Page 13 of It's Only Ever Been You

She nods, and we move together, her hands resting on my shoulders, my arm around her waist. It feels complete, like we’re meant to be right here, right now. She’s looking up at me, her expression soft, and for a moment, I think about closing the distance between us, about kissing her right here, in front of everyone.

But then I remember I’ve been drinking, and I shouldn’t risk doing something that might ruin everything. But as she looks up at me, her green eyes so close and so trusting, something snaps.

Before I can stop myself, I lean in, my hand moving up to cup her face as my lips meet hers. She freezes, just for a second, and I think maybe I’ve made a huge mistake. But then she’s kissing me back, soft and warm, and suddenly nothing else matters.

I pull her closer, my hand tangling in her hair, letting myself get lost in the moment, in the way she feels against me, like she’s always belonged there. Her fingers graze the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine, and everything else fades away. It’s just us, in this perfect, impossible moment that feels like it’s been building forever.

But then, somewhere in the haze, a voice in the back of my mind reminds me—she’s my best friend. And I’m buzzed, I’m not thinking clearly. I break away, my chest heavy, looking at her with a mix of disbelief and regret.

“Emma…” I whisper, her name catching in my throat. I want to say something, to apologize or explain, but the words don’t come.

She stares up at me, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, and I can see the questions in her eyes—the hope, the confusion. And I know, right then, that I can’t risk it. I can’t let this go anyfurther. She means too much to me to gamble everything on a moment of an almost drunken impulse.

When the song ends, I force myself to pull back completely, to give her a small, easy smile that I don’t really feel. “ We should probably head home, it’s getting late. Can you drive? I’m too drunk.”

She nods at me and attempts to take my hand but I pull it away at the last second as I turn toward the door. I can see out of the corner of my eye that she’s taken aback. I always take her hand and lead her through crowded places because it makes her feel safe. But I don’t trust myself right now, especially after that damn kiss.

The drive is a quiet one, mostly due to me, I just don’t know what to say so I pretend that I’m asleep, leaning against the window. Once we get to her house, she nudges my shoulder, “We’re back Ethan,” her voice almost a whisper, almost nervous. Fuck! I made her uncomfortable.

I walk her to the front porch, “Thanks for coming with me. You were a good wingman… wingwoman.” I say, totally brushing over the fact that we kissed.

“Yeah, sure. No problem.” she says, sounding almost sad.

“Goodnight, Em,” I say, my voice rough. “See you tomorrow when I pick upthe car.”

I’m going to leave my car in her driveway, I don't want to risk driving with alcohol in my system. I could probably drive, but the shock of realizing I just kissed my best friend crashes over me, knocking the air from my lungs.. But I won’t risk it.

She nods, looking a little dazed, and I walk away, trying to ignore the ache in my chest, the feeling that I’ve just left a part of myself behind with her. And tomorrow, I’m going to have to pretend like this never happened, as if it was just a kiss, a mistake. Or just ignore it altogether. Because if I tell her how I really feel…if I cross that line…then I might lose her for good.

And that’s a risk I’m not willing to take.

Chapter Five

Drifting Apart

Emma

The days after the party feel… different. Like something’s shifted, something I can’t quite name but feel in every quiet moment when I’m alone. It’s as if I’ve lost something I didn’t even realize I had, a part of me that’s always been steady and sure. Ethan hasn’t been around much, and when he is, I don’t recognize him. The easy laughter, the effortless connection we’ve always had, has been replaced by something strained.

He doesn’t text me first anymore. Doesn’t send random memes or ask me to hang out like he used to. Instead, he’s here one minute and gone the next, flitting from place to place, his schedule suddenly packed with football practice, teammates, and girls whose names I don’t even know. And every time I try to convince myself it’s just a phase, the hollow ache in my chest gets bigger.

At first, I tell myself I’m imagining things. That he’s just busy, caught up in the whirlwind of practices, homework, and whatever else life is throwing at him. But the pit in my stomach says otherwise, and it refuses to go away. And every time I catch a glimpse of him when Mom and I drive by—laughing with the guys, his arm slung casually around some girl, the sun catching his messy blonde hair—it feels like a piece of me is disappearing.

The worst part isn’t even seeing him. It’s knowing he’s still here, just within reach, but he feels a million miles away. Just as if the boy I’ve always known—the one who saved me on the playground, who walked me home every day after school—is slipping through my fingers, and I don’t know how to stop it.

……………………………………………………………

The start of junior year comes faster than I like. One day it’s the lazy days of summer, and the next, we’re thrown back into the chaos of school, with everyone buzzing about new classes, upcoming games, and who’s dating who.

Ethan and I used to stick together through the first few days, navigating our schedules and finding excuses to meet up between classes. But this year is different. I barely see him in the hallways, and when I do, he’s always surrounded by his other friends—or worse, a handful of girls who seem all too eager to be near him.

The few times I’ve managed to catch up to him, he’s brushed me off with a quick, “Hey, I’ll catch you later,” before disappearing down the hall. Now I’m seeing a different side of him, one that doesn’t have time for me anymore. And the more I try to ignore it, the harder it is to shake the sinking feeling in my chest.

After a week of trying to pretend nothing’s changed, I can’t stand it anymore. I need to talk to him, to figure out if he’s avoiding me or if it’s all in my head. And maybe, I’ll ask about what happened at the party, because I can’t keep pretending that kiss didn’t mean anything.

At lunch I spot him sitting outside with a couple of his football buddies. They’re talking and laughing, and for a moment, I hesitate, feeling like an outsider looking in. But I push past it, telling myself that this is Ethan, my best friend, and he owes me an explanation.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?” I ask, standing in front of him, my heart pounding. I’m trying to keep my voice steady, but I’m pretty sure he can hear the nervous edge.

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