Page 23 of The Boy I Hate

She didn’t know what to do, push him away, hurt him more than she already had to—or stay there. To bear the invasion to save his pride. His tongue pushed inside her mouth. Soft and velvety, but different. She waited for the butterflies to flutter. To grow in her belly and swarm to her lips until the feeling filled her entire body. The way they had when Tristan kissed her—the way they did when he even lookedather.

But theynevercame.

Tears pooled in her eyes and she squeezed them shut. Partly because it felt so wrong, but partly because shewantedit to feel so right. She prayed for her mind to go blank, to replace all the wild thoughts with something safer. With Steven. With the boy who did homework on the weekend. Who didn’t have girls hanging on his arms every second of the day. But shecouldn’t.

Nothing came. No butterflies. No tingles. And eventually she pushed at Steven’s chest, not hard, but hard enough tobreakaway.

He scooted down the sidewalk, a good foot away, and looked down at his feet. A crease stretched across his entire brow, making him look older, upset, or almost angry. She pressed her hot lips together, still swollen and sore from theirbriefkiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he said, his voice low, but more emotional than she’d everheardit.

She nodded, moisture threatening to seep through the corners of her eyes. Because she knew it was the truth. She knew that’s what he wanted, what he’d always wanted. Which was the reason it was so hard to lethimdown.

“I’m sure it will get better with practice,” he said, almost as though trying to convincehimself.

She shook her head, knowing she had to speak up. “Steven—”

But before she could say the words, a bright blue hatchback pulled along thesidewalk.

Steven cleared his throat, quickly standing and dusting off the back of his jeans. “That’s my mom,” he said under hisbreath.

Mrs. Mathers waved from the driver’s seat, smiling the same infectious smile as her son’s. Steven looked down to sidewalk, where Samantha still sat on theground.

He offered his hand, helping to pull her up beside him. But his dark brown eyes were searching hers, and seemed to have lost a little of theirlight.

She swallowed. “Steven, I don’t think this is goingtowork—”

But one finger came to hush her, pushing her lips closed before she could say more. “You’re confused, I can tell.” He searched her eyes, as if trying to read her thoughts. “Don’t answer now. Don’t answer tomorrow. But when you get all this stuff sorted out in your head”—he cupped the side of her cheek—“call me. I’ll be waitingforyou.”

She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by what was happening. He was right. She was confused, but it wasn’t about Steven. Still, she could wait until tomorrow, wait until his mother wasn’t around as a witness—because right now she had bigger demonstoface.

When she was finally stood alone on the curb, after Steven had driven off with his mom in her hatchback, Samantha shoved her hands deep into her pockets and headed for the house. She paused when she caught a glimpse of Tristan by the garage door, a two-liter soda in each hand as he walked into thehouse.

She held her breath, unable to move a muscle.Had he seen them? Had he watched them kissing?Her heart pinched with fear and she stopped at the front step. It had been the briefest of kisses, so much shorter than the one they’d shared in the woods. But if he’d been there for longer than a fewminutes…

She bit her lower lip, not allowing herself to think like that, and walked back into thehouse.

When she entered the great room, her heart instantly eased. Tristan was laughing and joking with his friends, playing pool with Beef, and looked exactly like he had last time she saw him. Relaxed and confident, like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he was the brightest star in the sky, and everyone had the privilege of dancing in hislight.

She took a seat next to Renee, relieved but still breathless, and took another slice of pizza. The whole ordeal with Steven made her ravenous…and despite still having one conversation left to go, she took a bite of herpizza.

Renee leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “How’ditgo?”

Samantha only lifted her shoulders and locked eyes on the television screen. A rerun ofI Love Lucycaught her attention as she startedchewing.

“Did youtellhim?”

Samantha shook her head. “No—notyet.”

Renee let out a heavy sigh, picked up her paper plate and jumped down from her barstool. “I can’t take it anymore. They’re too loud, and I have a headache. Are you staying thenight?”

Samantha swallowed, knowing her time to procrastinate was coming to an end, and glanced over one shoulder to nod at her best friend. “Ithinkso.”

Renee tossed her plate into the metal trash can, adjusted her blanket, and headed for the stairs “Okay. I’ll pick out a movie. Hurryup,okay?”

“Okay.”

She took another slice of pizza, adding more to her plate that already held too much. But she wasn’t ready. How could she tell Renee about what happened? To tell her she’d kissed her brother, and that she wasn’t even sure it would be thelasttime.

---