Page 34 of Just Friends

My heart skitters at his words, at the low timbre of his voice.

“I have a hard time believing that,” I say. “You’re good now. Right down to your bones.”

His gaze is like fire, singeing my every nerve, as he watches me. It’s never been like this before. There’s an electric current in the air, like seconds before a storm, where before there’s only been warmth and sunlight.

One of his muscled shoulders lifts in the hint of a shrug. “Maybe you make me want to be someone good, Hazel Lane.”

The feeling burning in my stomach, filling up the space between us, is as terrifying as it is unfamiliar. Unwanted.

Desire. Heavy and desperate and dizzying. Fraying the edges of my reality, infringing on places it shouldn’t.

I swallow, taking a small step back. Alex’s eyes shutter, the kaleidoscope of colors melting back into earthen brown.

“I’m glad we met each other when we did then,” I say, wooden. “Crushes would ruin this.”

He nods, a quick dip of his head.

“Our friendship is too special to ruin with something like that.”

“Mm-hmm,” he murmurs before pushing off the dresser, taking the oxygen with him as he begins to meander around my room once more.

My heart rate returns to normal when, a few moments later, he flashes me a grin from over his shoulder. He reaches for that same butterfly canvas from my yearbook photo, wedged behind my bookshelf.

“That was the first butterfly I painted,” I tell him.

One of his eyebrows arches as he studies it. “Really? What made you pick a butterfly?”

I come up beside him, tracing the butterfly with the tip of my finger. “My art teacher told us to pick something from nature. It could be anything.”

I shrug. “Growing up, I didn’t like change very much,” I say with a wry look in his direction. “But butterflies. They were made to change. They were never meant to stay the same. And their change…well, it was beautiful. And I liked that change could be beautiful sometimes. It didn’t always mean something was ending or someone was leaving.”

I look up at Alex through the fringe of my lashes to find him already watching me. “Pretty insightful for a seventh-grader,” he says softly.

“Well, my best friend had just moved away, and my first boyfriend dumped me like two days before I started that project. I was feeling angsty.”

Alex leans against my closet door, studying me. “The one who tried to feel you up in a movie theater?”

“One and the same.”

“I’m definitely going to need to meet with him to get a quote.”

“Adding it to the itinerary for tomorrow,” I intone seriously, and then, “Do you want to head to bed?”

He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “I’m not tired.”

“Good. I’m not either,” I say, my lips hitching in a smile. After returning the canvas to its spot behind the bookshelf, I wrap my hand around his. “Follow my lead, or you’ll step on a creaky floorboard.”

The door squeaks softly on its hinges as I open it, the darkness of the hallway swallowing us up.

“Where are we going?” Alex whispers, his breath hot on my neck.

I don’t answer. Instead, I lead him past the row of bedroom doors and into the living room, flipping on one of the warm lamps. Dropping his hand, I motion for him to sit on the couch.

He lets out a satisfied hum as I open the cabinet door next to the TV, revealing shelves and shelves of VHS tapes. “What are we watching?” His voice is soft and low.

My fingers trail over the plastic cases until I find the one I want in the dim lighting. “When Harry Met Sally.”

“Youknow,thisisn’treally a sunrise hike,” I say as the morning sun starts to beat down on us. The pink and orange hues of dawn have disappeared into a golden hue that signals the start of a new day.

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