Free Becoming Death by Melissa Brown

have to tell me what else is wrong.”
    I sat up and blinked repeatedly. “I don’t want to talk about it. You won’t understand anyway.”
    “Really? It’s me, Mads. I’ve been your best friend since we were five.” He sat down on the edge of the bed.
    I held my forehead. I couldn’t keep it in anymore. “I saw someone die today,” I said.
    “Again?” He smirked.
    I burst out laughing. “I’m serious,” I said, hitting him with a nearby pillow. “Me and Clarissa were at a gym—”
    “You? At a gym? Why would you go to a gym? You don’t exercise.”
    “Well Clarissa had this coupon so she forced me to go. She said I needed to lose a few pounds.” My sister’s controlling nature made the lie easy.
    “Well, she's crazy,” he corrected me. “You look great, you always do.”
    I blushed. “Anyway, this woman fell while running on one of the treadmills and cracked her skull on the wall behind her. Everyone was screaming and there was so much blood. It reminded me of the people I’ve lost—Linda, my uncle Harry, my dad…”
    He pulled me into a hug and rubbed my back. I laid my head on his shoulder, nuzzling like a kitten against the warmth of his body. For the first time in days, I wasn’t thinking about my role, just this moment.
    “It means a lot to me, that you opened up to me,” he said, running his fingers down my spine. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? To take your mind off of it?”
    I lifted my head and I looked up at him, noticing a hint of yearning in his eyes. His cheeks were flushed red and his smile was hopeful. He drew himself forwards and continued to brush through my hair with his fingers. My breath caught in my throat. My body trembled against him as his breathing mixed with mine. His eyes softened, daring me. He shifted his hand to my cheek and my skin burnt beneath it.
    Was he going to kiss me? I felt dizzy and frighten at the same time. I didn’t know if I wanted this or not, so I stuttered, “I’d like some toast.”
    His eyes filled with disappointment. “Okay,” he said, slowly letting go of me and walking to the door.
    When he had left, I traced my lips with my fingers and wondered if I’d done the right thing.

    I was thankful for Reaping 101 by the end of the week. Living with Aaron after the almost-kiss had turned our apartment into an emotional minefield. Granted it was great inspiration for my fan fiction, but we couldn’t be in the same room together without finding ourselves impossibly close again and the tension between us was pulsing. Something had definitely sparked between us, but I couldn’t help being mindful of any possible change in our relationship. I had never viewed Aaron with heart shaped glasses before… What harm would few kisses do? I didn’t have guys knocking down my door, so maybe it was worth the risk. Another part of me was screaming that this was Aaron . The five-year-old Hispanic boy that had buried my dolls in my sandbox and grown up besides me. We had always been friends; even one kiss would change that forever.
    I banished the thoughts from my mind for another time as I walked into the now familiar classroom. Ms. Winters entered a check mark on her clipboard without lifting her eyes.
    I filled the empty desk next to Becca.
    She lowered her book. “It’s a play this time,” she said, tilting the title at me.
    Becca was wearing short sleeves today and I leaned over to admire the artwork on her bare skin.
    “That’s beautiful,” I said, tracing my eyes over the curved words that trailed down her forearm. They read “Believe in Yourself.”
    “I got it the day I finished high school. You got any tattoos?” she asked, holding her arm out to me.
    “A bird on my hip. If I’m honest, I regretted it as soon as I got it.”
    “Too bad, I love mine. I just got a scythe on my back to commemorate my calling.”
    Her comment reminded me why we were all here. I rubbed my clammy hands together and whispered, “Have