Ashley
I must have fallen asleep, but I'm awake now. I don't want to open my eyes, though. I want to go back to sleep. I want to dream nice dreams and forget everything else. It's easy right now, because Ethan is here with me. I thought it would be harder with him here, but it's not. It's easy because of how he's being when he's here, though.
He's not pressuring me. He's not staying too far away, either. He's actually very close. I have my arm around him and my cheek nestled against his chest. I'm not sure when that happened, but I like it. I should move away, I know it, but I don't, because I don't want to. I'm sleeping, right? I can blame it on that. If anyone sees us like this, I can just say I fell asleep. Maybe Ethan is asleep, too. It's an accident. No one can blame us for it, no one can judge us for this.
"Has she woken up yet?" my mom asks.
Oh my God, she's in my room? She can see me. I clench my eyes shut even harder and try to go back to sleep. If she knows I'm awake, I'll have to move away from him. I can't stay like this when I wake up.
"Nah, not yet," Ethan says. "I think she's waking up, though.
Why! Why did you say that, Ethan? I don't know why he said that. I guess I really do have to wake up now. I yawn and try to act normal. When I open my eyes and see myself laying on him, I scramble up and away like any normal stepsister in my situation would do. Right?
"What are you doing!" I say, sitting up and glaring at him. I try to sound properly indignant, but I'm pretty sure everything I just said sounds fake. Maybe I should have taken acting classes sometime. Life seems easier if you can pretend you're something else.
"Hey, look, you're the one who fell asleep on me," he says. "I was just trying to be nice."
"You?" I ask, rolling my eyes at him. "Nice? Since when has that ever happened."
"There's a first time for everything," Ethan says, smirking. "Don't get used to it, though. You're sick. That's the only reason."
Oh, right. I'm supposed to be sick. I kind of am sick. I still don't know how to deal with what I'm dealing with, but my head is a lot clearer now that I've taken a nap. I don't feel as stressed or hurt as I did before. I know I should, and I will soon enough, but right now I don't.
"What are you doing in here, Mom?" I ask, turning to her.
"I brought you soup," she says. "Some for you and some for Ethan. I thought it might help you feel better. Also, on Ethan's suggestion, I made some biscuits with melted cheese on top."
"Ooohh, I love those," I say. There's an entire plate full, too! They're really good, and I like them with soup since you can cut them in half and dip them in. The melted cheese just makes them better.
"Sounds like you're feeling a little better then?" my mom asks. "Are you hungry?"
I nod. "A little better. I'm hungry. How long was I sleeping?"
"Oh, a couple hours, I'd say. Right, Ethan?"
"Yeah, something like that," he says, shrugging.
"You should really thank Ethan for acting as your stuffed animal," my mom says, grinning. "He took it rather well, didn't he? I came in a few hours ago and you were like that, and then when I came back just now to bring up the soup, you were still there. You looked very comfortable."
Hours? What? And my mom knows? She saw all of it? She's playing it off, though. I think I know why. It makes more sense that way, right? It makes sense if it was an accident, and it makes sense if she doesn't think there's anything else going on between us. Which is good, because I don't want her to know the rest. I don't want her to hate me or hate him or think we're gross and disgusting or wrong. I don't want her to keep us separated for what we've done. Yes, we're adults, but we're both living here for the summer, so we aren't exactly free to do whatever. Even if we were away and on our own, I don't think we would ever truly be free from societal taboos.
"Thank you," I say, mumbling to Ethan. "You didn't have to do that, though. You shouldn't have. I must have done it when I was sleeping. Sorry."
Ethan shrugs, then ruffles my hair like I'm a kitten or something. I bristle and act accordingly, pretending to hiss at him. He grins and I laugh. My mother smiles at us.
"Glad to see you two are getting along better," my mom says. "I was hoping you'd both see the light some day."
"No," I say. "Ethan's still a jerk."
"Yeah yeah," Ethan says. "Thanks for the reminder, Little Miss Perfect."
"Jerk."
"Princess."
I don't like how he says that. I don't like that I like how he says that. It's like a secret code shared between the two of us. He really shouldn't do that when my mom is here. I scoot further away from him for good measure, but my very own mother thwarts my plan of separation. She places a medium-sized tray table with two bowls of soup partway between the two of us, forcing us to come closer together so we can eat.
"I could only find the one," she says, apologetic. "I'm not sure what happened to the other one."
I know what happened to it. It's on my side of the bed on the floor, hidden from view. I could reach down and get it right now so that Ethan and I can have our own spots to eat, separate from one another, but I don't. Hopefully my mom doesn't see it.
