11 Sloane
February 2017
Ethan pressed his foot to the gas, and my Honda Civic accelerated down College Road. I watched as he sang along to the radio while his hand rested on my thigh. A little over six months ago was the first time I’d ever laid eyes on him. Before him, I was afraid I’d never meet the right person. I wanted so badly to believe what people said about soulmates—that one day I’d meet someone who everything fell into place with, and I’d realize why it never worked out with anyone else. I’d like to think that someone for me was Ethan.
He wiggled his hand into one of the holes of my jeans and looked over at me from the driver’s seat like he wanted to have me right then and there.
“Stop it!” I laughed.
“Come on, not even a quickie? I can find somewhere to pull over,” he pleaded.
“I thought this was supposed to be my birthday dinner,” I argued.
“You know I’m always hungrier after sex.” He winked.
“Key word: my birthday dinner.”
He turned his attention back to the road. My least favorite love language was physical touch, and that was Ethan’s preferred method of communication. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy it, but the way he’d touch me sometimes felt like he only wanted me for one thing—sex. Even though I knew our relationship was deeper than physical intimacy, it was still a thought that lingered in the back of my mind often.
The car pulled into an Outback parking lot, which wasn’t a terrible restaurant choice for a college student on a budget. The past few months that we’ve been hanging out, Graham has been getting us to try wine other than moscato. While he and Lauren preferred white, Ethan and I leaned toward red.
He ordered a bottle of pinot noir, and even though I preferred cab, I didn’t say anything. I was just glad he was taking me out, considering most of our “dates” were just drive-throughs, frat parties, or sleepovers.
“So, why don’t I know when your birthday is?” I asked as the waiter brought over our bottle and two glasses.
“It’s in July,” he started. “I don’t like to celebrate it though.”
I didn’t even try to pry. I wanted to keep the conversation light, because I knew he hated talking about his past. The last thing I needed was for something to change his mood or for him to push me away. I didn’t want a repeat of our weekend in the mountains. I actually wanted to enjoy the night.
When we got back to the apartment, it was dark and quiet. As I approached the end of the hall that connected our entryway to the kitchen, I turned on the lights and was shocked at the scene in front of me.
“Surprise!” A sea of my closest friends stood in front of me. “Happy birthday, Sloane!”
I turned around and glared at Ethan, who was still only halfway down the hall as if he were avoiding being a part of the grand entrance. I wasn’t turning twenty-two until the following week, but Lauren always made a huge deal out of birthdays, so knowing her we’d celebrate every day until the real thing.
“I put an outfit on your bed. The bodysuit and skirt you were eyeing at Vestique a few weeks ago!” Lauren whispered. Sometimes I wondered if she could read my mind, or if we were just that in tune. I squeezed her and excused myself so that I could change.
We went downtown to Front Street instead of the usual beach bars. It was unusually warm for a February night, so we took full advantage of the weather and spent the next few hours on the back patio of a dive bar buying rounds of green tea shots and requesting throwbacks from the DJ.
“On to the next!” Graham motioned for us to all chug so we could make our way to the next bar.
I wanted to feel remotely excited about going to Reel for late-night karaoke, but I didn’t. Ethan had barely said two words to me since we got out of the Uber, which only made me more anxious and less fun, two things I shouldn’t have felt on my birthday. I drank my vodka soda too quickly as I listened to Lauren blabber on and on about how Graham invited her on his family trip to Key West this summer. They hadn’t even been dating six months and were already planning vacations together; meanwhile most days I wondered if Ethan felt the same way about me as I did about him.
I watched from behind him in line as he talked and laughed with his friends, wishing he would motion for me to come to stand with him and put his arm around me. I would do anything for him to give me just the slightest bit of attention. The bouncer scanned my ID and fastened a blue band tightly around my wrist before telling me to have a good night. When I found our group, Ethan was waiting with a shot and a drink for me.
“What is it?” I asked, referring to the shot.
“Cheers.” He winked and lifted his glass up to mine, ignoring the question.
