Lost and Found

Chapter Eleven

Meeting you was fate. Becoming your friend was a choice. But falling in love with you was beyond my control -author Unknown

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The next two weeks were quiet. I told Jess everything and she stopped pushing me to be with Ethan. We went back to school and Jess started to hang out with us again. Walking through the halls she would point out all the bad things about Paul. In return, I'd say that I still loved him. Then her boyfriend, Ian, would come over to get her. And I'd stand there, wishing for everything I couldn't have.

It was on a cold Saturday night when I was leaving work. That I was then faced with the choice that would change my life forever.

I swung my keys back and forth in my hand. The snowy night did nothing to help my freezing body. That was when I saw the boy leaning on my truck.

"Go away," I said once I reached the truck. I tried to grab the driver's side handle but Ethan moved so I couldn't.

"I'm not leaving," he responded, his voice gruff. "Not until you hear me out."

"No thanks," I said with a mocking smile. I attempted to move to the next door, thinking I could just climb over the seats once I got in, but Ethan moved again. This time grabbing my keys in the process.

"It's not happening!" My voice was curt. I was fed up with that boy,

"Jul, please. You don't have to say anything, just listen." I gave him a cold stare. "If you don't like what I'm about to say then...then...I won't bug you anymore."

I thought for a second. "Fine. " I clenched my jaw before folding my hands across my chest. "Start talking."

Ethan brought his hand to his hair, tugging it back only to have it fall back in place. With him distracted I was able to grab my keys. I started to walk to another door when Ethan said, "Don't even think about it." Ethan came up from behind me and scooped me up in his arms.

"Really?" I said.

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Oh stop pouting,"

He set me down on a bench by the restaurant. "I'm bad at this. You know that." He looked me in the eyes and I felt butterflies take flight. "I want to be more than friends."

"What?" I asked, my voice high and squeaky.

"I'm not gonna be able to keep being a friend. I need more."

"I-I-I'm with Paul." I honestly felt like I couldn't speak.

"I know. You don't have to make a choice now. I just want you to know that I'm ready for something more."

"Two weeks ago you told me I was just a game."

"Actually you said you were just a game."

"I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything."

"Can-can I go now?" Ethan nodded.

Thirty minutes later I arrived at Layla's. Soon I found myself telling her everything.

"So then he told me that he likes me!" I exclaimed as I paced around Layla's bedroom.

"Oh! My! Gosh! This is the best news ever!" Layla exclaimed.

"No! No, it's not! I'm with Paul!"

"Correction. You were with Paul. You're going to break up with him, right?"

I shook my head. "No, of course not. Paul loves me and Ethan can't promise that?"

"Did you even ask him?"

"He left. Paul isn't gonna."

Layla grabbed my arm and pulled me down onto her bed. "Sometimes the scariest choice is the right one."

"And all the other times it's the wrong one. And anyway, I'm done with this conversation." I stomped out the door but walked back in. "I forgot that I live here!"

Later that night, when Layla was fast asleep, my thoughts drifted back to Ethan.

"Come on," I begged. "I want to know everything about Ivy."

It had been a year since I realized I liked Ethan. Pretending not to like him was...interesting.

"I've told you everything. She has brown hair, blue eyes, a tiny bit taller than me," he responded.

I laughed as I tried to push out the feeling of dread pouring through my veins. "That stuff doesn't matter."

"Okay, you know that I'm bad at this romance stuff." I couldn't blame him for that, all he ever saw was marriages falling apart. "You should tell me about this Johnny dude."

I let out a nervous laugh. "Why? He's just a friend."

"See it's not easy for you either."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, I'll tell you." I got up and started to pace the length of the table. "He has blue eyes, brown hair, shorter than me, and his middle name is Travis."

"My middle name is Travis."

"No dip Sherlock."

"I-is Johnny me?"

"No," I lied. "He's a great friend who I don't want to lose because of a stupid crush."

I've always wondered what would have happened if I had told him that I liked him. If I told him that Johnny was a nickname Layla and I made up for him. What if I told him the truth?

"Layla," I whispered, finally giving up on trying to sleep. She moved a little but didn't wake up. "Layla!"

"Go away," she mumbled in her sleep. I threw a stuffed animal at her. Still nothing. Then an idea came to me.

I walked over to her, bucket in hand. "Layla?" I asked. Nothing. So I lifted the bucket over her head, pouring the ice cold water onto her. She shot up,

"Juliette!" she yelled, "What the hell!"