ALMOST MY FIRST KISS

The sound of my brother’s voice carried up the stairs before I even heard the door slam shut. “Ethan! Dude, you made it!” Jake’s laugh echoed through the house like a victory horn. I froze in the middle of my room, my pen hovering over my journal. Of course. Friday night meant movie marathons, video games, and bottomless pizza, the official best-friend rituals of my brother Jake Carter and Ethan Blake. Which also meant one thing for me: two hours of trying not to look like a lovesick i***t whenever Ethan wandered into the kitchen. I glanced down at my journal. The words I had just written stared back at me: Maybe I’ll get over him this summer. I sighed and snapped the notebook shut. Who was I kidding? Ethan had been around since I was nine, and he was twelve—back then, he was the cool, too-tall boy who brought Nerf guns to our living room battles and always let me tag along. Now I was sixteen, and he was almost eighteen, and every time he smiled at me, my heart did a dumb flip I couldn’t control. Voices and footsteps thundered downstairs. I debated staying hidden, safe, invisible, or walking into the kitchen like I didn’t have a crush the size of Texas on my brother’s best friend. Before I could talk myself out of it, my feet were already moving. The Living Room Encounter I rounded the corner and there he was. Ethan Blake, in all his Friday-night glory. His dark hair was a little messy, like he’d just run a hand through it, and he wore the same hoodie he always did when he came over—the navy one with the frayed cuffs. He sat on the couch, controller in hand, laughing with Jake like nothing in the world could ever bother him. And then his eyes flicked to me. “Hey, Lila,” he said with a grin, his voice casual but warm. I felt my cheeks heat instantly. Why do you do this to me? “Hey,” I mumbled, leaning against the doorway, trying to look nonchalant. My pajama shorts suddenly felt too short, my T-shirt too childish. Why hadn’t I changed into literally anything else? Jake noticed me and rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to hover while we play. It’s Friday night—go do…whatever it is you do.” Ethan chuckled, aiming his controller at the screen. “She can stay. She’s our good luck charm, right?” My heart practically jumped into orbit. I wanted to frame that sentence. Instead, I shrugged, pretending it meant nothing. “I’ll pass. I’ve got better things to do.” “Like what?” Jake shot back. “Not listening to you yell at video games,” I said sweetly, before turning on my heel. As I walked away, I swore I felt Ethan’s gaze linger on me. Probably my imagination. Probably. The Rule Ten minutes later, I was in the kitchen, pretending to look for a snack when Jake wandered in to grab more sodas. Ethan followed, leaning casually against the counter like he owned the place. “Hands off my sister,” Jake said suddenly, tossing a soda can in Ethan’s direction. His voice was half-joking, half-serious. My head snapped up. What? Ethan caught the can with an easy laugh. “Relax, man. She’s like my little sister, too.” The words hit me square in the chest. Little sister. That was all I’d ever be to him. I forced a smile, grabbed a granola bar, and muttered, “Don’t flatter yourself.” Then I escaped before either of them noticed the heat rising in my face. Midnight in the Kitchen Later that night, the house was quiet except for the hum of the fridge. I tiptoed into the kitchen for some chocolate milk—my one guilty pleasure—and nearly dropped the glass when I saw someone already standing there. Ethan. He was bent over, digging through the fridge like he was on a treasure hunt. When he straightened, holding a leftover slice of pizza, he grinned at me. “Busted. Midnight snack raid.” I clutched the milk carton. “Pretty sure that’s Jake’s.” He shrugged, already taking a bite. “He’ll survive.” I rolled my eyes and reached for a glass. Of course, my hands chose that moment to be uncooperative, and I nearly spilled milk everywhere. Ethan chuckled, leaning against the counter. “Still obsessed with chocolate milk, huh?” he teased. “Some things never change.” I narrowed my eyes, suddenly braver than usual. “And some people still eat all the leftovers that don’t belong to them.” He laughed, a real laugh, the kind that made his eyes crinkle. “Touché.” For a moment, silence settled between us. Not awkward, but charged—like the air before a summer storm. His gaze lingered a second too long, and my breath caught. Was this…different? Before I could figure it out, the kitchen door swung open. “Dude, you ate my pizza?” Jake’s voice shattered the moment. He glanced between us, oblivious, then grabbed a soda and walked out. Just like that, the spell was broken. Ethan smiled at me softly, almost apologetically, before following Jake back to the living room. The Journal Back upstairs, I sat cross-legged on my bed, heart racing. That almost-moment in the kitchen—it had been real, hadn’t it? Or was I imagining things again? I flipped open my journal and scribbled furiously: He looked at me differently tonight. Just for a second. If that was almost… maybe this summer could be more. I underlined the word twice more, then shut the notebook. Somewhere downstairs, Ethan’s laugh echoed through the house. And for the first time, I let myself hope that maybe—just maybe—my almost first kiss wasn’t as far away as I thought. ✨ End of Chapter One ✨