We took our shots simultaneously, and immediately I could feel the cheap vodka coming back up. I quickly ran to the bathroom, and for the next half hour, I didn’t leave the handicap stall, which I’m sure the groups of girls in line were thrilled about.
“Sloane, it’s me.” Lauren banged on the stall door. I wiped my mouth before flushing the toilet and collecting myself.
“Let’s go home,” I said as I opened the stall.
“Graham is in a car out front.” She led me through the crowd and out of the bar.
“Where’s Ethan?” I asked when she opened the car door, and the only people inside were the driver and Graham.
“He didn’t want to leave,” she replied. I could sense the disappointment in her tone of voice. She didn’t want to upset me, but she wasn’t surprised by his actions.
When we got back to the apartment, I thanked them for taking me home and went straight to my room. I managed to wash my face and put on an oversized T-shirt before getting into bed. The room felt like it was rotating, and the remnants of vodka stung the back of my throat. I rolled out of bed and miraculously made it to the toilet where I let it all out. Again.
***
The next morning my mouth tasted like a mixture of sour liquor and stale cardboard. As much as I was glad that I woke up to an empty bed considering my current state, I was pissed at Ethan. How could he treat me that way? And on my birthday? Sometimes I felt like I didn’t know him at all, and maybe I didn’t. How he could go from one extreme, like planning a dinner date, to completely ignoring my existence a few hours later was beyond me. Moments like these made me realize that I was the one in the relationship who had more feelings, and that was never a good thing.
My hand smacked the nightstand a few times before finally locating my phone. I held it close to my face as I pressed the home button and scrolled through dozens of notifications. I kept searching for the only one I cared about: a text or call from Ethan. There it was.
2:22 a.m.
Ethan Brady:1 Missed Call
Before I could decide whether or not I wanted to call him back, there was a knock on my bedroom door.
“I literally just opened my eyes, Laur. Can you give me at least an hour before the lecture?” I croaked.
“It’s not Lauren.” I was surprised to hear a guy’s voice. “Are you decent?”
“Depends on if you consider dried vomit in my hair as decent or not,” I replied.
The door opened, and Graham smiled. He was holding a brown paper bag, which I could only assume had a bagel inside, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a blue Gatorade.
“The hangover breakfast of champions.” He set everything next to my bed, and just as I thought he was leaving, in one swift motion, he effortlessly flipped my desk chair around and straddled it backward. “How’re you feeling?”
“Not great, but this should help.” I held up two small capsules before I popped them into my mouth, followed by a long sip of electrolytes.
“You know that’s not what I meant. Have you talked to Ethan?” Graham asked.
“No,” I sighed. “He called me last night, I’m assuming on his way home. I just hate that he thinks he can do whatever he wants and then come and crawl into my bed at two a.m. like nothing ever happened. Who does he think he is?”
“That’s Brady for ya. Not that I’m sticking up for him by any means, but he’s an only child, pretty much grew up on his own, so he’s a selfish guy. I don’t think he sees anything wrong in it,” he said.
“Neither of us know what we’re doing when it comes to a relationship, but treating someone the way they treat you isn’t hard. I would’ve never done that to him. I’d spend every day with him if he’d let me.” I threw myself back onto the pillow, knowing exactly how desperate that sounded.
“For what it’s worth, I’m rooting for you guys. You just have to keep in mind that this is who he is to his core. I don’t know; maybe he’ll change. Just be careful. I didn’t like seeing you hurt last night.” And with that, Graham left my room.
As I sat there, my thoughts wandered to Lauren and Graham. They seemed almost like carbon copies of each other. I mean, I’ve truly never met a guy like Graham. People always say opposites attract, but I think there’s something wrong with that theory. Ethan and I, we’re like night and day. Maybe that’s our problem.
I stared at my phone’s call log, Ethan’s name glaring back at me. With a bit of hesitation, I decided to call him back.
“Hey,” he answered after the third ring.
“You called?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, irritation lacing every word.
“I’m sorry I didn’t leave with you last night. I just…wasn’t ready to leave yet.” Ethan’s apology sounded genuine, but it didn’t fully soothe the sting.
