“Stop fucking moving.“ Ethan groans, moving around in his seat.

You and him have to sit next to each other on the charter bus while on your way to the senior trip for school.

He’s your biggest enemy and you’re both leaning on each other, trying to fall asleep. You declared yourself enemies at the ripe age of five when he knocked over your block tower in class

Jesus Christ, stop moving. He thinks to himself. A red flush invading his cheeks as your leg presses against his.