Generally, when a boy said something like that, I chalked it up to them just sweet talking me to get something. Because they thought it would keep me happy and wanting to date them for that much longer, and though I wasn’t particularly proud of it,they were usually right. But this boy didn’t know me and he had no reason to lie.
“I would’ve remembered it too,” I murmured back. It was easy to be honest when I couldn’t see him and knew he couldn’t use my words against me later. I didn’t feel him move, but he kissed me again, only briefly this time. Just as he pulled away, there was another knock on the door. My heart sank in disappointment as I realized our time together was finished.
“Thank you for this,” the boy whispered in my ear. He pulled his hands away. “I think it’s safe to say you were the best kiss of my life.”
“Wait—” But my words were useless because before I could finish the sentence—before I could even decide how I wanted to finish it—the door opened and he slipped out into the dark hallway, leaving me alone like he was never even there.
Just like that, it was over.
I sighed deeply and took a few seconds to run my fingers through my hair and smooth down my clothes. I couldn’t see anything, of course, so I had no idea if I’d made myself any more presentable, but I hoped that I wouldn’t look like I’d just been making out with someone in a dark closet, at least. Once I was sure that it was safe for me to leave, I cracked the door open and slipped out. Nobody batted an eye in my direction as I started down the hallway, intent on going back to the backyard to get something else to drink—something stronger than a Coke, preferably. I didn’t make it far, though, before a hand wrapped around my bicep and yanked me back the way I came.
“Hey!” I yelled as I stumbled back.
“Come on.” Matthew’s voice was tight and angry. Of course. I should have guessed he was the one grabbing me. Who else would it be, really?
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked. “You look like you want to kill someone.”
His only response was to pull me harder down the basement stairs and into the empty laundry room down there. The music and yelling from the party were faint down here, making the place feel strangely isolated. I had a feeling we weren’t supposed to be down here, but I didn’t risk mentioning that to Matthew right now when he looked so mad. He finally let go of me and crossed his arms over his chest. Between his stance and the way he was glaring, I felt like he was towering over me.
“What?” I repeated.
“Tell me you did not kiss him,” he said. I just blinked at him. What the heck was he talking about? Matthew didn’t care if I kissed people, and I definitely wouldn’t care about his feelings about it, even if he did.
“Who?” I asked. There was only one person I had kissed this week, and I couldn’t think of a single reason why Matthew would care about the closet boy.
“You know who.”
“I honestly have no idea what we are talking about right now.”
“We’re talking about the fact that you just kissed my friend,” Matthew said, throwing an arm toward the stairs like I wouldn’t know where it had happened.
“Your friend?” I squeezed my eyes shut for a second and shook my head. What were the chances that of everyone I could have ended up in that closet with, it was one of his friends? Why couldn’t the boy have been somebody from Falcon High or something instead? “How do you know?”
Matthew snorted. “Don’t play stupid, Madison—I saw you both leaving the closet, and he told me you were playing seven minutes in heaven.”
I felt like the world was tipping and turning under me. I thought I would be sick if I stayed there for much longer. One of my brother’s friends told me I was the best kiss of his life. Icouldn’t decide whether this was better or worse than having to live without knowing who it was forever.
“Did he say it was me?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter if he?—”
“Did he or didn’t he, Matthew?”
“No. But I saw you coming out and?—”
“I’m not denying that I kissed him.” I pressed the base of my palms to my eyes and took a deep breath. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly? “We weren’t playing seven minutes in heaven.”
“He—”
I was too tired to have an argument with him about this. “It was an anonymous game, Matthew. I didn’t see who he was, and he didn’t see who I was.”
“That’s a stupid game.”
“Well, it’s not like I made it up,” I said. I dropped my hands again and looked up at him pathetically. “Who was it?”
“What?”
“I never saw his face. I don’t know who we’re talking about right now. So… who was he?”
