The Embrace of Evergreen (Unexpected Love #2)

Blue

Blue

The silence that envelops us inside my car is comfortable enough that my thoughts wander. There is nothing other than the light hum of the tires on asphalt resonating up through the floorboards and the wind rushing in through the open windows as Ethan and I drive to Port Williams. We’ve both taken the day off work, and we got an early start this morning. Well, early for me anyway. We stopped at the coffee house before hitting the road, both ordering strawberry croissants and long blacks with two extra shots before catching the ten a.m. ferry over to the peninsula. We ate them in the car with the windows rolled down so the light breeze could swirl around us as we crossed the Puget Sound instead of heading up to the always-packed observation deck with the other two thousand passengers. We’ve both been quiet and calm, and it’s been…nice. Neither of us seems to feel the need to fill the peaceful, slow morning with chitchat just for the sake of exercising our voices. We talk when things come up and enjoy the crisp autumn air that’s filled with the scent of salt and pine and the warmth and beauty of the sunlight pouring through the trees and brightening sp oradic stretches of tarmac without any awkwardness between us.

I don’t really know how to process Ethan. He’s been a near-constant presence in my life for a few months now, and if anything, I’m more confused than I was the first day I saw him in the coffee shop. During our time together, I’ve learned that he doesn’t really have any long-term friends as he travels so much and that he’s an only child whose mom passed when he was a teenager. I don’t know what to make of the fact that he’s spent the last fourteen years traveling around alone, focusing solely on work. Even though my art is so deeply a part of my soul that I can’t imagine myself without it, I don’t think I could make it the focus of my entire life. I need Gabriel and the coffee shop and the semi-mindless hours I spend at work. I need sex and nights at the bar with my friends. I mean, I know everyone is unique, but I just can’t wrap my mind around the idea of being truly happy with only work to keep me company and fill my time, and even though he doesn’t seem miserable or anything, I wonder if Ethan is truly happy.

Even more incomprehensible is the fact his very existence seems to have transformed me into a new person. I’m suddenly someone who goes to the coffee house every day between ten and eleven a.m., even though that is simply an ungodly time to be awake, just so that I can chat with him for a few moments before I head to the hot shop, and he settles in to work. Once in a while, he works from the gallery all day instead of splitting his time between the two, and on those mornings, we walk together with our coffees. It doesn’t mean anything; it’s simply the logical thing to do since the gallery and hot shop are only a block apart.

I’m suddenly a person who simply enjoys laughing and dancing with my friends on Friday nights instead of spending half the evening looking for a random hot body to get off with before heading home to sleep alone. For the past month, more often than not, Ethan has come with Gabriel and me on our Friday night adventures to clubs and bars and drag karaoke, and I find myself so caught up in him, in listening to his laugh and watching him relax and enjoy himself, that at the end of the night, I don’t even realize I missed out on the opportunity to find someone to fuck. These days, in the early Saturday morning hours, I find myself returning home to curl up in bed after showering the sweat of a room packed with strangers off my skin, and all I can think about are verdant eyes and auburn hair and an almost shy, soft smile.

Our little friend group’s get-togethers are so obviously not the type of socializing he’s used to that it surprises me how easily he seems to fit in. The first time we took him to karaoke drag night, I’d kept my hand lightly on his arm until he’d finished his third drink of the night and loosened up enough that he didn’t look like he was going to bolt for the doors and lie down in front of traffic the first time an opportunity arose to escape our raucous chaos .

I find myself touching him like that even when it's not necessary. Nothing creepy, mind you. Small things like letting my shoulder bump against his as we walk side by side on the way to the studio or my fingertips on his elbow as I direct his attention to something of interest. I touch him less than Gabriel does, but that’s different. Gabriel touches everyone constantly; it’s just who he is. I don't touch people. And even though what I'm doing isn't wrong, it's starting to feel that way. Even though I don’t want to admit it to myself, I'm touching him simply because I want to, because I secretly want more. It feels somehow non-consensual, and with my unfortunate dating history, the guilt is eating me up. I know all too well what it feels like to be touched without consent.

