now I’ll stop thinking about Ethan once and for all.
“I’m glad you came with me, Wingfield. I would have bet money you wouldn’t have come. Not in a million years.”
“Yeah, well, I probably shouldn’t have,” I mumble through the warm, damp wool of my scarf. Bits of fibers stick in my mouth and I want to reach up and move it away, but my arms are pinned by his embrace. My stomach lurches again, knowing I’m out here alone with him. He could do anything he wanted. I’m fifteen, and no one knows where I am. I shouldn’t have lied to my mom.
I wriggle free and turn to face him, a little terrified, but also exhilarated. Of course he won’t do that. He seems to like me.
“I’m probably going to die of frostbite,” I say, and he loosens his grip, and pulls my scarf down off my mouth, runs his thumb over my lower lip and says, “What was that you said?”
“Frostbite,” I repeat. “You and me, here, frozen to death. Two blocks of ice in a snowbank.”
“Nope,” he says. “I wouldn’t let that happen. And anyway, you’re wrong. Fire, not ice.” He slides his thumb back and forth over my lip, making a current run through me, from my mouth down my body, beneath my coat.
“Huh?” I whisper.
He leans in and places his warm lips over mine. The kiss is so soft. So tender. It’s everything. When he straightens, he looks me in the eyes.
“‘Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice.’” His thumb is back on my lip, the touch melting me even more than the kiss, so maybe he’s right. “‘From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire.’ So, see?” His mouth brushes mine, less gentle, a bit more insistent. So good, my legs are trembling. I have no idea what he’s said, but I don’t care. His words thrill me. He thrills me. I’ve never felt this ready for anything—ever—in my whole life.
MID-MAY
TENTH GRADE
Max slows when he sees me—sees Ethan—stopping several yards from us, straddling the still-idling bike. Despite its low hum, the air hangs silent, a distant high-pitched ringing in my ears.
“What’s that douchebag doing here?” Ethan asks. “No worries, I’ll get rid of him.”
Aubrey definitely hasn’t told him anything.
“Ethan, wait—”
He turns, must catch my tone, whatever look is on my face, because he says, “Oh, geez. Tell me that’s not who you’re waiting for?” I don’t answer. “Seriously, Markham? That asshole?”
“He’s not an asshole.” I want to scream, but instead I barely say it loud enough for him to hear. But I should. I should tell Ethan how smart Max is, how he recites sonnets to me, how even Hankins likes him, and how Max has stuck by me for almost three months, which is more than I can say for everyone else who says they care. But I don’t. Max doesn’t need defending. Not by me. And not to Ethan. Not to anyone.
Ethan turns toward Max, and back to me, his face still twisted with confusion.
“We’re dating,” I clarify. “Since February. I figured your nosy sister might have told you.” I sound mad. Defensive. I guess maybe I am.
I walk toward the curb, and Max finally takes off his helmet, steps away from his bike, and walks to me. His hair is matted with sweat, his step heavy in his jeans, in this heat, and his lumberjack boots. His scruffy face wears a look of something I can’t exactly define, hurt, maybe, mixed with defiance, and a hint of, “I might have to kick your ass.”
Ethan, in his tennis shorts and pale mint polo, looks baby-faced and insignificant.
“That’s a fact, Andersson,” Max says, moving toward Ethan intentionally, veering away at the last second as he walks past. “We’re together, JL and me. I take it you don’t have an issue with that?” Max’s voice, the words he chooses, loose in the air, how he calls me by my name rather than one of his nicknames, all sound less weird and disjointed than I worried they would. They actually sound romantic and beautiful.
When he reaches me, he drapes both arms across my shoulders, and leans in to kiss me. His lips taste like sweat and dust, and the faint hint of a pungent-sweet smoke. “Sorry,” he says, “Lost track of time. Not to mention, took a spill. Dean and me had a little collision on the bikes.”
Finally, I notice the smear of tan dirt up