The pill is lodged in my throat. I feel it there, a solid lump at the hollow of my neck. I run my fingers along the bumpy spine of my windpipe, pressing lightly to coax the pill down. But it won't budge. I gulp a glass of water and then swallow again, testing. The stuck feeling is still there.

Like always.

"Get a grip," I tell my reflection, arms braced against the countertop.

I cap the bottle and return it to the medicine cabinet, positioning the plastic container so that it sits flush with the edge of the shelf. Then I close the door and immediately open it again to make sure I've turned the label outward.

From my closet, I choose a pair of skinny jeans and a white pintuck blouse, my eyes darting indecisively between the pale pink cardigan and red v-neck sweater. I settle on the pink cardigan and push my arms through the sleeves, standing before the full-length mirror to smooth out the bumps and bulges. Satisfied, I reach for the shiny black flats to change into once I get to school, rubbing away a smudge with a bit of spit on my thumb.

The doorbell rings as I'm pulling my hair into a tight ponytail.

"Ethan's here!" Mom yells.

A moment later there is a knock at the door.

"Come in!" I holler from the adjoining bathroom.

I hear the bedroom door open, the bottom edge making a soft whish against the carpet.

"Are you decent?" Ethan calls.

"I wouldn't say come in if I wasn't."

Ethan pokes his head into the bathroom. He's grinning. "Need help with anything?"

I hand him the necklace I've been trying to fasten and turn so he can clasp it in place. I try not to notice how his fingers linger against the skin of my neck.

"Thanks," I say.

"Anytime."

I step around him into my bedroom and come to a sudden stop when I see it—a vase of red and white carnations and a plush teddy bear sitting on my desk. I point. "What's that?"

Ethan shrugs. "I guess a little Valentine's Day fairy must've visited you in the middle of the night."

I open my mouth to reproach Ethan, but he holds up a hand. "We do this every year, Ali. Don't make a big deal."

I bite my tongue against what I want to say. "Thank you. They're beautiful. It's really sweet of you."

"You're welcome," Ethan says. He closes his eyes and holds out his hands, palms up. "Now, where's mine?"

I cross the room to my desk and pull his Valentine out of hiding, feeling slightly self-conscious at the discrepancy between the gifts. I cringe as I place it in his hands.

Ethan opens his eyes. If he's disappointed, he doesn't show it. "A homemade card. How very Ali-like."

He clears his throat as though about to read an official decree. "For the best friend a girl could ever have." He opens the paper card. "Aw, shucks. There's even a heart-shaped lollipop taped inside."

I play-punch his arm but don't miss the tell-tale flush of his cheeks. "Have you had breakfast?" I ask.

"No," Ethan says. "You're the one with the mom who can cook, remember?" He sweeps his hand gallantly toward the door. "Lead the way, milady. I smell bacon."

We find my mom in the kitchen flipping pancakes on the griddle while reprimanding my younger brother Daniel for the lake-sized puddle of syrup on his plate.

"Do you know how expensive pure maple syrup is?" Mom says, her voice rising. She's not really mad, though. Daniel's the baby. He gets away with everything.

"No, I do not know how expensive pure maple syrup is," Daniel dead-pans. The corner of his mouth twitches.

"Here," Mom says. She plops three more pancakes on Daniel's plate. "Use these to soak it up."

I eye my brother with mild disgust as he stabs his fork into his breakfast, swirls it around his plate, and then shoves it into his mouth. Amber syrup dribbles down his chin. He doesn't wipe it away.

"I can't believe we're related," I say to him. "When you're at my school next year, do me a favor and pretend we don't know each other."

"Alison Bishop," Mom says, giving me the patented Mom Look. "Be nice to your brother."

Daniel grins and forces mashed pancake between his front teeth like a sieve. "Yeah, be nice," he says, his words garbled by partially chewed food. He swallows and belches loudly.

"Dan," Mom says. "You're thirteen. Act your age."

"I'm pretty sure he is acting his age," I say.

"Dude, that's so gross," Ethan says. But he laughs and bumps knuckles with Daniel in a gesture of male solidarity.

Mom shakes her head as she hands a plate of pancakes and bacon to Ethan, motioning for him to sit in one of the empty chairs. She turns to me. "Did you tell Ethan thank you for the flowers?"

As if I need to be reminded.

Daniel butts in before I can answer. "More importantly, did you remember to show him?"

"Mom!" I exclaim, blood burning under my skin. The days of being able to pummel my brother into submission are over. At 5'9" and still growing, Daniel already has six inches and thirty pounds on me.

Mom grabs Daniel's plate from the table and dumps it into the sink. "You're finished, Mister. Brush your teeth and get outside before you miss the bus. I've got more important things to do today than drive you to school."

Daniel just laughs, no doubt recognizing an empty threat when he hears one. He gets up from the table and prances down the hallway, making kissing noises all the way to the bathroom.

"I can't believe you gave birth to that cretin," I mutter.

