Page 9 of It's Only Ever Been You

He chuckles, kicking at the ground to keep his swing going. “Maybe. But then I’d miss out on all the fun of bugging you.”

I roll my eyes again, but there’s no denying the thrill that goes through me every time he leans in close, every time his eyes meet mine. It’s like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and I’m left trying to act as if it doesn’t affect me.

We talk for a while, about nothing and everything, and eventually, he walks me home, his shoulder brushing mine with every other step. When we reach my house, he pauses, looking down at me with that same easy smile, but there’s something else in his eyes. Something that makes my breath catch.

“Goodnight, Em,” he says, his voice soft. “Don’t miss me toomuch tonight.”

I laugh, shoving his shoulder. “In your dreams, Ethan.”

I think I hear him say, ‘definitely in my dreams’, but I’m not sure if I heard that or if I imagined it.

As he walks away, I watch him, trying to untangle the confusing swirl of thoughts in my head. Is there really something between us now, something that’s shifted without either of us saying a word? And if there is…what am I supposed to do about it?

The next few days feel like some strange balancing act. Ethan and I hang out the way we always do, and on the surface, everything’s the same. We’re back to our old jokes, back to sitting on my front porch in the evenings and sharing snacks at lunch. But underneath all that, there’s something different—something simmering just below the surface.

It’s late one evening when he shows up out of nowhere, tapping on my window. It’s dark, but the porch light casts enough glow to show his face showing that playful grin he always gives. I push open the window, not even pretending to be annoyed.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, half whispering. “It’s late.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, shrugging. “Figured you’d be up.”

I want to roll my eyes, but a part of me knows he’s right. “Well, you guessed right. Give me a sec.” I meet him outside, grabbing my hoodie as I tiptoe through the house so I don’t wake mom. Then step out onto the front porch, pulling it on against the evening chill. He’s already sitting on the porch step, looking up at the sky.

“What, no big plans with all your football friends?” I tease, nudging his shoulder as I sit beside him.

He laughs, shrugging. “I dunno. They’re okay, but they’re not you.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just look away, pretending to focus on the stars. But my heart’s racing, and I feel this warmth that has nothing to do with my hoodie. Because he looks really… hot. Which is NOT something I usually think about Ethan. Sure, it’s not hard to notice he’s good looking. All that dark blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, but to me he’s always just been… Ethan. My best friend, but now, for some reason, I see him… differently. Maybe it’s just because he was gone so long and I missed his face.

“So…” he says, leaning back, his blue eyes on me. “What do you think it’d be like if we…didn’t live here?”

“Didn’t live here?” I look at him, caught off guard by the question.

“Yeah. Like, if we got out of here. Just…went somewhere. Somewhere else, somewhere different.” He shrugs, his eyes thoughtful. “Sometimes I think about that—just going somewhere, starting over, y’know? Away from all the football and the same old routines.”

There’s a seriousness in his voice I’m not used to, and for a moment, I wonder if he means it. “You’d really leave?” I find that shocking actually, he’s never mentioned this before. He loves football, well, I thought he did, he’s been playing since 6th grade.

He looks at me, his gaze steady. “Not without you, I wouldn’t.”

The words are so simple, so certain, that they take my breath away. I look down, fiddling with the hem of my hoodie, not trusting myself to say anything. He’s my best friend—I know that—but suddenly, that word doesn’t feel big enough to explain everything I’m feeling.

“Well, then, I guess I’d have to come with you,” I say, trying to sound casual.

He smiles, his expression softening, and for a second, the world feels like it’s standing still. He reaches over, his hand resting on mine, just for a second—a touch so light I can barely feel it, but it’s there, grounding me, making me feel as if maybe there’s something more here.

……………………………………………………………

It’s been a few days since the conversation on my porch and we’re lying on our backs in thepark, looking up at the clouds drifting overhead. It’s something we used to do as kids, back when everything was simpler. But now, every time his arm brushes against mine, every time he laughs and nudges me with his shoulder, I feel this strange sensation I don’t know what to do with.

“Look at that one,” he says, pointing at a cloud vaguely shaped like a dragon. “Reminds me of that book you used to read.”

I laugh, squinting up at the sky. “Which one?”

“The one with the dragon and the forest fire.” He grins, glancing over at me. “We only talked about it a hundred times.”

“I know what book you goof, I meant which cloud?” I say, nudging his shoulder. “I could never forget that book, it's fine literature.” It’s also the book that made him my best friend.

“Oh, I know,” he says, his voice dropping a little. “Not sure what’s better—the book or watching you get so into it.”

---