Seth fell asleep!

I would take it personally, if I didn't know what he'd been doing last night. His exhaustion hopefully had more to do with the all-night partying than my personality.

Or it could also have to do with freaking out over disturbing coded messages sent to him in the middle of the night. And if so, then I had even less of a right to complain.

There he was, on his side, still facing me, only his eyes were closed. He looked so sweet and innocent against the maroon and navy of his sheets.

Sweet, innocent, and completely helpless. This was the perect opportunity for me to erase the messages I sent on his phone! It would be a piece of cake; just reach over, grab his phone, and delete freaking everything.

And while I was at it, maybe I could also check for hot-tub related convos—since I was already invading his privacy, anyway— and start taking names. I cracked my knuckles for effect, then shook my head, feeling stupid about it.

My creeper level was rising by the second, so I decided against going through with it. Making those messages disappear would be like, an admission of guilt. It'd be better to just act like they didn't bother me, downplay the whole thing.

Besides, his phone was most likely passcode protected, and was in his pocket. In order to get to it, I would have to put my hands down his pants. While he slept.

That was beyond creepy. It was downright criminal.

My face burned and I turned away from Seth's bed to look around. His room was pretty much the way it had always been: study table, lamp, laptop, stereo system, shelf for his vinyls and CD's.

Browsing his record collection was always good for killing a few minutes so I walked over to take a closer look. I thumbed through the newer additions: vintage stuff from the 70's mostly, and one record in particular that caught my attention:

"Whale songs, Seth? Really?" I asked, muttering under my breath and rolling my eyes at his sleeping figure. Was he turning into some kind of hippie? "And you complain about my voice?"

He stirred a little when I spoke, making a soft, contented, humming, sighing sound. My stomach did a little flip when I heard it.

What to do? I sat on his floor, Indian-style and decided that if he didn't wake up by the time I counted to a hundred, I was just gonna let myself out.

"Adrian?"  I heard him ask by the time I got to the upper forties. I looked up to see him propped up on his side with one elbow, facing me. He rubbed his eyes with his other hand, looking incredulous and somewhat disoriented. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah," I said, getting up. "I was just about to leave."

"No, don't! I mean, you just got here. Just—Shit, give me a minute." He covered his mouth with the back of his hand and yawned loudly, sounding exhausted, and then sat up straighter, giving me a great view of sexy bed hair.

Life was so unfair. Getting myself ready before I came down to see him earlier at my house took me helluva lot longer than that and I still didn't look halfway as presentable.

"It's okay, Seth. You need to rest."

"No, wait. I have to tell you something."

The sense of urgency in his voice made me want to hear him out, so when he patted a spot on his bed right next to him, I compromised by sitting down a little farther away, near the foot of it.

"I wanna talk about the things you said last night . . ."

"C'mon, I was drunk," I said, hoping to let both of us off the hook. "And even if I wasn't, you know I say dumb things all the time."

"It's not dumb to say what you're feeling," he said, talking a mile a minute. "It sucks when people tell you you're not supposed to, that you're just supposed to go along with whatever they want. 'Cause you owe them, or it'll make you look bad and kill your career if you don't or whatever . . .

'Kay, now you're just rambling, Seth," I said. Maybe he was still half-asleep.

"I'm glad you said something. How else would I know that I made you uncomfortable last night?" he said, slowing down, and then paused to take a breath. "And that other night, when I left."

"I don't know what you're talk—"

I stopped myself, uncertain how to proceed. I was under the impression that there was this unspoken agreement between us to act like that night never happened, which was just fine by me.

But, in all fairness, I was the first to break that agreement—and how! So there was no denying that what happened before was on my mind. My little meltdown in the Off-Kilter van made damn sure of that.

Best thing to do was to let do all the talking about the matter for now, and then drop the whole thing entirely as soon as he'd said his piece.

"I'm just—I mean, what were you thinking?"

Dammit, Adrian. That's not what we talked about.

"I guess I wasn't. I was freaking out about spending three whole months with my dad, and then you went all mushy on me—"

"I did not!" I straightened one leg as if to kick him, missing on purpose. "Ugh, fine! Maybe I did a little but only 'cause I was trying to cheer you up. Are you saying it's my fault?"

"No! I realized you were trying to do something nice and I read too much into it. I'm sorry about that, too."

"You're . . . sorry?"

This was new. Seth and I'd had countless fights over the years but I couldn't recall either one of us ever apologizing.

It was like he was like he had spoken in a foreign language.

Did he regret the kiss that much?

Whatever! Like that would bother me.

Seth nodded. "I don't want you to think I was trying to take advantage of our friendship." He rested his fingers lightly on the leg I tried to kick him with. "And I never want you to feel like you're not safe with me."

He looked so distressed, I felt kind of bad for making a big deal of it in the first place.

"Well, okay," I said, with as much casualness as I could muster to set him at ease.

"I promise not to do it again."

"Why not?" I asked, then promptly stifled a groan. Stupid mouth went rogue again.

Seth's eyebrows went up. "Unless . . . you want me to?"

"Oh God, no!" I said, so quickly and with a voice so high, I was practically squeaking. Which made him laugh. "Shut up, Seth."

"All I needed was a simple yes or no."

"I just wanna make sure there are no more misunderstandings. " I smiled, and, feeling more at ease, let myself fall back on his bed, squinting and splaying my hands to shield my eyes from the harsh daylight spilling in from the window directly above me. "Seriously, though, you've been very mature about this whole thing."

"Uh, thanks?"

"It's so unlike you."

"Shoulda known that wasn't a compliment," he said, chuckling. "Well, what can I say, Adrian? You made a man out of me."

Just like that, I felt tense again. Sometimes it felt like he was doing these things on purpose just to torture me. Maybe he wanted me to lose sleep over every little thing he said and did, turn it over and over in my mind until nothing became something.

I low-key widened the distance between us by rolling over on my side facing away from him. "I take it back," I said, mumbling. "You say dumber shit than I do."

Made a man out of him, my ass. I rolled my eyes and scoffed. What a stupid thing to say. What complete and utter bullshit. Why would I do such a thing when what I really wanted was the opposite?

What I wanted was for him to be a boy forever. I wanted him to be nine years old again, unattractive and uninterested in girls.

It was a selfish wish. I knew it wasn't the best time of his life.

It wasn't that great for me, either, honestly, but I didn't care. I'd go through it again, because back then, he wasn't going anywhere and being his friend was enough.