Ethan (Face-Off 5)

I move her to the floor next to me and sit up, folding one leg over the other. “I’d like to see him stop me. Will might have some say in your life, but he has zero in mine.”

“We both know that’s not true. Will is your best friend. He’s our family.”

“Herein lies my dilemma... I’ve been thinking all day about how I can be with you without hurting my best friend. He’s like my brother. But I can’t ignore the way I feel about you, how I’ve always felt about you.”

“Neither can I,” she confesses. “So, what do we do now? Tell Will and see if he freaks out?”

I shrug. “I have no idea. The other day, Will flat out asked me if I liked you, and I lied right to his face. I hate doing this to him. He deserves to know.”

“I agree.” Mia lets out a small puff of air, blowing a piece of hair in front of her eyes. She pushes it away with her finger and continues, “I don’t want to ruin your friendship with my brother. I love him too much to do that to him. Will would be just as lost without you as you would be without him. He was a mess after you left. We both were. I don’t want to see him like that ever again.”

“How do you think I felt? I never wanted to leave either of you. For the longest time, Mia, you were my something good.”

“You were always mine,” she whispers. “You still are, even though I hate to admit it. I waited years for you to kiss me. I used to sit on the swing next to you and hope that just once you would pull me into your arms and kiss me.”

I grab her by the hips and move her onto my lap. She slides her arm across the back of my neck. When I cup her cheek in my hand, she closes her eyes and moans softly. She wants this as much as I do. We both need this.

So, I kiss her as if it’s the last time I’ll ever touch her. I kiss her as if she’s my last breath. Most of all, I kiss her goodbye. Because after what I did last night, I know I have to stay away from Mia. She’s another drug I need to kick.

Chapter Sixteen

Mia

Ethan is avoiding me. He hasn’t called in days and hasn’t bothered to answer a single text. He’s on the road with his teammates. I understand he needs to concentrate on the playoffs, but he’s home for a few days and has no reason to act like such a jerk.

Will stretches his hand across the kitchen table. “Can you pass me the sugar?”

I push the sugar bowl in front of him and then take a sip from my cup.

“Thanks, baby sis.” He drops three teaspoons into his coffee and stirs it with a knife instead of the spoon in front of him.

Weirdo.

“How come you’re so quiet this morning?” Will lifts the mug to his lips and blows off some steam. “You haven’t even yelled at me for coming home late.”

I shrug against the wooden chair. “You texted and said not to wait up because your bus was having issues. Plus, I’m too tired to give you shit. I haven’t had much sleep this week.”

Because of Ethan.

“Me neither.” Will shrugs. “I can sleep when I’m dead.”

I peel back the Dunkin Donuts wrapper and take a bite of the sausage and egg sandwich Will picked up for me this morning. “Where’s Ethan?”

He takes a few bites of his sandwich and washes it down with a gulp of coffee. “Hotel, I think. He said he needed some space and a decent bed to sleep in. His game was off this week. I don’t know what’s up with him. He started acting weird after our apartment flooded… and now, he’s taking his shitty performance in last night’s game a lot harder than expected.”

I have no right to be angry. But I am. Ethan kissed me on the floor of my living room. I had assumed I would see him again in the morning. That was days ago. I miss him, even though I should hate him for disappearing on me again.

Halfway through breakfast, my cell phone vibrates across the table. My stomach clenches, the eggs in my stomach threatening to make a re-appearance. I sigh when I see Clarke’s name on my screen instead of Ethan’s.

I slide my thumb along the screen and read her text.

Clarke: You were right about Old City Records. Fred is popping major wood over the story. From what I heard in the break room, he scored you an interview for a part-time gig.

Before I can respond, a call from Fred Stephenson, my boss from hell, interrupts our conversation. Sucking in a deep breath, I hit the green button to answer and push my chair out from the table. “Hey, Fred.”

“Mia, cancel whatever you have planned for the morning.”

Hello to you, too.