Life's A Witch

Chapter Eighteen

His lips felt good on mine and we kissed feverishly at first, quickly melting into each other. I didn't even stop to think if it was a good idea, I just did it. Our lips parted as we got more comfortable with each other; he tasted faintly of black licorice, a candy I'd never really liked until now. I toyed with the idea of leading him upstairs to my room, but then thought better of it. First off, I wasn't sure I wanted to be alone with him in a room with a bed on account of the fact that we barely knew each other. For all I knew, he could be a normal high school student by day and a psycho serial killer at night. A cute serial killer of course, but still.

Besides, there was no reason to head upstairs, anyway—we didn't exactly need more privacy in a house that was already empty. I was its only occupant, and it wasn't like anyone was going to come home and catch me making out with a boy I hardly knew.

Other kids my age would die for the opportunity to have their house to themselves so they could be alone with a cute guy, and here I was wishing my parents were here to catch me. Life could be really messed up sometimes.

I couldn't keep my mind on what Asher and I were doing while I was thinking about my parents and what had most likely happened to them. Talk about a mood killer. So with the hand that had been running up Asher's chest I gently pushed him away until we were on opposite sides of the couch, staring at each other.

"What's wrong? Are we going too fast?" he asked, out of breath. I seemed to be having the same problem.

"No. No, that's not it," I said, shaking my head.

"What is it, then?"

I couldn't exactly say that I'd suddenly lost my appetite for him because he made me think of my dead parents. Not only would that make him as depressed as I was now, but if he asked what happened to them, I'd either have to lie and make something up, or tell him the truth and then attempt to explain what had been going on in my life over the past few weeks. Neither of these options seemed viable to me. Not if I wanted to try and get back on track with Asher.

"I've sort of got a headache and I'm not sure when my parents are getting home," I said finally. Technically this wasn't a lie; I wasn't sure when my parents would be home—if my dad was coming home at all. I knew I wasn't telling him the entire truth, and I didn't want to start a potential relationship based on lies. Technicalities . . . now those were a different thing entirely.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked. I could tell by the sound of his voice that he didn't want to. I smiled. He'd asked me this question once before and I didn't have an answer for him then. Now I did. It might not have been smart, but . . .

"Not at all," I said reassuringly. Then I stood to leave. I needed to take a minute to collect myself and try to put aside the thoughts of my parents, which had blocked me in the first place. "Hang out. Get comfortable. I'm just going to get some Tylenol and I'll be back. Can I get you something to drink?"

Asher looked happy to hear that he wasn't being kicked out of the house just yet and did as I suggested, snuggling back into onto the middle of the soft cushions. "Sure. I'll take whatever you're having."

"Okay. The remote's there if you want to look for something else."

I gave him a smile I hoped would make up for the fact that I'd put us on ice for the time being and then retreated into the kitchen. The Tylenol was up in the corner cabinet and after shaking two out into my palm, I tossed them into my mouth and chased them with a swig of root beer. Truth be told, my head was throbbing—well, my whole body hurt, really. After everything that had happened yesterday, I knew that what the doctor ordered was probably just a good night's sleep. But with any luck, I wouldn't be going to bed anytime soon, thus the need for Tylenol. Snagging another can of soda from the fridge, I went to leave when something outside the window stopped me in my tracks.