My Life as a Teenage Rebel

Chapter 39: Apologies Are Contagious

Ky Madison

CHAPTER 39 Apologies Are Contagious

“We don’t want you to leave.” I admit almost quietly. I’m looking down at Evan’s wide, brightened green eyes, but in my mind I see his aunt and cousin watching us quizzically. Internally, I exhale shortly. There is only one other time I’ve allowed someone we’ve grown to care about to slip from our fingertips, and that was for a specific circumstance.

We don’t like being left behind. We don’t like being forgotten.

Counting on Stanley and his mother to still be watching, I lean down carefully, and kiss Evan on the mouth.

He stiffens, as anticipated. I guess I could’ve warned him. Like: “Hey, I’m about to kiss you so that your aunt will see that you’ve got reasons to stay around here. Now keep still.” But that would have been weird, wouldn’t it? And there’s always a chance that he would have spontaneously jumped up and ran away had he known I was going to do this.

Heck, most of the guys I’ve kissed would have run away had they known I was going to kiss them…mostly because I was only kissing them to make Kyle jealous enough to beat the crap out of them.

Hey, I’ve said that we’ve changed, alright?!

This is different from those times though… And it’s not like when I had to kiss Andrew either (P.S. B-L-E-G-H from both perspectives, as I’ve already mentioned before). This is the first time I’ve willingly kissed someone without having bad intentions behind it, and I guess it’s…not so bad. Warm…gentle…

I mean, the guy’s really tense right now, but nonetheless…

But then I feel Evan ever so slightly…relax from underneath me.

I let out a small, barely audible laugh. I always seem to underestimate you, don’t I?

He is still, and unmoving, but relaxed. His mouth is surprisingly soft, like touching your lips to the petal of a rose…although, unlike the petal of a rose, because he is more alive, thus his lips grow steadily warmer. It’s a nice feeling, the warmth of his mouth. That I’ll admit to.

Gently pulling our lips away, the first thing I do is look up to see if his relatives are still standing at the doorway, behind the glass.

And they’re there alright.

Aunt Judy is staring with eyes so wide that they could easily be saucers; Stanley is openly gaping, his mouth hanging open for the whole world to see his uvula.

Aunt Judy blushes as red as her blazer when she sees me, and hurries out of view…only to come back a second later to yank her gaping son away.

Smirking with a light sense of accomplishment, I look back down at Evan. My smirk quickly disappears though as I say: “Evan! You’ve gotta breathe!”

Obediently, Evan gasps for oxygen. Sheesh, maybe I didn’t underestimate him after all.  I use his chest as support to keep my upper half hovering over him slightly, and under my hand I can feel his heart working faster than it should be.

“Your heart’s really pumping there,” I comment softly, mildly amused.

“It’s called adrenaline.” Evan tells me, still slightly out of breath.

“Good,” I state as I get myself to my feet, “use that.”

“For another mud-fight?” Evan asks awkwardly as he uncertainly props himself up on his elbows. I don’t bother giving him a weary look; he knows what I mean. He cracks a wry smile; he knows I know that he knows what he means too. (Now try saying that five times fast.)