Summer [Completed]

Chapter Seven

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About Last Night
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di·lem·ma

noun

1. a situation in which a difficult choice has to be made between two or more alternatives, especially equally undesirable ones.

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Ethan:

Meet me upstairs in 10
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I've been thinking about the text that Ethan sent me for five minutes now, and I have no idea what I'm going to do.

The one person that I would talk to about something like this is the only person that I can't tell, and it's frustrating.

I don't want to hurt her...

But I'm curious.

I slowly start to rise, and I whisper to a half alseep Kelly that I'm going to take a shower.

She nods her head and mumbles something incoherent.

I take my time slowly creeping up the wooden steps. My palms are sweating, and I can feel my heart beating like drums in my ears.

When I get to the top of the stairs, I realize that I don't even know where Ethan wanted to meet me.

Suddenly I feel like a stupid teenager again, crushing on a stupid boy, doing stupid things to please the stupid boy.

What am I doing? I should just turn back.

The moment I turn around, two strong hands grab hold of me and pull me back.

I shriek, before I'm swiftly turned around, face to face with Ethan.

I hit him lightly on the chest and whisper-shout, “Ethan, you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

In the dimly lit hallway I can barely make out his figure. The way he towers over me, combined with not being able to see him clearly somehow makes things feel more intimate.

“Say it again,” he whispers softly, and I peer up at him confused.

“What?”

“My name. I want to hear you say it.”

“Ethan quit playing aroun—”

“I like the way you say my name.” He leans down to my level. His lips brush against my ear as he whispers, “It's sexy.”

My face heats up and I'm thankful for the darkness of the hallway.

“Stop it.” I'm finally coming to my senses.

“What?”

“Stop making me smile.” I look away, even though I know he can't see me. “I'm not supposed to like you.”

“Says who?” I can hear the challenge in his voice.

“Says me.”

There's a short silence before he gently grabs my arm, “Gorgeous—”

“And stop calling me that,” I say angrily, ignoring the excitement that bubbles up inside me.

“Imani,” he amends, purring my name, and somehow it sounds different coming from him...better.