Me: Yeah. It’s kind of creepy here.
Ethan: Indiana is creepy?
Me: Hah, maybe a bit. I mean the house where I am. It’s old but I don’t think my aunt died here.
Well, fuck. I wish I could unsend that text, because I can’t remember if I told Ethan I was here, in my aunt’s house, or if I even mentioned her passing. It’s a bad habit of mine, not able to remember what I actually said versus what I thought about saying. I tend to repeat myself a lot that way. Shaking my head, I get up to change out of my clothes and into my pajamas. I’m holding my phone as I start to tug my jeans down. Another text comes through, and in my haste to see what Ethan said, I lose my grip on the phone and scramble to keep it from clattering against the hardwood floor.
And—of fucking course—accidentally FaceTime Ethan.
“Dammit,” I mutter and go to end the call.
“Anora?” Ethan’s voice comes through the phone. “Are you—”
I hit the red button and drop the phone on the bed, squeezing my eyes shut. My jeans are halfway down my thighs, and I pull them down the rest of the way. I step out of them when Ethan calls me back. Hesitating, I tell myself it’ll be more awkward to explain myself later, and answer.
“Hey, sorry. I was taking my pants off.”
“So you decided to FaceTime me?”
“Oh my god.” I bring my free hand to my face. “No, I, uh, I…fuck.”
“I mean, it’s not expected but I’m not opposed,” he says seriously. “I will happily oblige if you want to take your pants off while FaceTiming.”
“I didn’t mean to,” I finally rush out. “I was taking my pants off and holding my phone at the same time.”
“I’m still intrigued.”
I curl my lips over my teeth and shake my head at myself. Way to fucking go, Anora. “It’s not as kinky as it sounds. I’m changing into pajama pants. They’re fleece and printed with llamas wearing sombreros.”
“What if I was really into that?”
I pull my pajama pants from my suitcase and sit on the bed, tucking my legs under the covers. “Then I’d say that makes two of us.”
Ethan laughs. “You’re okay, though, right?”
“Yeah. It’s a little creepy knowing I’m alone, but the house is all locked up.”
“It was your aunt that died?”
“Great-aunt, technically.” I lie down and pull the blankets up. Now that the sun has gone down, the house is getting chilly. “I’ve never even met her,” I add, not wanting Ethan to think I’m broken up over my aunt’s death, but then realize how weird it might sound that I’m the one supposedly handling her affairs. “I mean I did when I was a kid. I, um, never met her recently. Saw her recently.” I roll my eyes at myself and a few seconds of silence tick by.
“The muffin,” Ethan says in a hushed voice. “They’re eating it.”
I smile. “Darn. I was kind of hoping one was a vampire.”
“I was too. It’s been a slow night.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not always a bad thing,” he goes on.
"I kind of like—” I cut off with a gasp when I hear what sounds like a car pulling into the gravel driveway.
“Anora?”
“I thought I heard something.”
“What kind of something?” Ethan asks, deep voice bringing me comfort for some reason.
Nerves prickling, I inch toward the edge of the bed. The windows face the driveway, and if someone did just pull in, they can see the lights on and will know I’m here. A car slowly drives down the road, and right away I assume they’re plotting my murder.
Though, logically, I’m sure the few cars that do drive down this road are going to a house nearby, and they’re surprised to see someone occupying this house since Aunt Estelle was in assisted living the last few years.
“Nothing,” I say with a sigh. “Just my imagination getting away from me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. A car drove by.” I shake my head at myself. “I’m not quite used to this whole middle of nowhere, country living kinda thing.”
“Did you used to live in Indiana? You said you moved to New York as a kid.” Ethan asks and it sounds like a car door shuts.
“No. I was born in Michigan and lived near where I am now, but moved to New York when I was ten. So most of my life has been in New York. What about you? Did you grow up in Chicago?”
“No. I moved all over.”
“Military family?”
“No, but my dad was traveling a lot for work. As a kid, I went along for the ride.”
I hear a car start through the phone. “Do you need to go?” I ask, biting my lip. I hate talking on the phone, and while I had more than one awkward moment, I like talking to Ethan.