where the water meets the moon | e.d.

fifty-nine

addy

july 20, 2:37 am

"i'll feel horrible if you get sick," i mumble into ethan's lips, but he quickly shuts me up by deepening the kiss.

"you've been fever free for two days. relax," he rushes out, and i pull him closer by the collar of his shirt.

"yeah, but i'm still stuffed up," i breathe out as he travels from my mouth to my jaw, peppering kisses along there.

"it's fineee," he groans out. "shut up. i haven't kissed you in three days."

i smile, letting him find my lips again.

just when his cool hands touch the bare skin of my stomach and begin to slide up do i pull away slightly and give him a disapproving look. "no."

"okay."

"wow, you're not persistent at all."

"if i was persistent, then you'd have a problem with that too."

i nod. "got me there."

he laughs, letting his hands fall onto my lap.
"and i guess you're right... that would be kind of an unenjoyable experience."

"not nearly as fun as i could be," i shake my head slowly, my tone joking.

"what a shame," he returns the same dramatic sigh, making me laugh.

"so i know you can't really talk when you're underwater, but kendall and i had a really good time diving," i say. "it makes me feel gross when i realize that she's actually a really nice girl and here i am... totally not being a good friend."

erhan rolls his eyes a little. "addy, stop. i'm dealing with guilt too, but the plan is for the best. we can't say anything now, because havoc will wreck. i can promise you that, if nothing else."

i play with my hands and chew on my bottom lip. "you're right. you're always right. when will i learn that?"

"stop beating yourself up over it when we can't take any of it back now," he sighs.

"are you saying you would?" i question.

"no."

"me neither."

we sit there for a couple moments, our legs crossed into pretzel formations with our knees touching, on the wooden floorboards of the deck. his eyes sparkle under the minimal lighting, and i smile.

i don't say this about a lot of guys, but he's gorgeous. truly he is. i admitted it even in the very beginning when he was a jerk, but somehow he just got more good looking when he became nice.

"hey, where's your camera?" i ask suddenly, craning my neck to see if it's on the bench where it would usually be.

he shrugs. "don't know. haven't seen it since i left it out here."

i feel a sense of panic set in. "do you think—"

"no," he cuts me off firmly. "and even if she did take it, the pictures need to be developed. it would take time, and when would she even send it?"