There's a soft sound at my bedroom door, and looking up from the book I'm reading seated on my bed, I see Delia standing there holding up the bag I apparently left sitting on Ethan's motorcycle and completely forgot about.

It pains me to admit that my first reaction to seeing her was one of disappointment.

My second reaction is shock and horror and a steadfast refusal to acknowledge that insane first reaction. Did I really expect to see Ethan standing there? It could just as easily have been Daddy. Why would I expect it to be Ethan? I have lost my mind, and not just because my first thought had been of Ethan...

Actually, that is reason enough.

Why on earth would my mind latch onto him of all people and then... disappointment? Really?! That girl standing there is Delia, my best friend in this whole world, and we haven't spent much time together this weekend. I should be happy to see her... and I am happy to see her, very happy.

"I was wondering why you weren't reading my texts, and then Ethe came into my room and gave me your bag on his way to take a shower."

"Thank you," I say, closing the book and taking the bag when she sits down next to me on my bed. The satchel is showing some evidence of someone wiping off the mud and water splatters decorating it earlier. I slip my phone out of it to confirm that my alarm is set for tomorrow morning. I cannot believe that I've been in such a stupor all evening. I didn't even realise that my phone was missing.

It has gone flat. No surprises there! Its battery has been on life support for quite some time now, and I'll have to charge it up to at least 5% before it will even allow me to turn on the screen again. It takes ages to charge. I really need to buy a new battery. The task is on a long list of urgent things to do that just never get done.

"Did you guys have a fight?" Dell asks while I'm connecting my phone to its charger, and I turn to give her a puzzled look.

"Ethan and I?" She nods in answer to my question, and I shake my head, shrugging. "No... I don't think so... why?"

"Oh, I don't know," Delia says, giving me one of her super-sleuth looks. I don't like that look; it usually means that she is suspicious about something, and if that something is me, I know she is going to use her superpowers to stare right into my soul. Tonight I am not comfortable being a recipient of her piercing looks. "He just seemed a little off when he brought me the bag and told me that you're going to need your phone."

Why on earth would he be feeling off?

"Perhaps he got too much sun, or he has mud in weird places," I offer, and there is that stare, the one I just warned myself about. Why am I always so transparent in front of Delia?

"Did you have a horrible time hanging out with him at the mudflats?"

"No," I smile. "It was actually really nice. He took the most amazing pictures for me, and we had some seriously interesting discussions about birds and their migrating patterns, and he didn't once think I meant that they fly in formation to write the first letter of the name of their destination so that other birds can know where they're going."

Granted, we only believed that when we were in second grade, and their father convinced us that the birds flying overhead were on their way to Virginia because they were forming the letter V. Delia's expression is softening, either because of all the fond memories of us being gullible children, believing Mr Fletcher's funny stories and theories (he was so much nicer back then) or because she can tell that I'm feeling uncomfortable.

"What's going on, Kiki?"

Great, the direct approach. Just what I need right now. I can either lie my head off, tell her to back off, or spill the beans and pour out all the misgivings and confusion I'm bottling up inside me. Is there a "none of the above" option I could use?

"Perhaps this whole dating plan of ours is not such a good idea," I bite my lip, feeling too awkward to say anything more. Clearly, it is changing Dell and my dynamic, which is the last thing that I want. Normally, we bare our souls to each other at the drop of a hat.

"I think it's a great idea!"

"Of course you do! You're having a ball watching Ethan and me starring in a rather terrible comedy of errors," I accuse a little sulkily, suddenly wishing Delia would go home so that I can continue reading the first novel in the rather exciting adventure series I've started today. I bought it when I got my allowance and haven't had a chance to start reading it until tonight. The Pirate Who Knows Stuff, by Declan McKenna, is turning out to be not only extremely captivating but also filled with a ton of laughs. This pirate guy really knows a lot of random garbage, and he is not afraid to use it.

"Well, that's true, but it's also not true," Delia says, intercepting my book when I start to open it, completely willing to read it with her right here, lounging beside me. She knows me too well. "From my angle, things seem to be going really well. To be honest, Kiki, I've never seen the two of you looking this happy before."

I turn my eyes to glare at her, giving her my best what-the-hell-are-you-on-about look before I reposition myself to look at her more squarely. She is my best friend! I'm drowning in confusion and fear, and she is the one person I know who always understands me better than I understand myself. Her mother is a close second.

"Happy? We're not happy! I'm not happy! What I am is wholly conflagulated!"

"There's no such word..."

"There should be," I sniff, brushing a hand over my face and up into my hair. I've been doing that all evening, causing my hair to dry in an uncomfortably dishevelled state after my shower. "Because that is how I feel. Confused and looking for a white flag to wave in surrender."

Delia gently smooths my hair, trying to tame its frustration-induced wayward style; all the mirth has gone from her face now. "What do you mean, Kiki?"

"Ethan is your brother."

"That explains why he is taking up so much space in our house," she says with a grin. I'm being serious, and so is she, but that never stops her from making funny remarks, making me roll my eyes and giggle. In fact, I think she does it on purpose to lighten the mood and help me deal with what I'm feeling.

"Well, he is taking up too much space in mine too, and he is not my brother."

"Nope, which is why he is able to be your boyfriend."

"That's just it, Dell; I don't think he is able to be my... anything."

"Isn't that why you guys are dating? To teach him to be one?" she asks, reasonably perhaps.

I bite my lip again. At this rate, I'm going to end up chewing it off, and I'll look strange without a bottom lip, besides there are so many words a person simply cannot say without two lips. I could make a list of them, and in my mind, I'm starting to run through all the ones containing p's and m's, to begin with, but Delia is narrowing her eyes at me, bringing me back to the topic.

