16

MY FIRST THOUGHT is that she's going to kiss me.

Or I'm going to kiss her.

In the moment, I don't really care which. But then her eyes cast downward and she leans away, and I know that whatever the hell just happened, was completely one-sided.

But I immediately realize something.

I wanted to kiss Lila Matthews.

Jesus.

What the hell is wrong with me? I work down a swallow as I lean back in my seat. The cafeteria is still buzzing, though lunch is now over. And it's just me and Lila at the table.

Alone.

There'd be no reason to kiss her—especially when no one's watching. I'd taken a risk by kissing her cheek earlier. I didn't even realize what I was doing until my lips were pressed against her cheek and there was no going back.

No one seemed to notice anything off—in their eyes we are one happy couple—but Lila went rigid, as if in shock.

Alone, we're friends. In public, we're friends with a lie hanging between us.

I can see why she was confused.

There's no room for kissing. Ever.

Not that I haven't kissed before—I have. Though the first two times I was drunk, so I don't know if they count. And the others were meaningless kisses that kind of sucked now that I think back on them.

Lila looks back at me, drawing me out of my thoughts, "I, uh, have a question." She suddenly says.

I glance over at her, trying to plaster on a nonchalant smirk, though my heart is beating too fast. Fuck. "What is it you need?"

She raises a brow at my switch in tone. I almost bite my tongue, more of my stupid British accent about to spew out. I don't exactly remember when I started using it as a nervous tic, but it's now engraved there.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Lila mutters.

I almost thank her, but quickly catch myself.

"Anyway," she emphasizes. "I was just going to ask if the whole...PDA...thing is going to be more frequent?" She sounds timid, not at all her usual back off, or I'll bite you tone.

"Did I make you uncomfortable?" I ask quickly. That's the absolute last thing I want. And I was stupid enough not to even discuss it with her beforehand.

"No!" She says quickly. "It's just...I want to know...you know, how far it'll go?" she cringes at her own explanation.

"You mean kissing?" I ask, slightly amused.

She shrugs.

"I don't know. Would you wanna kiss me, Chase?" She says with a light laugh, as if it's hard to believe.

Yes, I think before I can stop myself. I don't say this aloud, though. I can't risk her punching me. Again.

"It depends, I think," I cough, pressing my chin into my hands.

"On...?" she trails off, waving her hand about.

"Think of it this way—if someone tried to hit on you, I would have to show my alpha male dominance by making out with you in front of them," I shrug, trying not to laugh.

She's silent for a moment, then her mouth opens and a laugh bursts out of her. She rubs at her eyes once she's recovered, though her eyes crinkle with her smile, "You have the dominance of a turtle."

I clutch my heart, "I do not."

Her smile widens, and for a moment I'm entranced. "You do."

I scoff, "I'm deeply offended."

Her tongue pokes her cheek, "I can see."

She can't see shit, apparently. Because I'm definitely not offended. I'm just waiting for her to smile again.

And when I tell her I have to be my alpha male self in the English room, she smiles once more. And I train my eyes on every line of her face, trying to engrave it in my head.

"I'll see you after school?" Lila's the one who asks, and I think it surprises us both.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." I reply, then I make my way to my next class.

Lila opens the door on my second knock.

My eyes cascade down her form to take in the familiarity of her dark jeans and cable-knit sweater. I'm pretty sure she lives and breathes in those. I don't mind though.

A smile tugs on my lips when our eyes meet again and she then looks down to my hands.

"You brought flowers?" She asks, disbelief causing her brows to tilt down.

I hold them out for her to take, the Lilacs and white Roses prominently sticking out. "Yes. I brought flowers. I saw them and thought about you, actually."

Her eyes widen and I realize how that might sound so I quickly clear my throat and explain, "You know, you're name is Lila, and they're Lilacs...thought it fit," I huff.

A small laugh escapes her and she opens the door further. "Thank you, Chase. They're great." And when she smiles, I really think she means it.

Something in me warms as she beckons me inside, and I'm met with the familiar warmth of her house.

The horror film posters are still strung up on the wall, but contrary to when I first came here, I see now how much they make up her house.

