Kismet

Chapter Twenty-Two

I sit on the edge of my bed, biting my lip and tapping my foot rapidly. I've rehearsed the words in my head so many times, I think my head's going to pop because of the single phrase. In many tones, have I said it in my head. Slowly, fast, not looking at him, or staring directly into his eyes and saying it. All of them sounded stupid. The more I said it, too, the more it sounded retarded. I wouldn't blame him if he thought I needed mental help.

   I hear the door open, and my heart flutters in my chest nervously. I stand as quickly as I can, and rush down the hallway from my room to see him at the door. I slowly peek my head around the corner, hope fear rising. 

   Instead, I am met with the sight of my dad taking off his jacket, stomping the rain out of his boots. He slips them off, unaware that I'm staring at him from the top of the stairs.

   He suddenly looks up, and starts. "Kiara. What are you doing?"

   I look behind him. "Where'd Chris go?"

   Chris and Dad had left to go somewhere I didn't ask, and they'd been gone for about an hour. Mom was asleep in her room, right where I wanted her to stay so I could talk to Ethan. But now Dad's back, and I'm not sure I can talk to him without Dad listening in, which I didn't want him to do.

   "Friend's," he answers. I walk down the rest of the stairs, to the little balcony looking over the side down into the hallway. 

   "Friend's?" I repeat, confused.

   "Yeah," Dad smiled. "There's this little kid from our church, and I guess Chris became friends with him. He asked me to drive him over to his house, and I met his parents. A nice family."

   "So. . . " I say, looking to the side. "Who were they?"

   "The Torres'," Dad answers. "You might know their son later in the year- his name is Kaleb."

   "I'll remember," I say absently. "What are you going to do now?"

   "Why so many questions, Kiara?" Dad sighs, looking up at me. He hadn't shaved today, I realize. He's tired, and moody. I guess it's a side effect from the work, the new baby stuff, and me and Chris. I shrug at his question.

   "I'm going to sleep," Dad answers. "After I eat."

   "Mom's also asleep, so don't wake her up or she'll be grouchy," I tell him, walking back up the stairs. I check my phone, at the message I'd sent Ethan a half hour ago.

   "Can you meet me at my house? I need to talk."

   No answer. It hadn't said he read it, either. And I didn't call, in fear of annoying him. 

   Suddenly my door rings, and I start, jumping. I stop and quickly turn around, peering around the corner. Dad walks towards the door, hand reached out to grab the handle.

   "I got it!" I say loudly. He looks at me a bit exasperatedly. I flash him a smile and run downstairs, wincing as I try to keep my chest straight so the bones of my ribs don't bend against each other. I step in front of the door, and repeat quieter, "I got it, Dad."

   He walks away, running a hand through his hair. He walks up the stairs, and I take a deep breath as I turn towards the door. Slowly, I put a hand on the knob. I slowly turn it, butterflies feeling like hammers in my stomach. I swing it open to see Ethan standing there, hands in pockets. Not nervous at all, unlike yesterday.

   I step outside, shutting the door behind me. The smell of the past-rain fills my nose, and the darkness of the storm is still lingering behind him. Ethan has to step down two stairs so that I can stand on the small porch. He's almost exactly my height now, I think happily.

   "So," Ethan says, right as I say, "Ethan. . ."

   "You go first," I say, interrupting his next words. He clears his throat, being the nervous and sarcastic Ethan that I knew for a little more than a month now.

   "Well," he says, not meeting my gaze. "I'm really sorry."

   I cock my head, confused. "About what?"

   "About that kiss yesterday," he says, daring to look at me for a second before jerking them away again. I stare at him with my mouth open. Why was he talking about that?

   "What?" I manage.

   "I'm really sorry about kissing you," he says, clearing his throat again. "I just. . .Augh. I don't know. I'm really stupid for thinking that you- er, that. . . I mean, I don't know that we should do, uh. . ."

   I smile, despite his rambling. "It's okay, Ethan." My phrase I've been practicing in my head suddenly vanished.

   He looks up, eyebrows raised. "It- it is?"

   I nod, stifling a laugh. "Yeah. You know why, skater-boy?"

    Ethan looks at me, eyes wide, like a little kid being told about the vastness of the universe. I rock back and forth on my feet, more scared and determined than was necessary. 

   I lean forward and grab his thick shoulders, pulling him closer. I have to lean on my tip-toes to not fall over on top of him. I gently kiss him on his lips, and he only stands there like a scared cat. I sit there, kissing him for two full seconds (I counted) and then lean back. I am frightened as I see the look on his face. He looks like he just got slapped. Embarrassment makes my cheeks red, and I start to regent horribly what I just did. 

   "Because. . ." Ethan mumbles. "B-because you did that back at me?"

  At first I don't know what he's talking about, but then I realize he answered my question I previously asked. Slowly, a small smile creeps onto my lips. I nod, fully beaming at him. 

   "Thank God," Ethan says, blinking and tipping his head back. Before I can ask anything, he leans forward again and wraps his arms around my mid-back, still cautious of my bruise. He leans forward, locks his lips with mine, and we just sit there for a few moments, kissing. It was blissful, and I couldn't imagine anything better. I put my hands around his neck, sitting there in the muskiness of the after-rain.

   He leans a little away, just enough to look at me. "Sorry to interrupt this budding romance between us, but I'm a bit cold."

   I laugh. "Shall we go inside, then?"

   Ethan steps up, opening the door. He stands to the side and gestures with his hand dramatically inside. "After you."

   I smile, walking inside. I grab his hand as I do so, and he shuts the door behind him. I lead him into the den, and we collapse onto the couch. He sits down, and I do also, leaning my head against him. My chest hurts, but this is all worth it. By far.

   We don't watch TV, we don't talk. We just sit there, enjoying each other's presence.

   Ethan puts an arm around my shoulder, and I murmur, "Cheesy."

   "Well, that's me, isn't it?" he says softly back. I smile and close my eyes.

   Finally. 

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thank you for all the support on his book! Im not sure if I want this to be the end, but if it is, thank you for reading and i hoped u enjoyed this cheesy romance between a book-aholic and an archer. Please comment on what you thought of it!

:)

-Katniss_on_fire13