They Hate Each Other

by Amanda Woody

“Thank you,” I whisper. His gaze falls to my lips. “It was nothing,” he says quietly. I smile. “It was something.” We move forward in sync. I frame his face in my hands and pull. He wraps his arms around my neck, squeezing. I kiss Jonah Collins harder than I’ve ever kissed anyone.

Oh. Oh, no. Except now my heart is pounding, and I’m flooded with thoughts of Jonah smiling and laughing and whispering and kissing and sleeping and oh shit. I slap my hands over my face. Fuck.