Two days after I invited Ethan along for boat festival weekend, he told me over coffee that while he was looking forward to joining me, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it work since he couldn’t find a place to stay. When I’d asked with such short notice, it had simply been because I wanted to spend the weekend with him. I hadn’t even stopped to think that I’d be putting him on the spot because all the rooms in town are sold out months in advance. When I told him he was welcome to share my room, for the briefest of moments, I swear he looked excited by my offer before his expression shifted back to his usual, happy-but-polite, as he accepted.

He’s never once given me any indication that he feels anything more than friendship for me, so surely his response was simply because he was enthused about the idea of enjoying some time with new friends. I think he’s been lonely for a long time. How could he not be after spending his entire adult life moving around year after year? That has to be what it was. Any excitement he’d experienced over my room-sharing suggestion has nothing to do with me on a personal level; he’d have been just as happy to stay with Gabriel or Max or anyone else he’s met here. He definitely doesn’t want anything more from me. Right ? I’m his friend. I mean, he probably thinks of me like a brother or something, and we’re going to have a fun teenage sleepover. Maybe I’m his Gabriel. His hot friend who, for some reason, will never in a million years be a person he thinks of sexually.

I don’t want to be his Gabriel for more than the obvious reasons. Gabriels want the best for their friends, and I don’t want to end up being the one encouraging Ethan into relationships the way Gabriel does with me. I should want that. I should want to be that kind of friend for Ethan, but something about the idea of pushing him toward other men makes my stomach fall into my shoes. Even though I want nothing but the best for him, I don’t want to watch him fall in love with someone else. When we all go out together, I catch my Gabriel watching me sometimes, and I know what he’s thinking. He’s noticed that I’ve changed. He’s thinking that I’m smitten or falling in love. He’s thinking that I’ve written off my well-established philosophy that love is an imaginary construct that only suckers cling to. He’s wrong, of course. There is no way that’s what’s happening. Ethan is simply…interesting. I’ll get over the little crush I have on him in no time, and then I’ll be okay watching him meet someone else one day .

I don’t realize that I’ve been lost in my head for nearly an hour until we hit the edge of town, and Ethan leans forward to stare out the window in awe.

“Oh my god. This place is incredible.”

“I know. It’s one of my favorite places in the world.” I grin over at him as I navigate the insane traffic that’s starting to build up the closer we get to the center of the old town. It’s a relatively small place, with a population of only around eight thousand, most of whom live in the sprawling, spaced-out suburbs that speckle the grey sand coastline. The original settlement was a shipping port, and the old town that sits along the water’s edge is filled with majestically restored old Victorian homes. The main street shops are located in old brick buildings that run alongside a strip of large wooden docks that extend more than fifty feet out into the calm, salty waters. While it was originally established as a bustling trade port in the late 1800s, the town has never really seen a huge population boom, even as coastal life has become more popular. Instead, it’s managed to recreate itself as a quaint tourist village rather than being taken over by condo developments or slowly falling to ruin like so many other small towns in the area have .

The old main street buildings are filled with bakeries, pubs, clothing shops, art galleries, ice cream parlors, cafés, and coffee shops. While the waterside avenue only stretches a few miles, during the summer months, the sidewalks are packed with smiling tourists and welcoming shop owners. Even so, it’s a sleepy little place where everyone is home and in bed by ten even on the busiest of days, aside from the few times a year that small local events like the boat festival turn the entire town into a jam-packed, bustling pile of barely contained pandemonium.

As we navigate through the narrow avenues that lead away from the main street into neighborhoods filled with eighty-year-old oak trees and antique mansions, Ethan doesn’t glance in my direction once. He’s too busy hanging his head out the window like a puppy, lost in the history and wonder of the place.

“I really am sorry again that I forgot the few hotels in town sell out quickly once the dates for this thing are announced every year.” I can’t help but offer yet another apology as I come to a stop in the gravel driveway of a large white-and-blue bed-and-breakfast.