Like all of the random decor is loose puzzle pieces that fit together somehow perfectly.

Lila steps around me with that same small smile on her lips. Something like pride consumes me at the thought that I put that smile there.

"Mom's in the kitchen," she says, jerking her thumb behind her. "And my dad is in the living room," she leans closer now, "and uh, when you talk to him—do not bring up cars."

I raise a brow at her, preparing to ask what she means by that, but she only gives me a tight smile paired with a warning look and makes her way toward the living room. I have no choice but to follow her, though nervousness eats away at me.

The piano is positioned just by the fireplace, and who I assume is Mr. Matthews stands next to it with a glass of what looks to be scotch in his hand.

Lila's dad is not at all how I expected him to be. I thought he would be methodical, and lanky probably, considering he is a doctor. One that carries his stethoscope around his neck at all times.

But when I take in the ink covering his forearms and the muscles bulging from his t-shirt, I realize quickly that he's more WBA than pediatrician.

The guy is intimidating as hell.

Like father, like daughter.

Though when he sees his daughter, the hard lines of his face break out into a smile, and he plants a kiss on the top of her head.

But then his gaze shifts to me and I swear I'm shocked into place. "Dad..." Lila begins. "This is Chase. My, uh, boyfriend."

Hearing her call me that is still strange even to my own ears, and I feel my cheeks heat when her eyes shift to mine briefly.

I try my best to give Mr. Matthews a convincing smile, though his eyes only narrow further. I stick my out hand, "It's great to meet you," I say earnestly.

A moment passes before he takes my hand into his and mutters. "What are your intentions with my daughter?"

"Dad!" Lila sputters, glaring at him.

Her dad suddenly laughs, throwing his head back. "I'm only kidding," he says, letting my hand go. "It's great to see you too, son. We've heard lots about you." He sends a wink my way.

Lila's cheeks flame red at his statement and I fight to keep a triumphant smile off my face as I glance towards her.

"But if you do hurt my daughter," Mr. Matthews suddenly says, turning back to me. "There won't be anything left for the next girl, got it?"

Lila places her head into the palm of her hand embarrassedly, and I nod my head thoroughly. "Got it."

He smiles again and gives me pat on my shoulder before walking into the kitchen.

"Shut up," Lila mumbles, once her dad is out of ear-shot, and I can only imagine she's thinking about how her dad exposed her.

I place my hands up in mock-defense. "I didn't say anything."

She narrows her eyes on me but quickly replaces it with an award-winning smile when we walk into the kitchen.

Mrs. Matthews stands with her hands on her hips as she scolds Mr. Matthews. She's about half his size but Mr. Matthews still has the decency to look shameful under his wife's scrutiny.

"Leave the boy alone," she finishes, then turns to me with the biggest smile I've ever seen. "I'm so happy you could make it!" She says, stepping away from the island and towards me.

Before I can blink, she has her arms wrapped around me in a bone-crushing hug.

"Mom, can you let him breath, please?" Lila groans.

Mrs. Matthews steps back and gives her a daughter a look, "You can have him back in a moment, honey."

I hold back a laugh as Lila mutters, "He's not the TV remote."

Mrs. Matthews ignores her as she begins to pepper me with questions, and I do my best to answer each one honestly.

I don't mind Lila's mother's attention, though I am embarrassed to realize I enjoy it.

I haven't had someone care about my daily life this much in a very long time.

By the time, Mrs. Matthews has every aspect of my life down, we're all seated around the wooden table.

The plates of food in front of me look good enough for my mouth to water, and I instantly remember how I haven't eaten since our lunch period.

I had debated to after I had gotten home but decided against it. I didn't want to be full when I came over, knowing that Mrs. Matthews would likely be disappointed if I didn't want to eat her food.

Though, looking at it now I don't think any amount of food would make me full enough not to eat it.

"So," Mr. Matthews begins, placing a bite of food into his mouth. "Lila tells me you're a football player?"

I swallow before nodding once. "I am."

"Which position?" He questions, leaning back in his seat.

"I'm a quarterback." I say, ripping a piece of bread off.