“Yeah, Graham told me. It was really shitty of you, Ethan.” I couldn’t help but let my disappointment and hurt show.
“I know, and I’m really sorry,” he replied.
We fell into an awkward silence, the air thick with things left unsaid.
I found myself asking the question that was always haunting me. “What are we doing, Ethan?”
I didn’t have to elaborate; he knew exactly what I meant.
“I don’t know, Sloane,” he admitted, his voice heavy with uncertainty.
Another silence enveloped us, deeper than before.
“Obviously, I like you.” Ethan finally broke the quiet. “I just…need some time to think. Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” I sighed, feeling a mix of sadness and exhaustion. “I’m going to try to get some more sleep. My head is killing me.”
“I’ll text you later. Hope you feel better,” he said gently before ending the call.
When I finally decided I was ready to wake up for the day, it was nearly time to eat dinner. I checked my phone, expecting to find messages from Ethan, but frowned when I had no new notifications. I dragged myself into the bathroom and blasted Taylor Swift on shuffle to put myself in a better mood. There was nothing that a hot shower and “All Too Well” couldn’t fix. By the time I got out of the shower, I heard Jordan and Lauren in the kitchen, so I threw on some clothes and joined them.
Jordan’s laughter greeted me first. “Wow, we thought you were dead,” she joked, not knowing how close to the truth she was.
“Very funny.” I offered a tight-lipped smile while I fetched the Brita from the fridge.
“So the elephant in the room…” Lauren broke the ice. “Have you heard from Ethan?”
She was always the one to confront uncomfortable truths and, even knowing I had a slight hangover, didn’t miss a beat.
“We talked on the phone earlier. It didn’t help though; I think it might’ve made me more confused. This whole situation is just—ugh. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.”
“Like it or not, it’s happening, babe. You and Ethan? You need to DTR.”
“DTR?” Jordan asked.
I shut the refrigerator door with a bit of force, not wanting to admit that Lauren was right. I sighed, “Define the relationship,” and the weight of those words felt as heavy as the pitcher I was holding. “Yeah, I know, I know.”
The sad thing was, I did know. I just didn’t care. I was afraid to have that conversation with him because there was a chance it would mean losing him for good. And while I didn’t love what was going on between us now, I wasn’t ready for it to end.
***
I hadn’t heard from Ethan, and I was spiraling. After we got off the phone, I waited around for a text from him—it never came, and as much as I wanted to talk to him, I knew what him not reaching out meant. So I was avoiding him in the same way he was avoiding me.
For the weekend, my bed had become a sanctuary. Jordan managed to coax me out, promising a Sigma Chi party would make me feel better. It didn’t. I wasn’t in the mood to sip on cheap beer or interested in frat house banter. I missed Ethan—missed the simplicity of us just being together. So after enduring an hour of hollow conversations and forced smiles, I made my escape back to the quiet of my room.
I wanted to show up at his apartment and let myself inside, but I knew I shouldn’t. I wanted to call him and tell him that I took everything back, but I knew it was too late. Maybe if I’d just continued to play it cool and not force him into a relationship yet, he’d be here right now, lying beside me in bed. Instead, I had no idea where he was, who he was with, or what he was thinking. I’d have given anything to get into his head sometimes.
Sunday morning rolled around, and I managed to stay in my room undisturbed until close to noon, when my phone vibrated somewhere in between the sheets.
11:47 a.m.
Ethan Brady:Sorry I’ve been MIA. Just needed space to think about things. Can we talk in my car?
He was ending it before it even had a chance to begin. My hands started to shake as I replied with one word.
11:50 a.m.
Me:Sure.
I walked out of my apartment a few minutes later and found that it had started to rain. Ethan’s tone via text, my anxiety, and the weather presented the perfect formula for a breakup. Could I even call it a breakup if we were never dating?
All I knew was that conversations in cars were never a good thing. Everything big that had ever happened to me in love happened in a car. My first kiss with Carter, the time he told me he was seeing someone else, and—as much as I hated to admit it—most of our intimate moments happened in the back seat of his Toyota.
