Page 44 of Taking Care of You
I hate it.
Ethan’s eyes get wide and I continue to speak. “I know you’re not really my boyfriend and we’re just friends and you’re straight. I hate myself for asking, but I just…need…something. Even if it’s not real.”
“Koby,” he breathes out, rubbing a thumb over my cheek.
When he just stares at me, I move back from him and struggle to stand from the pier.
Oh god, what am I saying? Why am I putting him in this position? I know my emotions are running high and I’m a mess right now, but this isn’t fair to him.
“I’m so sorry. I…I’m sorry,” I say.
“Wait—” Ethan starts, but I’m already walking back to his car.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why would I ask that of him? We’re not really dating. We’refriends. I’m supposed to care about him and his feelings, not put him in an impossible situation. For fuck’s sake, he’s not even into guys.
Why would I do that? Because I feel like shit? That’s no excuse. God, I’m a terrible friend. I guess I am a whore, just like my mother claims. Only wanting one thing from Ethan.
When he unlocks his car door, I slide into my seat and face the window. I really hope that didn’t make him want to take me home. I can’t go home. I can’t emotionally handle being there. Maybe I can go to Crystal’s house if he takes me home. Her dad wouldn’t mind. He lets me crash there often.
Thankfully, when he pulls away from the pier, he drives to his house. I let out a small breath, glad I didn’t fuck up bad enough that he would make me go home.
After we pull up to his place, he puts the car in park and just sits there. “Jakoby, I—” I wince and he stops talking. He never calls me Jakoby. He rarely calls me Koby, though he’s done that before. It’s normally ‘creep’. Calling me by my first name is basically him saying I’m not creep anymore. That I’m not special to him anymore.
“Don’t, please. I’m sorry, okay? Can we forget it happened? Please?” My voice is thick with tears, but I refuse to let any more fall. I don’t want him to feel bad, like I’m crying because he did something wrong. This is all on me.
I don’t want to lose him as a friend. I don’t want this to cause a rift between us, because I was too emotionally fucked up to realize what my request could do to this friendship. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable when all I want to do is make sure he’s okay.
Looking at him pleadingly, I see his face fall. He looks away briefly then back at me and says, “Yeah. Okay.” His voice sounds as wrecked as mine, but probably for a different reason.
I get out and grab my backpack and overnight bag from the backseat, while he walks to the front door to unlock it.
When the door is open, I slide in before him and immediately walk to the guest room, shutting it softly behind me. I lean back, gently banging my head against the wood panel.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I say to myself in time with banging my head. My mother fucked me up tonight, yeah, but that’s no reason to implode one of the only meaningful friendships I’ve ever had. I know I wouldn’t appreciate it if Crystal tried to get me to kiss her, knowing we’re just friends. I wouldn’t hold it against her, but I wouldn’t be happy about it.
So why did I think asking Ethan was any different? Because I was crying? Yes, I was vulnerable, but my brain still works and I knew better.
I stomp over to the bed and throw myself on it, toeing my shoes off, feeling like shit that I didn’t take them off at the door like I usually do. I curl into myself and pull my knees to my chest.
I’m not sure how long I lie there. Could be an hour. Could be two.
While I lay there, thoughts swirl in my head. What time did my mother start drinking for her to be that drunk that she’d want to hit me? We’re out of school at two forty-five. We probably got to my house at around three-fifteen, if it was that late. She’d had to have been at it since this morning.
Shaking my head, not wanting to think about my mother and her drinking problem anymore, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone—five-thirty. I’ve probably been curled up here for an hour. How rude. This isn’t even my house and I waltz into the bedroom like I own it and shut out my friend who actually lives here.
Kicking myself for my rudeness, I roll to the edge of the bed, trying to gather the courage to knock on Ethan’s door and beg his forgiveness. After several minutes, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.
I shake myself, gearing up to deliver an apology, when I hear a soft knock at the door. Sighing, I go to answer it, knowing it can only be Ethan. It’s just as well. It’s easier if he comes here to tell me to leave without me having to do the walk-of-shame to grab my duffle bag and my backpack.
I open the door wide and turn around to grab my bag before he tells me to.
A hand grabs my wrist and Ethan pulls me to his chest. My hand lands on his pec and I look up at him, trying to see what his angle is. His free hand comes up to frame my face and he looks me in the eyes with a determined expression.
Then he drops his lips to mine.
15
Ionly freeze for a moment before I’m kissing him back. His lips are pillow-soft, melding perfectly to mine. He slides his tongue across my lower lip and I open, giving him access to explore me. My very first kiss and it’s setting my soul on fire.
