I'm absolutely dreading the next time that I come face-to-face with Ethan Crest. Dreading it. It could have been worse, I know it could have; I could have thrown up on him, thrown up at all actually, or I could have done something even more mortifying than pouting because he didn't kiss me. I could have kissed him despite his wishes; I could have begged him for sex and told him that I was a pitiful virgin. 

But I didn't do any of those things, thank God. That could have made the embarrassment that's been keeping me from leaving my room even more worse. It could have made it panic-attack inducing.  

Still, though, I'm absolutely mortified. I took my first healthy friendship, my first friend who actually went out of their way to do nice things for me, and I ruined it. I ruined it by acting like some sloppy drunk. I may have been drunk when I said all of those things last night, but I remember pretty much all of it, I think. I've only ever blacked out memories once, and that's an event I really don't like revisiting. 

I remember hugging him and telling him that he was comfy, thinking blissfully that he was going to kiss me and then feeling angry and upset when he didn't. I remember all of these painfully humiliating things, and it's horrible. I honestly think this is the first time I truly regret drinking. I don't regret drinking the night of the crash, I just regret being stupid enough to get in the car with a drunk driver. I had fun that night. 

I've had fun all of those nights, felt like a different and better person all of those nights. 

But not last night. I feel dirty even though I've already taken my shower. I feel gross and grimy and all of these nasty things even though I'm not. And when it all comes down to it, I feel these things because I made myself look bad in front of Ethan. He's the only person in the world, I honestly believe, who doesn't see me as some quiet letdown because of who my dad is. He doesn't think that I should be this huge charismatic person, and that it's not a bad thing. He doesn't try to get me drunk so that I'm more fun like my other friends. He likes me for the sober me, something I've probably only felt once or twice in my life. 

And I ruined that.  

Because I was bored and wanted to impress Jeanie. 

I'm absolutely pathetic. 

I am startled out of my thoughts when Darko starts licking away at my face, making me giggle even though I find it pretty gross. "You nasty little thing," I say fondly, reaching over on my side so that I can pluck him off of my pillow and pull him onto my chest. He immediately circles around once I'm flat on my back and he's sturdy, going around three times before he finds a position he likes. He immediately puts his head into his front legs and falls right to sleep. 

I wish it was that easy. 

XXXXXXX 

Once again, I'm forced to go downstairs by the rumbling of my stomach. I'm pretty surprised that my hunger managed to stay in the shadows for a good part of the day, it being a little after dinner time right now. But now that it's here, it's in full force, and by the time I'm in the, thankfully, empty kitchen, I feel like my stomach's about to cave in on itself.  

I immediately head towards the pantry and pull out a box of cookies to last me for while I cook a nice big pot of macaroni and cheese. I plop myself down on a bar stool once the noodles have been added into the boiling water, and munch away on the sweet treats, knowing that I'll regret it in the morning when my stomach's slightly puffier than normal. 

The sound of the front door shutting rooms away snaps me out of my good, solitary mood. What if that's Ethan and he feels like it's a good time for a nighttime snack? Granted he usually has his snacks closer to midnight-we've bonded pretty well during out mutual nighttime snack splurges-but still. What if fate has it out for me tonight and he's hungry now? 

Luckily I hear my dad's voice and my mom's laugh come in that same direction, letting me know that it's them and not the guy that I'm somewhat avoiding right now. My dad, of course, has a voice so loud that I can pretty much hear every word he's saying, and when he mentions my name and Ethan's in the same sentence, it's safe to say that my attention has been moved from the box of cookies. 

He says, "I'm glad the two of them are friends, honestly. Lord knows she needs a friend like him instead of those three she always hangs out with." 

I feel a pang of anger hit my chest at his words-even though they're not the greatest friends, I still love them-but still, my attention cannot be moved from their conversation. I have no idea where they are in the house, but since it seems like no one else is on the first floor apart from us-it's eerily silent, actually-I can hear them like a hawk. 

