Page 40 of Holding On

Chapter Nine

Ethan

I never date a girl long enough to get to the stage where I miss her when she's not around, which is why I find it concerning that I miss Becca. I'm not even dating her and yet I miss her. She was just here last night. How could I miss her already? Is it because I'm in desperate need of company? Or is it because I really like her?

It's obvious I like her. I can't stop thinking about her. In fact, I was up half the night thinking about her, and yes, some of those thoughts weren't entirely wholesome. Not even close. But shit, she's hot. Of course I'm going to think those things about her.

When I said goodbye to her last night, I almost kissed her, and I would have if I wasn't stuck in this stupid chair. I could've pushed myself out of it and tried to balance on my good leg but that would've been awkward and could've resulted in me falling down, which would've made for a horrible first kiss. If I kiss her, it needs to be a hell of a lot better than that.

I've been debating whether or not she even wanted me to kiss her. I think she did, but I'm not entirely sure. It's hard to tell with her. I'm used to having girls be overly aggressive, making it abundantly clear they want to be with me. But with Becca, I can't really tell. She didn't flirt with me last night, but she did let me hold her hand. I take that as a sign she would've been receptive to a kiss.

Why am I obsessing over this? I mean, seriously, when have I ever obsessed over kissing a girl? I never even think about it. I just do it.

I stare at my phone, wondering if I should call her. It's noon so maybe she's out doing something. I could just call to say hi. But will that make me look desperate? Like I'm dying to see her again, despite seeing her just a few hours ago?

Before I change my mind, I call her.

"Ethan?" She sounds surprised.

"Hey. How's it going?"

"Good. What's up?"

"Not much. So what are you doing today?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'll probably clean the apartment. Do some laundry." She laughs. I like her laugh. "I told you I don't have a very exciting life."

"It's more exciting than mine. I don't even leave the house."

Shit. Why did I say that? It just reinforces how pathetic I've become, hiding out in this house all the time.

There's awkward silence and then we speak at the same time, not hearing what each other said.

We both stop, then Becca says, "You first."

"I was just thinking maybe you could come over later for dinner. Maybe order a pizza?"

She doesn't say anything. My heart pounds, her silence making me tense, nervous, unsure of myself. Feelings I have never once had when asking a girl out.

Does she not want to see me again? I thought we hit it off last night but maybe not. Or maybe she assumes I want more than just dinner with her, which I do, but that's not why I'm inviting her over. I really just want to see her again.

"I figured I owed you after you brought me dinner last night," I say, rushing to explain. "But if you don't want to, that's fine. I just thought I'd—"

"Um, no, I could come over. What time?"

"Whatever works for you."

"How about five?"

Five is early for dinner. Did she suggest five so we'd have time afterward to hang out? Or does she just want to eat and go so the rest of her night is free? I wish I could figure this girl out.

"Five is good."

"I could bring a movie over. Unless you have something you need to do after dinner."

"No. A movie would be great." I feel the grin on my face. Since meeting Becca, I've smiled more than I've smiled in weeks. In fact, before she came along, I don't think I'd smiled since before the accident. Sad, but true.

"Then I'll see you at five," she says. "Can I bring snacks?"

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