I Hated You First

by Rachel John

I’d catch Clay looking at me, really looking—the way a jewel thief might stare at a priceless necklace encased in glass.

“Did you change your shirt?” Melissa asked. “Yes, don’t change the subject.” They both gave me a blank look, and I realized the argument I’d started with them in my head hadn’t escaped my mouth yet. I was totally losing it.

Grandpa was thrifty in other ways. He bought whole milk and watered it down, keeping it in several pitchers in the fridge.

“I was already aware your skin gets red and blotchy when you exercise. Especially your neck. It happens when you get mad at me too, like right now. I don't get under your skin. I get on your skin.”

All I want to do is rearrange all the single people I know like Barbies and Kens, and none of you

“Is this like, some sneaky seduction technique to get under my skin?” I smiled. “On your skin.”

Chemistry was a funny thing. I truly believed you could create chemistry with a person if you both wanted it. You could choose love. You could build it. None of this falling out of love business.

All I knew, was that kissing Lauren was like liquid fire shooting through my veins.

“Clay, I don’t want to backpedal. I don’t want to hate you anymore. And I’m good with friendship as long as we get this, too.” She kissed me,

“Shipping?” “Yeah, like when you want two people to get together because you sense something the two of them don’t see, you ship them. Relationship.”

Clay wasn’t just some guy. He was the guy. Mine. I wanted him for keeps. And that was scary.

“Lauren, you are beautiful and weird, and I really like you. And I hope tomorrow doesn’t end in your dad wanting to punch me. Now go to bed, sweetheart.”

For her, every other guy was gray and fuzzy, and Clay was in vibrant color.