Ethan’s familiar headlights appeared in the parking lot and pierced through the curtain of rain. He pulled up to the curb and glided to a stop in front of me. Before reaching for the handle, I took a deep breath to try and calm my nerves.
I slid into the passenger seat, my clothes already damp and goose bumps covering my entire body. Ethan reached to turn up the heater as if he knew what I was thinking and then pulled around the back of the building into an empty parking spot. I noticed that he was wearing the same Yankees T-shirt that I met him in. Nostalgia seeped through my veins as I prepared myself for the end of something that never got a chance to begin.
“Hey,” Ethan greeted me. His gaze remained fixed on the steering wheel, his knuckles white against it.
“Hi,” I replied. I stole a glance at his profile, his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed. I was so fearful of what was about to come. I wish I could’ve done something, anything, to stop it.
The rain continued to pour outside, obscuring everything beyond the windshield. The drumming of the raindrops seemed to echo the pounding of my heart. I watched as he wiped his palms on his thighs nervously.
I couldn’t take the silence any longer. “Is everything okay?”
Finally, he turned to look at me, his eyes filled with sadness and regret. “I don’t know how to say this,” he said, his voice trembling just slightly.
“What’s going on?” I swallowed hard, my throat dry.
“Things between us escalated so fast and became something I can’t do. I should have never let it get this far. I think we should stop seeing each other.”
“Do you not have feelings for me?” My bottom lip quivered.
“I do,” he said so matter-of-factly, confusing me even more.
“So then why can’t we make this work? Why would you want to let me go?” I replied with a lump in my throat as I fought back the tears threatening to spill over.
Ethan avoided eye contact with me. “I wish it were that simple,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “I care about you more than you realize, but I can’t give you what you deserve right now. If I’m being honest, I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to.”
The tears I had been holding back finally broke free, coursing down my cheeks as I stared at the person I thought I might have loved. The rain outside mirrored my emotions, a relentless downpour that seemed to have no end.
“Why do you get to decide what I deserve?” My sadness suddenly turned into anger.
“Sloane, we both know that you want and deserve a relationship. Someone who will put a label on things, show you off, meet your parents—all of it. I’m not that guy. I’ll never be that guy. Not for you, not for anyone.” His words stung.
“We don’t have to date. I told you I wasn’t sure if I was ready for a serious relationship yet either.” I tried to lie. “I’m happy with how things are going right now.”
“We both know that eventually this is going to have to be something more. We can’t stay in the in-between forever,” he said. “The longer we continue this, the worse it’s going to hurt in the end. I really don’t want to hurt you.”
“Am I not enough?” I managed through tears.
His face dropped. “Please don’t think for a second that any of this is your fault. It’s not at all. You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve this. I don’t want to take you down with me.”
I couldn’t look at him. I wanted to get out of the car and run into my apartment, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen in his passenger seat. Half of me never wanted to see him again, and the other half couldn’t bear the thought.
There were so many things I still wanted to say. We could have worked out, I knew we could. If he just put in a little more effort and I gave him a little more space. I could be the one if he just let me. I couldn’t change his mind though. You can’t love someone into changing—you shouldn’t have to. I knew that. So why didn’t I believe it?
My hand was shaking as I reached for the handle. Stepping out of the car, I slammed the door shut, trying to make a statement. I trudged through the parking lot without looking back, no matter how much I wanted to.
I had to accept that we were never going to get a chance. How was I able to fall in love with someone who wasn’t sure about me? What was so wrong with me that every time I got close to love, it ran from me?
The apartment was empty when I stepped inside, sopping wet from the rain. In the middle of the hallway, I peeled each piece of clothing off of my body one by one and threw them into the washing machine. I wrapped my hair in a towel, got into bed, and buried myself under the sheets. Within seconds I was uncontrollably sobbing. I’d never been hurt like that before. If I knew loving him would have hurt this badly, I would’ve never laid my eyes on him.