•<The Kiss>•

           Can't you see that I'm falling
                Can't you see that I'm falling,
                                   falling for you
       Show me where your heart is
            Can't you see that I'm falling, falling
                                        for you.
                                          •
                                 Why Don't We

               •<>•

I slowly trace the lines on my canvas with a light brushstroke, dipping the brush back into the paint after each pass. I keep doing this, pausing every time to glance at what I've created before adding more color.

My thoughts stray from what's in front of me once more, going back to the Halloween party and remembering everything that transpired. It felt good to be back with the girls after being away from them for so long, and as I watched them get closer, I became curious when I saw that Autumn had a bitter expression on her face while Key had none.

I parted my lips and urged them to tell me what had happened, and Autumn began to complain immediately. Her expression was so clear-cut that it was obvious what had happened—she sounded disappointed and upset.

After shifting in my seat and taking a moment to study my artwork, I release a soft breath — feeling satisfied. When I glance at Ethan, my heart skips a beat as I find him looking at me with a mix of admiration and longing in his eyes.

As he looks away shortly after our eyes meet, my chest eases, and I exhale slowly. It's not the first time I've caught him staring at me today; in fact, his eyes have been wandering about, falling on me several times and diverting them away from me whenever I meet his gaze.

His mind is holding so many things, pinning down so many words, and holding back his freedom—the freedom to say whatever he needs to let out, the freedom to do what he desires, the freedom to happiness—I don't know what's going through his mind, but I bet he's in agony.

Looking at my paintbrush, memories of the Halloween party flood my mind. I remember Autumn's upset expression as she complained about Key's interaction with her crush. It made me feel sorry for Key, and even though we always respect her decisions, seeing her reject any potential lover breaks my heart.

Her casual demeanor towards it was saddening, not because she had rejected someone for the millionth time, but rather because of the way she truly feels on the inside. Despite her best efforts to hide her feelings, there is a great deal of pain and a lot of unspoken words.

She hasn't talked to her Mom in ages, and it's clear she's still upset about what happened years ago. Whenever her mom comes up, bitterness fills her, and her cheerful demeanor quickly turns into irritation if we don't steer clear of the topic despite the warnings.

I hear faint noises and quickly realize that class has ended. Students are getting up from their seats, chatting, and putting their canvases away in the storage room. Shifting my eyes to Keyara, she cocks her eyebrows as she narrows her eyes at me.

"Are you alright?" she asks, her words mirroring the concern on her face.

"Yeah," I reply right away, aiming for a convincing tone, hoping she believes it.

As her eyes stay fixed on me, a moment of discomfort passes through me, but it fades the instant her expression softens. "Alright, um, listen."

Sitting back in her chair, she pulls it closer to me. "I need a favor. I have a group meeting in less than three minutes," she mentions, checking her watch and then looking up at me, "With everyone moving so slowly here, I won't be able to take my canvas in the storage room and still make it to my meeting on time. Would you please help me put it away?"

"Sure," I reply instantly, "Should I wait for you? Or should I take the bus home?"

"I might be gone for a while so maybe --" Her teeth grip the corner of her bottom lip, and her eyes mirror only an apology and concern.

"It's okay, I'll be fine," I smile at her, "Now go on, you don't wanna be late for your meeting." I shoo her away.

She smiles at me and mouths a thank you before leaving the room and fading into the crowd in the hallway.

Relaxing in my seat, I watch students entering and exiting the storage room. Looking around for Ethan, I notice that he's nowhere in sight.

He must have left early.

As the last group of students exits the storage room and leaves the classroom, I grab Key's canvas and guide them to the storage area where the remaining students' canvases are placed.

Now that the classroom is empty, I quicken my steps and carry the last few items from my seat to the storage room. After carefully placing my canvas next to Key's, I turn to put the remaining items on the shelf, only to freeze at the sound of a familiar voice.

Turning around slowly, my heart almost stops when I see who's standing before me. A sharply squared jaw, dark brown hair closely cropped with longer layers on top and sides pulled back, thick, long lashes, and beautiful eyes that never cease to mesmerize me each time they meet mine.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I didn't think there would be any students left," he says, glancing around the small, cramped space we're in.

After summoning the strength to speak, I look at him but quickly shift my gaze away when our eyes meet. "I'll be done soon." My voice, though low, is audible enough for him to respond.

"No worries, just ensure nothing falls to the floor," he adds, looking past me with his hands resting on his waist.

"Sure." I nod, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact with him.

After one more glance around, he turns slowly and leaves the room — leaving me breathless and nearly paralyzed.

Resuming what I was doing before his unexpected presence, I delicately set the box of charcoal atop the others.

