Chapter 8
Ethan
I meant every word of that note.
And I hate myself for it. Because the truth is, staying away from Ivy is killing me. But hurting her is worse.
So I back off. Do exactly what I promised.
Monday, I go to a different coffee shop. Even though it's farther away and the coffee is worse.
Tuesday, in Business Strategy, when I have thoughts on the discussion, I write them down instead of interrupting. Professor Hendricks notices my unusual silence but doesn't comment.
Wednesday, I arrive at our project meeting exactly on time. Sit where she hasn't claimed. Keep my comments professional and brief.
"Your market analysis is excellent," I tell her, reviewing her latest work.
"Thank you."
"I've revised the supply chain section. Incorporated your feedback."
"I'll review it." She says, with no emotion in her tone.
That's it. That's the entire conversation. Forty-five minutes of stilted professionalism and careful distance.
It's torture.
Thursday, I see her in the quad. She's laughing with Isla and Lennox, her whole face lit up. Happy.
I take a different path. Make sure she doesn't see me. Because if she sees me, she'll remember that I exist.
Friday, Marcus confronts me.
"Okay, what's going on? You've been weird all week."
"I'm backing off. Like she asked." I say not looking at him.
"And you're miserable."
"That's not relevant."
"It's completely relevant." He sits on his desk chair backwards, studying me. "Look, I don't know what happened between you two, but this thing where you're torturing yourself by staying away, it's not healthy."
"Neither is tormenting her by showing up everywhere."
"So find a middle ground. Talk to her. Actually talk, not whatever hostile thing you've been doing."
"She doesn't want to talk to me."
"Have you asked?" I think for a moment before I reply.
"I don't need to ask. She made it very clear."
Marcus sighs. "You're impossible. You know that, right?"
"I'm aware."
My phone buzzes. Email from Professor Hendricks with details about the October trip.
The research visit to NovaShop headquarters is scheduled for October 15-17. Please review the attached itinerary.
Transportation: University van, departure 8 AM on the 15th
Accommodation: Harbor View Hotel, Boston. Rooms assigned by partnership pairs.
Schedule: Day 1 - Travel, evening team briefing Day 2 - Company visit, executive interviews Day 3 - Data analysis, return trip
Please confirm attendance by the end of week.
I forward it to Ivy without comment.
Her response comes three hours later. Confirmed. I'll bring my own materials. We can work separately.
Me: Whatever you prefer.
Ivy: I prefer we weren't partners at all. But here we are.
I stare at the message for a long time.
Want to respond with: I prefer we were more than partners. I prefer we were what we used to be. I prefer I never hurt you.
Instead, I type. See you on the 15th.
Her response is immediate: Don't make this harder than it has to be.
Me: I won't. I promise.
And I mean it. The trip will be professional. Distant. Everything she's asked for.
Even if maintaining that distance destroys me.
The week before the trip, my mother calls.
"I heard you've been behaving yourself. No more incidents with Miss Chen."
Incidents. Like my harassment of Ivy was a minor behavioral issue.
"We're working together. Professionally."
"Good. Your father and I were concerned you might repeat past mistakes." God her words angry me, and I want to say so much more, but don’t.
"What past mistakes?"
"Getting too attached. Letting emotions override judgment." Her voice is cool. "That girl was a distraction then. She would be a distraction now."
"Her name is Ivy."
"Excuse me?"
"You keep calling her 'that girl' or 'Miss Chen.' Her name is Ivy and she wasn't a distraction. She was my best friend."
"Until you realized she was inappropriate for your future."
"Until you threatened to destroy her family if I didn't cut her off."
Silence on the other end.
"I don't know what you're referring to—"
"Yes, you do. You gave me an ultimatum. Her or my future. You threatened her family's restaurant. Made it impossible for me to choose her."
"We did what was necessary to protect you—"
"You did what was convenient to control me. There's a difference." My hand tightens on the phone. "And I chose wrong. I chose you and I've regretted it every single day for three years."
"Ethan, you're being dramatic—"
"I'm being honest. For the first time in years, I'm being honest." I take a breath. "I'm not the son you want. I don't want the future you've planned and I'm done pretending otherwise."
"If you think—"
I hang up not wanting to listen to what she has to say, I have a headache, and arguing with my mother will not help me.
I sit there for a long moment, my heart pounding, adrenaline coursing through me.
I just told my mother the truth. Admitted the regret. Challenged her control. It feels terrifying and liberating in equal measure.
My phone immediately starts ringing again. I turn it off.
Marcus walks in, takes one look at my face. "What happened?"
"I just told my mother I regret choosing them over Ivy."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah."
"How do you feel?" He asks.
"Terrified. Relieved. Like I'm about to vomit."
"That's normal." Marcus sits next to me. "What are you going to do now?"
"I don't know. Go on this trip. Be professional like I promised. Figure out the rest later."
"Or," Marcus suggests, "you could tell Ivy the truth. About your parents. About why you really did what you did."
"She won't believe me."
"Maybe not. But at least she'll know. At least you'll have tried."
He's right. I know he's right.
But the thought of telling Ivy everything about the ultimatum, the threat, the impossible choice and watching her decide it doesn't matter because I still chose wrong.
That's worse than her hating me for being an asshole.
The truth is, I was a coward. I let my parents control me. I chose the easy path of obedience over the hard path of protecting the person I loved.
That's not manipulation. That's just a weakness and I don't know if Ivy can forgive weakness.
October 15th arrives too quickly.
I'm at the van at 7:45 AM, earlier than necessary, because I'm pathologically unable to be late.
Ivy arrives at 7:58, professional in dark jeans and a blazer, her hair pulled back, her expression carefully neutral.
"Morning," I say.
"Morning."
We load our bags and get in the van. Six other project pairs are coming on this trip, twelve students total, plus Professor Hendricks as supervisor.
Ivy deliberately sits as far from me as possible. Takes a seat next to Riley, her study group friend.
Fine. I'll sit alone.
The drive to Boston is three hours. I spend it staring out the window, listening to music, trying not to think about the fact that I'm going to spend the next two nights in close proximity to the one person I want but can't have.
When we arrive at Harbor View Hotel, Professor Hendricks hands out room assignments.
"Remember, you're rooming with your project partners. This is a professional trip. I expect professional behavior."
Ivy's face goes pale. "We're sharing a room?"
"Each partnership pair has a room. Two beds," Professor Hendricks clarifies. "Is that a problem?"
"No," I say quickly. "No problem."
Ivy shoots me a look that could kill, but she doesn't argue.
We get our room key and head to the third floor. Room 312.
I unlock the door and we both stop in the doorway.
There's only one bed.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Ivy says.
I check the room number. Check the key. It's definitely our room and there's definitely only one king-sized bed.
"I'll go back to the desk," I say immediately. "Get this fixed—"
"They're fully booked. I heard the desk clerk say so when we checked in." Ivy drops her bag. "This is the only room available."
We stare at each other. At the bed. At the impossible situation we're in.
"I'll sleep on the floor," I offer.
"Don't be ridiculous. It's a huge bed. We're both adults. We can share without making it weird."
"Are you sure?"
"Do I look like I have a choice?" She starts unpacking her things with sharp, angry movements. "Just stay on your side. Don't talk to me and absolutely do not make this into something it's not."
"I won't. I promise."
"You keep promising things. Let's see if you can actually follow through this time."
The barb hits its mark, but I deserve it.
So I just nod and start unpacking my own stuff, trying not to think about the fact that I'm going to spend the next two nights sleeping three feet away from Ivy Chen.
The girl I'm still in love with.
Who hates me more than anyone else in the world.
This is going to be the longest two nights of my life.