I Hope This Doesn’t Find You

by Ann Liang

Julius touches a finger to his lips like he can’t quite believe it either. Then he straightens. Cocks his head, his eyes black with cool amusement. “You call that a kiss?” he says on a scoff. His voice comes out lower than usual, and I can see the effort in the movement of his throat. “That was barely anything.” The heat inside me flares higher, incinerating all logic and reservation. I want to slap that smug look off his face, but then I think of something even better. “What about this, then?” I challenge, and before he can reply, I grab the collar of his shirt and pull him to me. This time, when our lips meet, I don’t back away. I deepen the kiss, letting my fingers slide up his neck, curl into his hair. For one moment, I can feel his shock, the tension running through his frame like a heated wire, and I think: I’ve won. I’ve proven him wrong. Then he kisses me back, presses me closer, and something inside me slides off-balance. It’s not meant to be like this. The thought is hazy, distant, lost to the sensation of his mouth on mine. Because I was lying to myself before. Julius isn’t just a boy. He’s my enemy. My equal. My point of comparison. He’s the one I’m constantly trying to outrun, to outsmart, to impress. He’s the ever-moving target in my peripheral vision, the person I’ve mapped all my plans around, the start and finish line and everything in between. All my dreams and nightmares are about him and only him. I can’t concentrate. The most terrible part of this is t...