When he hears me approach, he looks up from his phone. “I ordered us some dinner. It should be here in thirty minutes.”
Keeping my eyes on him, I see his gaze intensely focused on my body. There’s no embarrassment, no awkwardness. Ethan is completely calm and confident as his eyes rake over my body.
“How are you feeling?”
“Much better, thank you.” I stride over to the refrigerator and grab a bottle of water out of the drawer before I sit on a stool next to him. He reaches over and hands me my purse.
“I checked your phone when I grabbed it. Quite a few people are looking for you. Remember what we talked about. You’re taking a vacation. I already texted it to Blaire because she was freaking out.”
I nod in understanding. After finding my cell phone and seeing that it’s dead, I grab my charger and plug it into the wall. Once it comes to life, I call Blaire.
“Nevaeh! Oh my fucking God. Are you okay? You can’t send me a text saying you left on a last-minute vacation and then leave me hanging. Where are you?”
I take a deep breath, preparing to lie to my best friend. I’ve never lied to her. Ever. But it’s for her own good. Her knowing what has really happened could put her in danger and I would never be able to forgive myself if anything happened to Blaire because of me.
“I am on vacation. I’m sorry. I… needed to get away for a little bit.”
“Where are you?” she repeats. “You never take off.”
“I’m staying at a beach house a friend of Stephen’s lent me. I’ve been struggling lately and I need some time to find myself.” The half-lie comes out of my mouth like silk—smooth and easy. I look over at Ethan, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
“Okay…well, how long are you going to be gone for?”
“I’m not sure yet. But I’ll call you once I know.”
“What about your job?”
“I’m taking some time off.”
After a moment of silence, she says, “I’m worried.”
“I’m okay,” I assure her. “But can you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“I don’t like the thought of you being alone in our condo. I was thinking you could stay with Victor so you aren’t alone.” Not a complete lie.
“Nevaeh, if something was wrong, you would tell me, right?” she pushes.
“Blaire, please,” is all I can say.
She sighs. “Okay, I’ll be at Victor’s, but please know I’m here for you. Any time. I’m only a phone call away.”
“I know, Blaire. Thank you.”
“On another note. Gerald called me looking for you. Said you sent him a text telling him to go fuck himself, and in return, I also told him he could go fuck himself.” She laughs. “Look at you getting all badass.”
“Yeah.” I side-eye my new roomie, knowing it was actually him who sent the text.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Blaire presses once more.
“I am. I’ll call you soon. Love you.”
“Love you more.”
Once we hang up, I pull up my email and type out a long and apologetic letter of resignation to my principal, explaining I had wanted to give notice, but it’s not possible.
Next, I send a group text to my parents to let them know I’m okay and will be out of town for a little while. Before either of them can reply, I turn off my phone and place it on the bar.
“Everything handled?” Ethan asks, setting the glass tumbler down.
“Yeah. Blaire said something about someone sending a text to Gerald…telling him to go eff himself. She thinks it was me…” I raise my eyebrows at him, watching him smile sheepishly, like his hand was caught in the cookie jar. I’m not mad about it. I just want to know why he’d do it.
“Sounds like someone was trying to defend you.” His brown eyes lock with mine and we hold our stare for several long beats, until the doorbell rings, halting whatever’s happening between us for the moment.
Ethan leaves the kitchen and seconds later comes back with two brown bags and a cold can of root beer. As soon as he opens the bags, the smell permeates my nostrils. Yum! He ordered Chinese. I open my container: sesame chicken and pork fried rice—minus the carrots.
“How did you get them to do this? Every time I ask, I always get told it can’t be done.”
“Money can get you whatever you want, Nevaeh,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone.
Once we’re done eating, Ethan suggests we watch a movie. After calling out several titles, I decide on Top Gun. I’ve always had a secret crush on Tom Cruise and him in Top Gun…yes, please.
We settle on the couch next to each other. Close enough I can smell his sweet and masculine scent, but far enough away, I would have to reach over to touch him. Which is probably for the best since my every other thought since kissing him in the club has been about wanting to touch him…