"He gets it from your father," Mom says.

She hands me a plate and pours herself a cup of coffee before settling into Daniel's vacated seat. She flips open her laptop and begins singing Foreigner's I Want To Know What Love Is under her breath, seemingly oblivious to Ethan's and my quiet giggling over her obsession with 80s music. Only when we stand to clear our plates does she look up.

"So." She drums her fingers against the tabletop, her eyes darting between us. The smile on her face has me instantly on edge.

"What?" I say. I swear I can still feel the pill in my throat.

Ethan rinses his plate and loads it into the dishwasher before saying, a little too casually, "I'm taking you out to dinner tonight."

Had it been any other day but February the 14th, I would think nothing of it. Ethan and I go out to dinner together all the time. But Valentine's Day is a day strictly for those in love, and seeing as how I'm not in love with Ethan . . .

"I can't," I say. "I have to work."

Mom grins. "Good news. I spoke to your manager. He agreed to switch your days so you could have tonight off." She sits up straighter in her chair and takes a sip of coffee, looking pleased with herself.

I close my mouth and take a deep breath, counting silently to three before responding. "Awesome. Thanks, Mom."

"You know this isn't a date date, right?" Ethan says a few minutes later as he holds open the car door for me.

"Tell that to my mom." I knock the snow off my boots before pulling my legs in.

Ethan shuts the door and then shuffles through the snow around the front of the car to the driver's side. He sits down behind the wheel, turns the ignition, and immediately blasts the heat.

He looks at me. "It's just that, my date canceled at the last minute and I already had the reservation."

"Whoa. Back up," I say. "What date?"

"I was going to take Shauna."

"The freshman from choir?"

The tips of Ethan's ears turn pink at the tone of my voice. "Do you have a problem with that?" He looks away then, shaking his head as though I've offended him, and reverses out of the driveway.

It's not that I have a problem with Ethan dating other girls, but for literally all of our lives, it's been the two of us. And when your respective parents assume you'll end up together, and all of your friends think the same, and you've been at the center of that person's life for all of seventeen years, it kind of comes as a shock to learn there's someone else in the picture.

"I don't have a problem with Shauna," I say.

"Are you sure about that?" Ethan mutters.

"Yes," I say. "I'm just surprised you didn't think to tell me before today that you were interested in her. I honestly had no idea."

Ethan shifts the car into drive and steps on the gas. The tires spin on the slick pavement before gaining traction. "I guess I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"Hurt my feelings?" I laugh. "I'm relieved."

Ethan gives me a look. "Relieved?"

"That didn't come out right," I say, backpedaling. "I just mean that I'm happy to see you interested in someone."

Someone other than me, I think.

I can't deny the twinge of jealousy that I feel deep in my gut, though, despite the fact I have no right to feel that way. I was the one who had told Ethan no, after all. I was the one who had put the brakes on our relationship the summer after eighth grade, after we kissed just to see what it would be like. The kiss had been nice, but I was afraid I'd lose my best friend forever. And that wasn't something I was willing to risk.

Ethan wasn't one to give up so easily, though, and I almost let myself fall for him during our sophomore year. But then he went and spilled fruit punch on the sofa and let me take the blame for it. I had to pay for a new cushion out of my own money, and I wasn't exactly rolling in the dough. I didn't speak to him for three weeks.

"So what happened with Shauna?" I ask. "Why isn't she going with you tonight?"

"Her grandma died. They had to fly to Minnesota for the funeral. She won't be back until tomorrow night."

So that's why Shauna has been absent from choir—not that I've been keeping tabs on her. I only noticed because I am Shauna's understudy in the upcoming spring concert and had to sing the solo during rehearsal.

And did a much better job of it, too.

"That's terrible," I say. "If you'd rather not go out . . . save your money, maybe . . . switch your reservation so you can take Shauna when she gets back?" I give Ethan every opportunity to get out of the date, but he doesn't take the hint.

He looks at me and rolls his eyes. "Don't get all weird on me, Ali. If I can't spend Valentine's Day with Shauna, I want to spend it with you."

"Fine," I say. "But I'm paying for my half."

"Seriously, don't be stupid." He flips on the radio and turns up the volume so loud my bones rattle and my eardrums feel like they might burst.

We drive the rest of the way to school under the influence of music. Then Ethan pulls into a parking space and cuts the engine. Without the heater on, the interior of the car quickly grows cold. My breath comes out in little white puffs, and Ethan tugs his hat lower over his ears. He looks at me, his brows pushed together.

"You're not mad about the whole Shauna thing, are you? You know, that I didn't tell you about her?"

I level my gaze at him. "You don't need my stamp of approval on the people you date, just like I don't have to ask your permission before I go out with anyone."

I press my fingers to his lips, knowing he's about to make some smart-ass comeback about how I don't ever date anyone anyway. He nips the tip of my woolen finger with his teeth before capturing my hand in his.

"You know you'll always be my best girl, Ali."

*****

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