My mom says, "Oh I know. I was a bit worried at having some guy around her age coming to live in the house, but then I met him and you told me all about what he's been through. I just hope he rubs off on her." 

What he's been through? What the hell has he been through? He hasn't told me anything. I never even would have guessed that he's been through something. He just seems so chill and happy with life. It's like he's never experienced a hardship or something.  

Damn it. Now I'm curious. 

Their voices getting lighter and harder to hear as they probably move off towards their bedroom, I hear my dad say in response, "I know. If he hadn't told me, I never even would have guessed that he..." 

And that's when I can no longer hear his voice. Fuck. Now I'm never going to know what he's been through without asking my parents which will include me having to admit that I eavesdropped on their conversation or asking Ethan. And it's not exactly polite to go up to someone and demand them that they tell me what they've been through in their life. 

What if it's something terrible? What if he was, like, abused as a kid and had to be in a gang to support some sister of his or something? Oh god, I think with an eye roll, I've been reading way too many books. But still...something bad could have happened to him that wasn't quite so dramatic. Someone he loved could have died, he could have never have known his parents. 

And suddenly, I feel like bursting into his room and apologizing over and over about how sorry I am about last night. I don't know why, seeing as how getting embarrassingly drunk isn't a sin or anything...but still. Now I just feel this overwhelming need to apologize to him. I feel like I'll never forgive myself for last night if I don't. 

So with that thought in mind, I clamber off of the barstool and after turning off the stove, I head back on up the stairs. My stomach starts buzzing in nervousness, but I'm far too determined to cower down now. I'll feel awful if I don't apologize. I just have to. He deserves it. 

I find the door right next to mine and after seeing the bedroom light peeking out under the door, I know that he's in there. I take a deep breath, calming my steadily rising nerves, and try to tone down the cheeks I know will turn red because of this, and then lightly rap my knuckles against the door. 

He immediately calls out, "One minute!" and I'm not even exaggerating when I say that that one minute it took for him to reach the door felt like light years.  

When he finally opens the door, I can't help but feel a bit lightheaded and turned on by his appearance. He's wearing sweatpants and a loose-fitted but arm baring shirt and his hair makes it look like he just rolled out of bed. It's all tousled and messy and it makes me just want to run my hands through it even more.  

But I push all of those thoughts out of mind because I know that I won't be able to concentrate on saying sorry if I'm too busy mentally making out with him. He looks confused and a bit startled by random appearance at his door, but he doesn't hesitate to move to the side to let me in the room and then close the door behind me. 

He was obviously able to see on my face that this is something serious. Well, serious to me anyways. 

I let my eyes quickly flit around the room, seeing what he's done to the plain guest room that I rarely ever entered into. But other than the one added picture frame on his bedside table and the acoustic guitar leaning on his wall, it looks just as plain as ever. Why doesn't he have much stuff? Does it have anything to do with what my parents were talking about? 

"Hallie?" I hear him call out, snapping me out of my crazy thoughts. I look over towards him and see that he's perched on the end of his bed, and looking at me with a somewhat concerned look. He asks me, "You alright? You kind of zoned out there." 

"Sorry," I immediately respond, crossing my arms over my chest so that I don't fidget too much because of nerves. I hate that I feel so antsy and uncomfortable right now. I've never felt that with Ethan. Our friendship has always been easy and casual, never like this. It's all my fault, though. Had I never made an ass out of myself in front of him last night, I wouldn't be feeling this way. 

He asks me, "So what's up? You okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, purposely keeping out the fact that I feel beyond mortified because of yesterday. "I just...I wanted to apologize." 

"For yesterday?" he asks me lightly, raising an eyebrow. I want to smack him for doing a thing that makes him look even more freaking attractive. He's making it awfully hard to concentrate on why I even came here in the first place. 

I nod, and then, realizing that this is the time to actually come up with an apology, twine a piece of my hair around my ear nervously. God, I hate this. I hate this so much. I'm never fucking drinking again. Swallowing back my nerves, I say, "Yeah...I just. I was awful when you saw me, and I made myself look like such an ass."  