Lila watches us with something like hopefulness in her eyes, though when her gaze meet mine she quickly looks away.

"Ah. The quarterback," he says, shaking his head. "You know, I used to be one too."

"Marcus," Mrs. Matthews groans, giving him a warning look.

"What?" He says defensively. "It's true. Everyone loved me."

"Not everyone," Mrs. Matthews says, raising a brow at him.

"Oh, that's right," he says nodding toward Lila. "Her mother hated me. Until I showed her my car and then boom, she was head over heels."

Lila groans as Mrs. Matthews slaps her husband's arm. "Marcus! That's not how it happened! You're going to make me sound like I married you for money!"

He looks genuinely confused for a moment, "Didn't you?"

I poke my tongue into the side of my cheek to keep from laughing and my eyes involuntarily flit over to Lila who's cheeks appear to be flushed.

She leans closer to me and whispers, "Would you believe me if I told you they're not usually like this," then looks over to where her parents are arguing and blows out a breath. "Well, they are, but I'm guessing you probably already knew that."

"I didn't, but I had a hunch," I whisper back.

"Alright, alright!" Mr. Matthews suddenly says, throwing his hands up. "You win, Elle. You win." He blows out a breath and narrows his eyes at his wife, who happens to have a very triumphant smile plastered onto her face.

"I always win," she flaunts, winking at Lila and I.

Lila shakes her head though the amused smile on her face contradicts her action. I wonder how many smiles I'll be able to get from her.

And I wonder if she notices that I notice them all. That I notice everything about her, even when I'm not trying to.

Once we've finished off with dinner, we all sit around the table whilst Mrs. Matthews tells us the story of how Lila was convinced that the boy who kissed her in the second grade had gotten her pregnant.

"She tan all the way home yapping about how much it would hurt when the time came!" Mrs. Matthews sputters.

Lila tries to deny everything Mrs. Matthews says but by the time the story's over, she's laughing too.

I haven't felt what it's like to sit around a kitchen table and eat a home cooked meal in years. Who knew I would be able to feel like a teenager again at Lila Matthews' house?

The oddity of it all brings a smile to my face as I glance over at Lila. Can she tell through my smile that I haven't done this in a while?

A part of me desperately hopes not. Around her, I don't feel like the fucked up kid with a fucked up life.

And I pray to God she doesn't see me that way either.

"You know," Mrs. Matthews says once she's calmed down. "I'm so glad you could make it today and that you're feeling better, hun."

My brows draw in. Feeling better?

"I was so upset to hear from Lila that you weren't feeling good! You need to be taking care of yourself, got it?"

"Oh, uh," I glance towards Lila quickly but she can't seem to meet my eye, casting her gaze toward the empty plate in front of her. I swallow, "Yes, ma'am."

She nods her head affirmatively and her and Mr. Matthews begin to pick up the plates, leaving me and Lila alone at the table.

My heart steadily pounds against my chest, and questions race through my head: Did she not want me here? Why did she lie? Was she embarrassed? Does she think I'm fucked up?

I clear my throat and glance away from where she sits, fully aware of the now awkward tension hanging between us.

Laughter filters from the kitchen and I try my best to ignore it.

"Chase—" Lila begins, then cuts herself off, as if she isn't sure of what she wants to say. She lets out a breath and begins again. "Thank you—for the flowers."

For a second I almost don't believe she's being serious, the space between my eyebrows crease as I look toward her and find that her expression is stoic.

"So, that's it, then?" I say, my voice coming out far lower than I had intended. "You could have told me you didn't want me here," I whisper. "I wouldn't have come." A humorless laugh leaves me.

She leans forward slightly and shakes her head. "That isn't what—"

Mrs. Matthews waltzes in with a smile plastered onto her face and what looks to be a cake in her hands, Mr. Matthews with some plates.

"Who's ready for dessert?" She sings, setting it down onto the table.

I try my best to mirror her giddy expression but I can only assume it doesn't look as natural.

I screw my eyes closed for a moment, just eat one slice of cake, then get the fuck out of here.

And that's exactly what I do. My heart feeling heavy the entire time.