The memory of Dalton and I sitting together on the bench on the night of Halloween causes me to pinch my eyes shut, in an attempt to cast the memory away.

I'm still not over what happened and as much as I've tried to burn the memory, it keeps popping up in my head, tormenting me to the point I cringe at the thought of it.

I still can't believe that happened!

Recalling the look in his eyes as they lingered in mine, I stop what I'm doing. I'm still trying to wrap my head around what happened but I've been unsuccessful. I didn't know Dalton's feelings for me never went away until he made it clear when he attempted to kiss me.

How did we go from talking about how it was a crazy idea to dress up as Catwoman when I hardly know the character to nearly kissing?

Despite being frozen, I was able to alleviate the awkward moment by striking up a new conversation when his eyes lingered on me long enough.

He awkwardly withdrew, and I could see a hint of embarrassment paint his cheeks. I couldn't help but feel bad for him and angry at myself when I realized that he still felt the same way about me as he did months ago. I never gave him hope that we would ever be together, and I never thought that our friendship would be misconstrued.

I never meant to mislead him. I didn't mean to hurt him.

I don't know how he does it, but he has a knack for lightening the mood with a joke in any situation, and thankfully, his demeanor helped to dispel the awkwardness that hung in the air just moments ago.

As I'm placing the final box of charcoal on the shelf, everything crashes to the ground the instant I hear a familiar voice from behind me.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, again," Ethan says, coming to my aid, "Let me help."

His offer to help is more like a statement given that he's already crouched — picking up the items on the floor.

"Are you alright?" he asks sincerely, as he places some items back on the shelf while the others remain on the floor.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I respond before picking a few boxes off the floor.

Noticing how he's been acting strangely lately, I can't help but wonder why he came back here, and as silence crawls in, my body tenses — a reaction to our closeness. I don't know if I'll survive this.

Feeling the urge to break the awkward silence, I cautiously part my lips to speak, "Today was fun," I say softly. He remains silent, continuing to pick up the remaining items from the floor, and this causes waves of doubts to flood my mind.

Is he not interested in talking to me? Did I do something wrong? Maybe I should stop talking.

"Yeah, I noticed how you were playing around with the colors. It's starting to look like you're not afraid of getting your hands dirty anymore, are you?" he utters — not meeting my gaze and his face is expressionless.

He was watching me?

His words catch me off guard, and I find it challenging to respond; it's only after I take a deep breath that I finally speak, "What can I say? Art is fun, I don't mind staining my hands with paint. Besides, I've been learning a lot and I wanted to try something different today."

He simply nods — continuing to organize the tools in their respective boxes. Silence sneaks in once again, casting a layer of awkwardness over the room. There are still a couple of items left to put back on the shelf and as much as I want to get this done quickly, a part of me is enjoying having him this near. It feels like it's been ages since we stood this close together and I just want to bask in this moment regardless of the uncomfortable silence and tension engulfing it.

Placing my hand on the shelf before putting the brushes where they belong, our hands brush against each other, sending a sensation through me as if I've just been electrocuted.

"Sorry," he says solemnly and carries on with putting the brushes in his hands where they belong.

The unspoken words and aftermath of what just happened are telling enough just how much of a spark that brief contact has ignited between us given how distracted he seems to be.

Shortly after, he pauses and turns his head to me. Unable to look back at him, I fix my eyes on what I'm doing, and it's only after he says something that I stop what I'm doing and turn my head to face him.

"Why did you stay?" he asks, almost as if he's thinking out loud while maintaining eye contact with me.

Confused, I ask him to explain what he meant by that and he does so right away. 

"Why did you stay even after the embarrassing situation you put yourself in on the first day of my class? Why did you stay even when I was giving you a hard time?"

Taken aback by his words, I struggle to think straight. My mind's a whirlwind I can't think of anything to say other than to ask him why he's asking me this all of a sudden.

"I'm just wondering," he says simply as he flits his eyes between mine; his face is relaxed and soft just like his voice that always has my heart racing.

Upon wetting my lips, I revert my gaze to him before speaking. This is out of the blue but if he wants answers, I might as well give them to him, right? "Before joining your class, I was advised to join an elective course, and out of every course I attended, yours seemed to be the most relaxing and peaceful."

"Everything I did to you in the beginning wasn't exactly peaceful and relaxing," he says as he looks at me confused, "So what made you stay?"

You.

The need to tell him the whole truth tenses on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell him that he's the reason I stayed beside the peacefulness and relaxation his class brought on my anxious mind. It is true that every day in his class brought a constant sense of anxiety and nervousness for me. It still does. While all that is true, I can't deny that for him, I didn't mind. I don't mind going through all those emotions as long as he's around, because at the end of the scorching sun, there is always a beautiful sunset I'm always looking forward to basking in.