He goes to stop me and say something along the lines of "Hallie, it's fine," but I just can't let him. I can't let him say that it's fine because it's really not. I don't know why I'm making such a huge deal out of this apology, but I can't help but feel like this situation needs it. Ethan didn't need to see me like that, or have to deal with me. But he did.  

"No it's not," I say. "I just...Jeanie came over and she wanted to do either that or smoke and I don't smoke and hate when she does it so we drank. I honestly didn't want to at first. I told her no. And when we did, I didn't think you'd have to see me. But then she left, and when I'm drunk I like to be around people and I knew you wouldn't be as mad as my parents or Darla. And I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have...and I'm really sorry." 

"Hallie," he says, sounding a bit amused by how crazy I am going through this. He rises off the bed and then comes to stand in front of me, placing his large hands on my shoulders as if to calm me down. What he doesn't know is that it does the exact opposite, though. With the way my heart is pounding and my stomach is swimming, he did the complete opposite of calm me down. But he's just standing so close and touching me and his eyes are staring right into mine and I'm slowly starting to realize how utterly gorgeous this guy is... 

"Look," he starts, and my eyes are immediately drawn to his lips. Good God this is freaking pathetic. "I'm not going to lie to you, I was pissed last night. Okay? And I was still annoyed today so that's why I didn't really show my face around the house. But I'm fine now. Don't worry." 

"I just..." my cheeks burn at the thought of what I'm going to say, but I know deep down that it needs to be said. "You're a good friend to me, and I just...I don't want my stupidity to ruin it." 

He laughs, "You're not stupid, stupid." 

"Hey!" I argue, reaching out and punching him on his shoulder. "Not cool, dude." 

"Sorry, dude," he says with an amused eye roll, unfortunately dropping his hands from my shoulders.  

Not exactly wanting to leave his room because it's the first social interaction I've had all day, I look around and ask him, "So what'd you do today? What do you do in here?" 

He says, "I wrote a lot today, actually," plopping himself back on his bed. I fight to not think about how utterly comfortable and inviting he looks just lying there like that, and how much I'd love to just crawl up to him and lay on him or something. 

My God, what is up with me today? I mean, sure; I'm usually pretty hyper-aware of the fact that Ethan is so fucking attractive and all that jazz, but for some reason it feels differently today. I'm actually wanting to act on the fact that he's so good-looking, and not just stand there and watch from afar. 

Weird. 

"Really?" I ask him, realizing that I probably look like a loser just standing there, so I pad my way across the carpeted floors and sit down on the edge of the bed. I make sure, though, not to sit so close to him so that I don't look like I'm trying to pull anything. 

"Yeah," he muses. "I think I got the start of at least a couple of songs." I look over my shoulder at him and see that his arms are folded behind his head and he's staring up at the ceiling almost wistfully.  

"How long have you been writing?" I ask him, truly curious. I know that notebook I always see him scribbling in is practically ancient.  

"Mmm..." he starts, and I find it somewhat crazy that he actually has to think on it so hard. "Since I was twelve, maybe?" 

"Well shit," I say, feeling just a bit more comfortable with myself in being there. So because of that, I swivel around on the bed so that I'm facing him now, my legs no longer on the floor but instead folded across each other. "I don't even think I knew how to spell when I was twelve." 

He chuckles, and I notice his flat and toned belly vibrate because of it. He says, "I'm not saying I was as awesome as I am now back then," and I can't help but scoff and roll my eyes in return. He just laughs again and continues, "But honestly, my songs were probably about boogers and boobs back then." 

I snort a, I have to admit, very unattractive laugh when he says this. Of course a boy would put boobs and boogers together. Honestly. I say, "Now just about boobs, right?" 

"Oh yeah," he says without a moment of hesitation, "For sure." 

We both lose ourselves in our laughter for a few minutes, me feeling much lighter and happier knowing that such a good guy isn't mad at me anymore for being a dumb ass yesterday. For a moment I honestly thought he was going to go back to hating me, if he ever hated me in the first place. I really don't want to get my hopes up or anything, but I think Ethan Crest is the first person to ever live in this house to not hate my guts at some point in time. 

