Page 10 of It's Only Ever Been You

My cheeks heat up, and I turn my head away, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my pulse is racing.But when I glance back, he’s still watching me, his gaze steady and warm, as if he notices something in me that I don’t see in myself. For a second, I wonder if he feels it too—the shift, the way everything between us is…changing, becoming something I don’t know how toname yet.

“Ethan,” I say hesitantly, my voice quieter than I mean it to be, “do you ever think about…if we’d still be friends if we met now? Like, if we hadn’t met five years ago?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he props himself up on one elbow, his expression thoughtful, serious in a way that makes my heart stutter. “Honestly? If we just met now…I think I’d be doing everything I could to make you notice me.”

I let out a nervous laugh, trying to mask the way his words make my stomach flip. “Yeah, right. You don’t have to try to impress anyone, Ethan.”

“I mean it,” he says softly, his voice losing the playful edge. “You’re… incredible, Em. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life.” His eyes pinging between mine as he says this.

His words settle over me like a blanket, warm and heavy, and I can’t breathe for a moment. There’s something in his eyes, something raw and unguarded, that makes my chest ache in a way I don’t understand. He looks as if he’s holding back, one word away from shattering the fragile balance between us.

But instead, he lies back down, staring up at the sky as if he didn’t just say the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me. And I’m left sitting there, my heart pounding and my thoughts tangled, wondering—hoping—that this is more than just friendship. That maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to see me the way I’ve started to see him.

Chapter Four

Crossing Lines

Ethan

Age 16

Ireally need Emma to come with me tonight. Jaxon’s been blowing up my phone about this party all week, and he just sent me another text about it five minutes ago. Normally, I’d brush it off or come up with an excuse not to go, but something about tonight feels different. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent so much time with Emma lately, just the two of us, and I’m starting to feel like it’s getting harder to separate how much Iwantto be around her from how much Ineedto.

I tell myself it’s not a big deal, that I just don’t want her to miss out, but deep down, I know that’s not the full truth. I want her there because I can’t stand the thought of spending a night without her nearby, of her not being in the same room, laughing or rolling her eyes at something dumb Jaxon says. And yeah, maybe a small part of me just wants to see how she’ll look—what she’ll wear, how she’llhold herself in a crowd of people who don’t know her the way I do. How they’ll probably look at her, realizing what I’ve been tryingnotto admit to myself: that she’s amazing.

The thought of someone else noticing what I see when I look at her twists something in my chest I don’t want to name. But I shake it off. It’s just a party, right? Nothing serious. Just another excuse to hang out with her, even if I don’t fully understand why it’s so important to me.

Jaxon: Bro, u better not bail. This party’s gonna be LIT

Me: Chill, man. I’m coming.

Jaxon: Good. Bring Emma if you want. I saw her at the store with her mom the other day… Dude, when did she get so hot? Nearly popped a boner in the cereal aisle.

I clench my jaw, staring at the screen, feeling this weird mix of annoyance and something sharper, something I can’t quite name. It’s not like Jaxon’s wrong. I’ve noticed it too—Emma’s changed. She’s more confident, more vibrant, and there’s this way she carries herself now that makes people notice her in a way they didn’t before.

But hearing Jaxon talk about her like that—as if she’s just some random chick for the next notch on his bedpost—makes my blood simmer. It’s not just a protective instinct; it’s something deeper, something possessive that I’m notsure I want to admit. I want to tell him to leave her alone, to quit acting like she’s just another girl. She’s not. She’s Emma.

Ethan: Don’t be gross, man. She’s my best friend.

Jaxon: What? Just saying, dude! You’re lucky you got dibs. But if you’re not making a move, maybe I should.

I grip my phone tighter, irritation prickling under my skin. The last thing I want is Jaxon—or anyone—thinking about Emma like that.

Ethan: Not happening. Leave her the fuck alone, Jaxon.

Jaxon: Geez, chill, dude. I’ll behave. Just don’t forget to show up, and bring her if you can. She’ll be safe with you, right?

I roll my eyes, pocketing my phone. Part of me wants to not ask Emma, to keep her out of this whole scene. But I want her there with me tonight, even if it’s for purely selfish reasons.

This party is something everyone’s gonna be talking about for weeks, and yeah, it’s just a party, but there’s something about having her there that feels important. Maybe it’s because I can’t imagine having fun without her, or maybe it’s because, deep down, I want her to see a different side of me—one that doesn’t just belong to football and normal mundane routines.

So here I am, on her front porch, ready to beg if I have to.

I knock on her door and she answers almost immediately, something she usually does. I’m sure it’s because she hears my dad’s car coming up her driveway.

“Hey you… what are you doing here?”, she asks.

I absently rub the back of my neck, “So, Jaxson Summers is throwing a party tonight and I want you to come with me.” I blurt out.

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