Ethan’s warm laugh surrounds me as we step out of the car and collect our luggage from the trunk. “Honestly, I don’t mind sharing one bit.”

As soon as he shoulders his bag, he pauses to stare at the house for a moment .

“This is really where we’re staying?” His smile is blindingly happy, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him look quite so free, even on our nights out with friends.

I start walking toward the entrance and gesture with my chin for him to keep up. He settles in at my side without hesitation as I talk.

“There are only two hotels in town. One old, refurbished inn down on the main street that was originally a boarding house, and then a travel motel a few miles into the suburbs. Neither of those are ever my first choice. While I’m sure a lot of people with too much money would love to get their hands on these old Victorians to turn them into vacation houses or something these days, thirty years ago, that wasn’t the case, and it was either let them fall into ruin or find a way to keep them alive. A decent handful were turned into B&Bs, and I try to stay at a new one every year.”

Ethan’s expression is soft as his green eyes briefly meet mine when we pause on the porch for a moment. “I love that. I love that you have a place you enjoy so much that you keep coming back. I’ve never had anywhere like that.”

“I always have a good time when I’m in town. It just feels peaceful, ya know? And it’s fun to discover new, interesting things about it when I get the chance. It’s like getting to know a lover or a friend in a way, I guess. I like taking the time to learn every surprising and intriguing detail they have to offer. ”

Once again, I’ve let thoughts fall out of my mouth without taking the time to consider how they might sound to Ethan. He pauses silently for a long moment as something that seems almost like longing dampens his expression before he quickly wipes it away with a smile as he turns to pull open the door. I really need to stop with the spontaneous emotional soliloquies.

Ethan wanders the foyer and large open reception area as I check in. It’s filled with restored original woodwork, handwoven rugs, and vintage furniture. Several other guests are settled in with tea and small cakes while enjoying books and board games and one another’s company, and there isn’t a phone or laptop in sight. It’s amazing how all it takes to remember what life is really about is a short ferry ride and an hour’s drive in the car.

The stairs creak as we make our way up the two flights to our room, as old stairs are inclined to do no matter how well they’ve been restored, and the door sticks the slightest bit on the doorjamb as I push it open. The room is large, with a king bed and a separate sitting area complete with a plush couch, a set of wingback chairs, and a coffee table piled with books, waters, and a bowl filled with apples and small packs of crackers. The wall opposite the entryway contains two sets of glass French doors that open onto a large balcony that wraps around the entirety of the building. While all of the rooms on this floor have access, making it a semi-public space, there is a small café table and matching chairs outside each individual room with strategically placed potted trees that offer the illusion of privacy. I made sure to book a room that faces the water because from this high up, the treetops block out the old city buildings, and the endless blue that extends to the horizon is close enough that we can make out the subtle movement of the waves drifting toward the shore as the tide shifts inward. It’s almost like floating at sea with the benefit of accommodations that don’t leave you seasick.

I settle my suitcase next to the sofa. “I’m happy to take the couch. I certainly didn’t invite you to see boats and sleep on a couch for the weekend.”

Ethan rolls his eyes with a smile. “Don’t be absurd. We’re adults. We can share the bed.”

He says it like it’s no big deal because, of course, to him, it’s not. I’m his friend. He’s clearly not trying to avoid admitting he’s developing feelings for me. Not that I’m doing that either. I don’t develop feelings that I wish were reciprocated because I don’t develop feelings at all. I don’t believe in love and romantic relationships. Right? Right.

“Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

He closes the short distance between us and rests his hand on my bicep. It might be the first time he’s initiated a touch between us, and I desperately try to pretend that I’m not going to read anything into it.

“I’m sure. ”

As the heat from his fingers sinks into my skin and his emerald eyes smile so close to me that I can smell the citrus and spice of his shampoo, I can’t decide if sharing a room with Ethan will be one of the best choices I’ve ever made or one of the worst.