“Zane Lindon!” was called sporadically – and in varying degrees of authoritative and desperate – in the hall, getting closer then moving away again as whichever teacher was after Zane wandered the halls looking for him.
And Zane never moved. He just kept his hand over my mouth as he started shaking with silent laughter, blissfully unaware that I felt like I was about to have a heart attack. It wasn’t until the coast was apparently clear that he finally took his eye off the door and looked at me. Only his face was still super close to mine and this just had the added benefit of meaning we looked right into each other’s eyes.
My eyes had adjusted to the light and I could see him a little better. I could see the laughter still shining in his eyes.
And for the briefest of seconds, I felt a thing.
A thing I didn’t feel with Zane.
A thing that made something in me hitch and, while my body relaxed, my brain panicked.
It was the quickest of quick moments but, once I felt it, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t stop analysing. Did it happen? Was it just me?
There was something in the humour of Zane’s eyes, in the soft tip to his half-smile, that mirrored whatever crazy momentary feeling I’d had. But that was stupid. Wasn’t it?
I took tiny, shallow breaths in an attempt to draw less attention it, or maybe just to stop my boob getting even more squashed against his chest, which was feeling mighty toned just then. Because something about this situation felt wrong in how not wrong it felt.
I cleared my throat, afraid to move and brush more body parts together, and angled my eyes to his hand. His huffed breath brushed my face and I could tell he’d had Solo at lunch – there was that familiar lemon-y scent to his breath. He slowly took his hand off my face and I wondered if he was trying to move as little as I was.
My imagination was at the precipice of going to town on this whole situation. Had I been squashed in a cupboard with anyone but Zane, it would have dived right in. And I would have let it wallow in whatever sordid muck it found down there.
Probably.
I’d never been in the situation.
Knowing my luck with boys, it was something that was never to be repeated and the tantalising hints of imagery that played at the edges of my mind were many wasted opportunities. But I wasn’t going to let that be my reason for giving into them.
This was Zane for cripe’s sake.
Zane who was, for the first time in three and a half years, still single over a week after his most recent break up.
I was just having a what-if moment. We all had them. Surely it was virtually impossible to be friends with anyone from your preferred sex without it happening at least once. I’d had the moment unashamedly with Jett. True, it took all of less than a millisecond for me to decide that was a nope, but it still happened.
I’d never even begun to think about that moment with Zane until now.
And now that it had started, I refused to let my brain finish it. I did not want to know if there was a possibility of a Zane and me. I didn’t care if I had even the smallest capability of liking him more than friends. Because if I did – quite aside from the complete ruination of our current perfectly dysfunctional relationship – Zane was incapable of being interested in anyone that was not a clone of every ‘hot girl’ from every movie ever.
It was settled.
No one liked anyone.
So, why weren’t either of us moving?
Why were we both still just standing there, him pressed against me, as we looked into each other’s eyes in a way we never had before?
Someone had to break whatever spell we’d fallen under, because this was getting beyond ridiculous. I just couldn’t think of anything to say. Every time I thought about opening my mouth, it was like the ability to speak just deserted me. The scary thing was that I didn’t know if it was because I didn’t really want to break the spell, or if I was afraid breaking it would prove it was real.
There was a voice outside the door and both Zane and I jumped. Our bodies brushed together with a zing of electricity before he took a step back.
And, just like that, everything was back to normal again. At least, that’s what I was going to tell myself.
“Uh…” Zane started, then cleared his throat. He shifted his feet as he looked down at them. “Sorry about that.”
“No. Totally fine. Happens.” Where the hell was my wit? Where were my comebacks? My banter? I felt totally naked.
Zane’s seemed to be fully functioning. “You often get dragged into cupboards?”
I smoothed my shirt completely unnecessarily and noticed his eyes follow the action. Wasn’t doing that again in a hurry. “Sure. Crazy life I lead.” Oh, my God. It was like I was tapped out or something.
“Definitely. We could all do with some more cupboard...time.”
I took back everything I said about Zane appearing fully functional.
“Uh. So, I should be in class. If you don’t need any more aiding and abetting, I should get back,” I said, pointing at the door.
He nodded quickly. “No. Sure. Why not.”
I looked him over and there was more than just this incident that felt…off.
“Are you…okay?” I asked him.
“Always,” he spluttered, full of bravado. “Why?”
“You’re not…upset about Thea or anything?”
He’d seemed a bit more…wayward the last week, even for him. Add that to the fact he hadn’t bounced onto the next girl yet… I was starting to wonder if he’d liked her more than he’d let on.
But his scoff was totally him and totally real. “No.” He kicked his head sideways. “Nah. All right. I’m a bit pissy about being dumped, but I didn’t like her that much.”
My hand went to my heart as I gasped sarcastically. “Was that… Is Mr Pop capable of…” I leant towards him and whispered, “feelings?”
He laughed. “Yeah. Laugh it up.”
“That is not a denial,” I pointed out.
“I’ll deny it to anyone who asks.”
I smirked involuntarily at him throwing my own words back at him. I quickly sniffed the smile away. “Right. I’m going back to class. I’ll see you later.”
“You don’t want to know what I did?” he cajoled.
I shook my head. “No. Thanks.”
“If it was a doozy?”
“You can keep your doozies to yourself.” I put my hand on the door handle, but paused when he spoke again.
“You want a ride home?”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
“Cool. Meet you at the car?”
“Sure.”
I sidled my way carefully out of the cupboard and found a blessedly empty hallway, and made my way back to class. I threw a look over my shoulder once and saw Zane standing in the hallway, watching me go with his hands in his pants pockets and a cocky smile on his face.
My heart thudded once, then I dutifully ignored it.
I could love a guy without it being more. Zane and I worked as friends. Or more like siblings really with the whole love-hate thing we had going on more often than not. Which just put a whole disgusting tinge on the notion of a moment between the two of us.