"Hey Ethan?" I ask him softly, just a few moments after our little laughing fit. In the midst of all of this thinking he hated me and nonsense; I came to realize that I really don't know anything about the guy laying just a few feet away from me. All I know is that he's one of the most decent people on the planet and that he's extremely good-looking. But that's all. I don't truly know Ethan.  

And I really want to. 

"Yeah?" he asks, his soft voice matching mine perfectly. 

"Where are you from? I find it dumb that I don't know this." Hopefully I don't seem like some kind of weird stalker or anything, but I truly want to get to know this guy. I honestly think that he may be one of the only good friends I have, and I don't want to let him slip away or anything. 

From where I'm sitting, I see a light smile grace his lips. He says, "Mississippi, right on the border of it and Louisiana." 

"So that's where the accent comes from?" I ask him, finally realizing that his southern twang that doesn't match the Nashville one quite perfectly did, in fact, originate somewhere.  

"You act like you don't have one," he teases, and I notice with a little heart thump that he's sitting himself up so that he can look at me. Is it weird to admit that I actually found it easier to talk to him when I couldn't see his facial expressions perfectly? Because it's the truth. I didn't have to worry about me making some ugly facial expression or looking like a loser because he was just looking at the ceiling. 

I retort, "Not as bad as yours!" 

He rolls his eyes and says, "Well, I just so happen to think that you talk funny and that I talk perfectly fine." 

That's because every inch of you is perfectly fine, I think to myself, and am pretty ashamed of myself right after I do so. What is with me acting like such a little slut in my thoughts around him? Goodness, I sound like Paris Hilton or something from my end of things. It's ridiculous. 

"Shut up," I scold him playfully, reaching out and swatting him right on the calf.  

"You're so damn abusive to me," he groans, reaching forward so that he can melodramatically rub his leg. Like I actually hurt him or something. Get real. I felt how freaking hard that leg muscle of his was. There's no way in hell puny ole me could have hurt him. 

"Such a tit," I tease him, absolutely loving the way that his jaw just drops in shock.  

We stay in his room for about an hour, just laughing and talking, and by the time the both of us are getting so tired that yawns are more of an occurrence then words, I can't help but feel much lighter and happier than I did when I woke up this morning. Sure, that's probably because I'm no longer hung over, but I know that it's mainly because I've somehow or another become a close friend to this amazing guy. I don't know what I did right to deserve a friend like him, but I truly am thankful. 

I press a hand to his arm and when he looks over at me with those gorgeous of eyes of his, I can't help but be stunned once again. He's so...I don't know. He's amazing. So what is he doing spending most of his time with me? Laying in bed and goofing around with me? I really don't even want to question it honestly, because then it might go away.  

So I just push back the feelings of not being good enough and say, "I think it's time for me to go to bed. I'm really fucking tired." 

He smiles at my unneeded curse, him having already made fun of me for that sometime during this whole thing, and says, "M'kay. Sleep good, Hals." 

I squeeze his tight bicep fondly and then climb off of the bed, not really wanting to leave but knowing that I have to unless I want to crash in his bed. Even though snuggling through the night with Ethan sounds pretty close to heaven, I know that I'll probably do something to mess up this newfound friendship; like moaning his name because of a dream or something. 

I'd fuck everything up and that's just something I really don't want to do. 

But it's as I'm almost out of the room, my hand pretty much grasping at the metal doorknob of the door, when I hear him jump off of the bed, his weight on his feet making a thud sound on the carpet. I look over my shoulder out of curiosity, just to see what the hell he's up to, and when I see that he's heading straight for me, my heart thuds hard against my chest. What's he doing? 