"Which one is mine?" I ask.
While I'm staring at both bowls, my mom places the platter of biscuits between us, too. It's warm, but not too hot. I can feel the heat of it sinking into the blankets by my legs.
"I'll let you two decide," she says. "One is Italian wedding, and the other is beef and barley."
"Ooohh." This is difficult. "I like both. Um... what do you want, Ethan?"
He shrugs. "I don't care. I like both, too."
"You could share?" my mother asks.
It sounds so innocuous and polite, but my mind has other ideas. I've shared a lot of myself with Ethan over the past few days, haven't I? I don't think I'll ever be able to forget it.
"You both eat half, then you switch?" my mom adds. "I bought plenty more soup, so there's a lot downstairs if you're still hungry after, too."
I want to ask why we need to share and switch if there's plenty more soup, but I also kind of like the idea of sharing and switching, so...
"Share?" I ask Ethan, giving him a funny look.
"I'm keeping my spoon, though," Ethan says. "Who knows what kind of cooties you have?"
"Cooties! This isn't second grade, Ethan."
My mom laughs. "Shush, you two. Behave. I'm going back downstairs to help your father, but let me know if you need anything. You can call me or have Ethan come get me. I bought some medicine if you need any, too, Ashley. I hope you feel better soon."
"I feel a lot better now, Mom," I say. "Thank you. I'm sure I'll feel better by tomorrow."
I don't know if I will, but I have to. I have to because of what I'm going to do. I'm going to do it because of moments like this, too. I don't want to ruin them. I don't want to destroy them. I want to keep them precious and safe and mine, and to do that, I...
I reach for a biscuit and pull it apart, then dip some into my soup. I want to forget, at least for now. Ethan takes a biscuit and rips it apart, too, but then he dips it into... my soup.
"That's my soup," I tell him, scrunching up my nose.
"I thought we were sharing?" he says.
My mom is gone now. She closed the door behind her, too. It's just us.
"I'm sick, Ethan. Feed me?" I ask, smiling. I wonder if he'll do it?
"Are you serious?" he asks, giving me a funny look.
I nod quick. "Maybe?"
"Make up your mind, Princess!"
"I could be a little sick," I say.
Ethan picks up his spoon and dips it into my soup, then holds his hand beneath it while he brings it to my mouth. I open my lips and let him feed me like that. I swallow the soup and open my mouth again for more, but he gives me something else instead.
Leaning close, he kisses me quick. It's soft and fleeting, but nice and sweet, too. As soon as I start to kiss him back, he pulls away.
"What was that for?" I ask. "You're not supposed to do that."
"Nah, it's cool," he says. "Just kissing it better. That's how this works, right?"
"Again, this isn't second grade," I say, laughing at him.
"Yeah, you were a lot cuter in second grade," he says. "Too bad."
"I'm still cute!"
"Yeah, you're pretty cute," he says, shrugging. "Kind of sort of maybe a little."
"You don't think I'm cute?" I ask, frowning. It's kind of sort of maybe a little fake, but a frown is a frown.
"Nah, you're cute, Princess. Don't worry. Different kind of cute now, though."
"Can I have another kiss for being cute?" I ask him.
"Wow, greedy much?" he says, grinning. "Yeah, come here. Just one more."
He kisses me again, and I kiss him back. I wish we could stay like this forever.
"I'll need another kiss later," I say. "At least a goodnight kiss. That's all. It's not for any other reason."
"I'll give you a goodnight kiss alright," he says, growling at me.
"Ethan," I say, waving my spoon at him like a teacher's ruler. "You need to behave!"
"I'll get right to work on that," he says, rolling his eyes at me.
"These biscuits are really good, huh?"
"Yeah, the cheese is great."
"Thanks for telling my mom to add it," I say. "How does it taste with your soup?" I ask, but I'm already dipping my biscuit in his bowl before he can answer.
"Well why don't you just try it for yourself!" he says, grumbling as I taste and chew the biscuit dipped in his soup.
"It's good," I say. "Here, you try mine."
He does. I give him an extra spoonful of soup and feed him like he fed me before, too.
"Good, huh?"
"Yeah, it's good, Princess. Really good. You want to watch a movie or something?"
"Alright," I say. "You pick. Pick from your Netflix profile. I want to see what movies you like."
"You're saying you've never snooped on my profile?" he asks, grinning.
"Nope!" I say. It's a lie; I have.
"Liar."
"Nope!"