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“Fine, fine. I’ll try at least. But if it’s shit, I’ll send it to you and make you hang it above the bed where you will be forced to look at it every day as a reminder of your obnoxious meddling,” I warned not unkindly. There was never any real bitchiness between Damien and me. He pushed, and I pushed back, but there was an acceptance between us that only came from real and true friendship.
My mom’s words came back to me just then.
“Tonight, I saw two people who still circled each other like they were meant to be in each other’s orbit.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Damien. Thank you.”
I hung up the phone and stood in the middle of my bedroom for a long time. Walking to the far wall, I reached out and took down the poster of Van Gogh’s Starry Night, exposing the rows of perfectly drawn lines.
I stared at it for a while.
The memory hit me suddenly, and without warning, I felt my chest tighten, and my eyes burn.
“I won again!” I hooted, pumping my fists into the air like a prize-winning boxer. “Suck it, Ducate!”
Adam threw his remaining cards down, his dark hair hanging in his eyes. “You’re rigging this somehow. No way you can win five games in a row like that without cheating.”
I drew myself up in indignation. “Are you seriously calling me a cheat, Ducate? Because thems is fightin’ words,” I declared.
I noticed the way Adam was having a hard time looking at my face. His gaze kept sliding downward. He did that a lot lately. I found myself glancing at my chest, where his eyes seemed to travel when he thought I wasn’t looking.
At thirteen, I had started developing breasts, though there wasn’t much to write home about yet. Not like Chelsea Sloane, who had started wearing tight-fitting shirts two summers ago when her boobs started growing.
Adam’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away. “Yeah, maybe I am.” He grinned after clearing his throat.
I threw a pillow at his face. “Hey!” he exclaimed, picking up Mr. Squirrelly Pants, the stuffed grey squirrel he had won at the fair two Memorial Days ago. He winged the stuffed animal at me, but I deftly knocked it aside.
“You are no match for my ninja-like reflexes.” I karate chopped the air.
“Oh yeah?” Adam lunged for me, knocking me onto my back. He held my wrists down and straddled my waist. We had always goofed around and wrestled as kids, but for some reason, things felt different now. And when he pressed into me, I felt a strange warmth low in my belly. He leaned over me, grinning like wild, his dark hair falling into his face.
Adam was really cute. It wasn’t the first time I had noticed it, but it was the first time thinking it made me feel weird inside.
“You’re asking for it, Galloway.” He started tickling me, and I squirmed, trying to buck him off me, but he wouldn’t budge. I was squealing with laughter, writhing beneath him.
“Stop it. Please, stop it!” I giggled, trying to get my breath.
Then he stopped. I looked up at him, and he was staring down at me with an odd expression on his face. Without warning, he leaned down, his nose brushing against mine. He hesitated. I sucked in a breath, not sure what was happening.
Then he kissed me.
It was a quick pressing of lips. Warm mouth against warm mouth. Then our lips parted, and I felt his tongue. It was wet and a little slimy, but not entirely unpleasant. We mashed our mouths together for what felt like an eternity, and then he pulled away, climbing off me.
“That was cool,” he said, not looking me in the eye.
“Yeah, cool,” I replied lamely.
He peered at me shyly through locks of his hair. “I liked it, though. A lot.”
My stomach flipped. I should tell him I liked it too. Because I did.
I liked it a lot.
But I kept my mouth shut, unable to form the words. I was completely bugged out. Did Adam like me like me? Did I like like Adam?
No way. He was my best friend. I shouldn’t be wanting to do that with him.
But I did. And I sort of wanted to do it again. Yet I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. It was all so humiliatingly awkward.
After a few agonizing seconds, Adam picked up the deck of cards, shuffling them.“Anyway, I demand a rematch.”
He was acting normal, so I’d act normal. The kiss would be forgotten.
Neither of us talked about it again. I never told him that I liked kissing him too. We acted as though it never happened. Which was just as well. The weirdness would have ruined everything between us.
But I thought about it a lot after that. Because whether I realized it or not, that was the moment I fell in love with my best friend.
