“No,” I frown at him. Damn it, I hate when he does this. He somehow turns things around until I feel like an ass. “It’s just school. School is tiring and hard.”
Ethan’s face softens. “Maybe you should take some time off of school.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? I don’t even know why you bother with school. You’re wasting your time and money.”
“I’m wasting my time and money?” I repeat in disbelief.
Ethan nods. “Yeah. You’re wasting your time and money. You don’t need to go to school, you don’t need a degree. You know I’ll always take care of you.”
Oh, hell no, I can’t even do this right now. I reach up and grab Ethan’s hand, pulling it off me.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I grit my teeth together and hiss, “I need to go.”
Ethan’s eyes narrow and instead of letting me up he brings his left hand down on my right shoulder. “Why? Why are you so angry? Fuck. What have I done now?”
I try to stand up but Ethan pushes me down. “Get your hands off me,” I demand.
Ethan bends down, his pissed off face coming close. “Stop trying to make a scene.”
I snort, not caring who is watching. He’s not pinning this on me. “You’re the one making a scene. Let me go.”
Ethan growls and his hands squeeze my shoulders. “Fuck, Ave, what do I have to do? What will it take to get through to you?”
Something about his wor
ds and the way he looks at me chills my blood. Is he going to admit he loves me or something? Or is it something even worse?
I’m saved by the phone. The phone in my pocket starts ringing loudly and vibrating. Ethan scowls but then his lips curl up into an amused smile.
He gives my shoulders one more squeeze then orders me to, “Answer the phone.”
I glare at Ethan. “Let me up.”
His hands pop into the air and he takes a step back, still smirking. I stand up and dig the phone out of the tight front pocket of my jeans.
“Hello?” I ask as I press the phone to my ear. I should have been petty and let it go to voicemail, but answering it gives me an out of the situation Ethan was pushing me in. It’s a situation I just don’t want to deal with right now.
“Hey, tell Ethan it’s on. Four on one at six. I’ll call back when it’s done,” a deep male voice on the other end says.
What kind of message was that?
“Who is this?” I ask. “Who should I say is calling?”
The line goes dead with a click.
I look to Ethan, what the hell?
He only continues to smile. “Well?”
“They said to tell you it’s on, four on one at six,” I say, closely watching his reaction.
He seems to perk up. “Excellent. That’s excellent.”
“What’s excellent?”