my mom.

“Ash? Is that you?” Her voice calls out from the kitchen.

Slowly, I push myself up like trudging through mud, and shuffle down the hall. She spins around when I stop at the counter, watching her in a daze.

“Where’s Oliver?” She asks.

“He left.” I left.

“Oh, I thought he’d be staying for dinner. I planned enough for him.” She says as she finishes breading a piece of chicken.

I shrug, “I’m going to my room.”

She stops me as I climb the first step upstairs. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” No.

“Okay, well dinner should be ready in an hour. I’ll call you when it’s done.” She says, finally letting me go.

I shut the door behind me, throwing myself on my bed. My room is the kind of disaster that tornadoes leave. I’m sure I’m lying on top of at least three different outfits, but I don’t even care.

My thoughts drift back to earlier this summer when the two of us were in my backyard. It was late at night, my parents already in bed, so we snuck outside. We laid in the grass, watching the stars as he pointed out all the constellations .

“Hey Ash?” His voice breaks through the silence of the night.

“Hmm?” I respond, still trying to picture Orion for the millionth time.

“How do you know if you’re in love?” He asks me.

“I think you just know.” I shrug.

“That’s vague.”

“Well, in the books, it always starts off with small signs like your heart racing whenever you’re near that person, your palms sweating, or butterflies in your tummy.” I explain.

“Have you ever had any of those before?” He wonders.

“No, have you?”

“I think so.” He admits. “What do I do about it?”

“From what I’ve read, you’re supposed to kiss them and see if those feelings are still there.”

He nods. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

I sit up, wondering why he’s asking all these questions. “No. If I had I would have told you. You’re my best friend. Besides, I’m saving my first kiss for someone who sweeps me off my feet. I want a whirlwind romance, something that takes my breath away, you know?”

“Is that also from your books?” He laughs.

“I guess it is. You should really read more.”

I replay his kiss in my head, the feeling of his lips on mine were like missiles, exploding everything in sight.

Did I run because I was afraid that I liked it?

Was my upset stomach really just those butterflies everyone talked about?

Are my palms sweating because I was nervous? Suddenly, I’m not sure why I ran.

Maybe what Oliver and I have together isn’t just friendship. Maybe it just hasn’t had a chance to blossom. Just because I’ve never thought about kissing him or holding his hand romantically, doesn’t mean that it can’t happen .

Is one little kiss worth losing his friendship, his love?

The thought of us together now invades my mind like a coup d’atet.

It’s all I can think about and honestly, it’s not so bad.

We already spend all our time together; it would just look a little different.

More kissing. More touching. Then in a few years something else.

Was I just afraid to ruin our friendship? Who am I kidding? I probably already did. I groan, realizing my mistake and pull myself out of this bed.

Rushing down the stairs, I round the corner in a hurry, ignoring my mom’s protests.

“Dinner!” She yells.

“I’ll be right back!” I reassure her before slamming the front door.

I run down the street, Oliver’s a few houses over, and ring the doorbell. Mrs. Matthews appears, surprised to see me.

“Ash, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” She asks.

“I just need to see Oliver really quick.” I tell her out of breath.

“He’s supposed to be with you.” She looks just as confused as I am.

“Huh.” I say stumped. “I, uh, I’m going to check around the block. Maybe he took a walk.”

Before she can protest and ask me any more questions, I start running.

I don’t think I’ve exercised this much in my whole life, but today I was making up for that.

I find myself in front of the forest again, this time even darker.

The sun is setting, and I don’t have long to get in and out before it will be too hard to see.

I retrace our steps, calling out for him, but no answer. Panic, worse than before, causes a sweat to break out all over my skin. I make it to the little river we were sitting at, the place he kissed me, and find it empty.

“Oliver!” I scream again.

I’m answered with nothing but the subtle noises of the forest. Worried and frightened, I sprint out of there as fast as I can. The sky turning a dark blue as I walk home.

As I shut my front door once again, my mom appears in the hallway, a phone to her ear.

“Where’s Oliver?” She asks again.

My eyes sting as tears forcefully push their way past my lower lash.

“Ash?” She rushes forward, panic in her eyes.

Her hand rests against my arm as she places the phone back to her ear. “She’s home. No, he’s not with her.” She turns back to me now, “Ash, where is Oliver?”

I shake my head, my throat choking on a sob.

“Honey, answer me!” She’s yelling now.

“I don’t know!” I want to fall, to melt into the ground and become nothing.

She tells Mrs. Matthews that she’ll call her if they find him before hanging up. Her arms wrap around me as I collapse into her.