Before I can even blink twice, he has a firm grasp on my hand and a determined look on his handsome face. My entire body goes cold because of misunderstanding and warm because of the fact that he's so close to me and looking at me like he knows me, like he knows my every secret and every thought. Biting down on my bottom lip, I look up at him and we lock gazes. Just once. And in that one brief flash of a glance, his deep blue eyes have managed to calm down my nerves and all of the churning going on in my body. 

And then he kisses me. 

And it's not like one of those movie first kisses where the guy just yanks the girl into this wild and passionate kiss that shows her just how much he loves her.  

It's even better.  

It's the sweetest and most gentle of kisses, just little peppering of his lips against mine, his hand warm where it still has a grasp on mine. His other hand has moved to cup the back of my head, angling it ever so lightly so that he has a better access to my mouth. My hands, well, at first they had no idea what the fuck to do. I've always been bad at that when I'm kissing someone sober. But I found that with Ethan, I felt so at ease that it didn't embarrass me when my hands crawled up his torso and rested against his chest.  

It's never been this easy for me to kiss someone. Never been so natural, so effortless. I usually hate kissing people sober because I always feel like I mess it up, like I do something completely and totally wrong and ruin the mood. That's why I usually just kiss people when I'm drunk. 

But I feel like being drunk would absolutely ruin this first kiss. I want all of my senses, all of my memory, working perfectly so that I can remember ever second of this. Every brush of his lips against mine, every time he puts a light pressure on my hand, every time I feel his hand tighten, pulling my hair just a little bit. I want to remember all of it. 

Because it's perfect. 

He pulls away just seconds into the kiss, and when I open my eyes I realize that the kiss really didn't last that long, that I just stretched into forever in my head because I really wanted it to last for that long. His head doesn't waver from mine though, his forehead resting lightly against my own. His eyelids flutter open a moment later, and I can't help but notice that his eyes seem to have this newfound vibrancy in them.  

Did I cause that? 

I really hope so, because I know that that kiss just moved the world from underneath my feet. I want him to feel the exact same way too. I don't want to be the only one affected. I want him to feel for me how I feel about him. 

And, with a fluttering heart and adrenaline pumping through my veins at the mere thought, I realize that that kiss just showed me that he does. 

His blue eyes flicker across to mine, and I can't even glance away from them as he murmurs to me, "Sorry...I just...you mentioned that yesterday. Kissing me, I mean. And it really made me want to try it." 

Finding it somewhat adorable that he feels the need to explain his actions to me, I squeeze his hand, the way that his own did to me when we were kissing, and whisper, "Definitely don't apologize." 

I only avert my eyes from his so that I can look down at the huge smile growing on his lips, and feel my entire body warm in response. How the fuck do I get this kind of response? How do I, this lost and beyond self-conscience girl, make a gorgeous and all-around good guy smile like that? I really just don't understand. 

He pulls away from me after we just stand there for a few moments, pressed into each other and smiling like utter goons, and then says to me, "I guess I should...I should let you go to bed now." 

Yeah, like I'll be able to sleep after that, a voice says in my head, but I know that I'd die of humiliation if I ever said something like that out loud. So instead, I just reach up and tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, and say back, "Yeah, I guess so." 

"Night Hals," he says, leaning in and pressing a kiss against my forehead before he slowly backs away from me and heads in the direction of his bathroom.  

"Goodnight," I tell him with a soft smile, before turning out of his room and then shutting the door behind me. Feeling like my legs have been turned to jelly, I lean against his bedroom door and close my eyes, letting my head run through the kiss just one more time. A big and goofy smile settling on my lips, I then push away from his door, making the small trek to my bedroom.  

I watch as Darko jumps out of his little bed at the vibration of the door closing and he eagerly sprints on over to me, and I don't hesitate a second to lift him off of the floor and into my arms. Feeling like I should share this happiness with someone, I bring him closer to my face and bury myself into his side, smiling like a goon the whole time. 

He happily licks at my face, obviously thrilled that I'm giving him this much affection. I pull him back so that I can look into his cloudy brown eyes, like he can see my happiness or something, and then scratch him behind the ears. "Oh yeah boo, definitely not sleeping tonight."