I don't want to discuss this topic; I want to practice saying words using just one lip. It's a much safer, easier and more useful option.

"I prefer him in small doses; you know that. The guy drives me up the walls. We have nothing in common. Spending time together is completely unnatural for us, and I know it is only a matter of time before he gets bored and moves on. Where would that leave me then? Just another notch on his bedpost?" I fall silent when I realise that Delia is looking more and more upset the longer I'm speaking.

"Is that really all you think of him? That he is some kind of heartless player?"

"No..." Actually, it really isn't what I think. I think he is gross and annoying and has the talent of an eight-year-old when it comes to dreaming up stupid things to do. He doesn't always have much in the line of morals, but a player... probably not.

Yeah, he throws his smile and his dimples around, and girls come running, ready to sacrifice their firstborn children to him, but that is probably not his fault. I don't even think he has any use for all those firstborn children. It just happens... and he doesn't say no. At least, I don't think he does.

There have been quite a few girls who got their hearts broken by him, but I'm aware of the fact that he did not go out of his way to break their hearts. Girls just really tend to like him, and he is oblivious about it and clumsy in dealing with them... and he seems to like kissing a lot.

"I can't talk to you about this, Delia," I finally say, hoping to put an end to this increasingly uncomfortable discussion.

"Yes, you can," she is really not cooperating tonight. "We're family..."

"Exactly! We're family! We tolerate each other. Ethan and I only interact when we absolutely have to. He interacts with me when he has an overwhelming need to be annoying, and then I have to interact right back at him to tell him to bugger off. That's how it works."

I sigh, pushing my hand through my hair again, messing up all the reparations Delia made. "This weekend, I've had an overdose of Ethan. I'm suffering from a bad bout of Ethanesis. The cure is some Ethan-free time. Loads of it."

Delia is looking at me in a way that makes me think she is hiding a magnifying glass and is going to whip it out at any second to study my face for micro expressions and other clues to solve whatever mystery she is imagining in that overly-creative mind of hers.

"What you're suffering from is a serious case of memory deficiency when it comes to Ethan."

What is that supposed to mean?!

"Because having memories of him makes my brain deficient?"

She rolls her eyes and sighs. "No, do yourself a favour and really think about your interactions over the last 12 years. Actually, the last month or two will already be more than enough," she adds when I double up with a groan, pulling a pillow over my head to stop her words from entering my brain. "I think you'll find that the two of you have a lot in common and that not all your interactions have to do with annoyance and retaliation."

"Don't wanna," I sulk, and giggling, she pokes her fingers in my sides, making me squirm and sit up with a shriek. "I'm serious! I don't want to think, Dell, not about Ethan. Not at all! He keeps on kissing me! What the hell is he kissing me for?"

Shoot! I didn't mean to blab it like that! She is batting her eyelashes now, clearly surprised by this little titbit of information. There, how do you like chewing on that Delia Fletcher?!

"You guys are... making out now?"

"No! We're trying to say hello and goodbye in a romantic way... it's all very civilized and controlled and... It's utter crap!" I exclaim, dropping the pretence. "Our lips have no business going anywhere near each other. What am I going to do?!"

"Do you like it? Is it good?"

"Seriously?! You want to know if your brother is a good kisser? That's kinda warped."

"That was not what I was asking," she groans. "I want to know whether you like it or whether you're all worked up because you hate it."

I purse my lips, really tempted to chew on one of them again, but I'm showing some phenomenal self-restraint right now. I cannot meet her eyes anymore, so I pull the pillow over my head again; this time, I'm not only blocking my ears, I now have no more eyes either.

"Kiki," she coaxes gently. "Are you falling in love with Ethan?"

I want to scoff at that stupid statement, but the pillow is in the way, and the only sound I manage is one a person makes when they're trying to eat too many marshmallows at once.

"You know it is alright if you are-"

Being beaten up with a pillow finally makes Delia realise that the topic has gone completely off the rails. We stop and call a truce and go downstairs for Milo, saving my room from looking like one of those silly feather showers one sees during pillow fights in girly movies. It would've been hard to pull off since my pillows are all sponge-based.

I cannot believe she asked me something like that. Me in love with Ethan! That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, and I've listened to some actors giving speeches about their political views.

Much later, getting comfortable in my bed, ready to call it a night and go to sleep, I remember to turn on my phone and make sure my alarm was set. My heart leaps, and I give it a sobering smack when I see that there are three messages from Ethan... and they contain actual words.

"I'm sorry, Kicks, I know I broke the rules," reads the first one and then about 20 minutes later, there was another message. "Are you mad at me?" The last message was sent now, just before I turned on my phone. "Good night. 😘"

I stare at the phone's screen for the longest 30 seconds in my entire life, indecision paralysing me. When I finally regain the use of my fingers, I start to type a message, just to delete it again. Type, delete, type, delete, type... I'm trapped in a never-ending loop, and my brain is not cooperating to get me out of it.

How hard can this possibly be?!

I nearly drop my phone in fright when it buzzes, announcing an incoming call from Ethan. "Hi," I say breathlessly when I finally manage to control my fingers enough to answer.

"Are you typing a friggin' novel?" he grunts, almost sounding aggressive, but I find the sound comforting and familiar. "You know I don't read."

"Yeah, which is why I was trying to type a full message using only emojis... it's tricky..." I wasn't..., but now I'm kinda liking that idea.

"Kicks," Ethan says when he's done chuckling. "I'm sorry... I won't do that again, I promise." There's a pause on his end of the line, and then he sighs. "Actually, no, I don't promise that. I can't promise that I won't do it again, but I'll try really, really hard not to. I can promise you that much."

♂♀