His eyes are still lingering on me, and I suppose he's ignorant to the fact that his eyes are giving away his secrets — his admiration for me, given the way he's looking at me.

My heart is racing like a speeding bullet train and my breath is hitched in my throat I can barely breathe. His gaze is like the glowing sun — strong enough to blind you and yet, you can't look away because of how beautiful it is.

Upon summoning the strength to speak, I part my lips slightly and I notice how his gaze darts to my lips at my action and back up to my eyes, "I stayed because your class has something I couldn't find in any other class. It is true that this place hasn't been beds and roses for me, but, there's something about it that I can't seem to let go of despite the thorns that keep pricking my skin. I don't know how to put it into words, but, there's nowhere I'd rather be than here." I say solemnly and pull my lips into a flat line while holding his gaze.

He's silent, taking me in with admiration as if I just gave the most incredible speech at a special event.

Following a short pause of silence and intense gazing, he begins to raise his hand slowly and steadily; and the moment it aligns with my face, he pauses. It's as if he's holding back whatever it is that he wants to do and after what felt like an eternity, he brings his hand to my face and slips it under my hair — the pad of his thumb resting perfectly on my cheek while the rest of his fingers find a resting place at the back of my head.

Speechless, I stay still under his warm, gentle touch that has cast a spell on me. My heart quickens its beating at his soft touch and is threatening to burst free as nerves fire off inside my body.

How can this be?

None of us have said a word, we're frozen and are incapable of tearing our gaze from each other as our eyes speak a thousand words we're trying to confess to each other with words.

Dragging his eyes between mine and my lips, he starts to feather the pad of his thumb against my cheek, his touch is so tender and loving that I'm unable to move due to the spell this action has cast over me.

Then, with his lips slightly parted, his breath coming in short gasps, and his eyes soft and captivating, he begins to lean in slowly and steadily.

When he's just a breath apart, he halts. His chest is heaving, his breath is shaking and I can feel its warmth brush up on my lips — nearly suffocating my senses.

His breath is refreshing and so inviting.

I want to plunge my lips into his and claim them, however, I'm too incapacitated to move a muscle let alone breathe.

Is this really happening? Is he going to kiss me?

He then lightly brushes his lips on mine, it's not a tease but rather, a manifestation of the turmoil going on inside of him I suppose. He's been lingering closely over my face for some time, as breaths of desire slip past his lips only to brush up on mine. From his body language, I can tell that he wants to kiss me, but for some reason, he's hesitant.

Just as all hope starts to fade away, he tenderly captures my bottom lip between his lips at a relaxed pace. His lips are warm and soft like silk and they taste like honey, and as he pulls away only for him to part my lips with his repeatedly, adrenaline courses through my veins like electric waves.

I can feel the warmth and joy that have blossomed in my chest, my heart doing backflips, and butterflies dancing in my stomach as I feel the gentle tickle of his breath on my skin and his fingers running through my hair as we breathe each other in.

Am I dreaming? Ethan Myers is kissing me.

As our lips fold over each other so tenderly and passionately, I feel a beautiful sensation run through my body. In this moment, nothing else seems to matter but the kiss given where we are. The worry and fear of getting caught seem to be non-existent, everything has dissipated, the world around us has ceased to exist, and we find ourselves in the enchanting realm of pure, unbridled emotion, where our hearts dance in perfect harmony.

If I had guessed that this is what kissing Ethan Myers feels like, I would have initiated the kiss a long time ago because, honestly, I don't think I'll ever recover from this high. He's scrambled my mind with the cloud-like softness and sweetness of his lips. He's engulfed my heart with the warmth of his kiss and paralyzed my whole being with his touch.

What are you doing to me, Ethan Myers?

He then parts his lips from mine at a pace that feels like he's not ready to let me go yet. His eyes are not burning with passion as they once were and his expression is unreadable. As he frees his hand from my hair, a sudden chill courses through my body, causing a sharp stinging sensation.

The look in his eyes is making me question if everything is alright, if I did something wrong; but I guess I won't have my questions answered because he has started to walk away— his expression still marked by confusion.

"Sorry, I di-I didn't mean to do that. I — I have to go. Don't forget to close the doors on your way out, I'll — I'll come back to lock everything up later," he says as he runs his fingers through his dark brown hair — his steps gradually distancing him from me until he disappears from view, leaving me wondering what just happened.

      AN

-How do you feel about Ethan and Mallory's first kiss and Ethan's actions after that?

-Meanwhile, here's me after writing this chapter.

     ***
Thank you so much for getting this far, much appreciated. Don't forget to vote, comment and share. It'd be nice to hear from you and your honest opinions/thoughts about the story.
                                         🧡🤎