Chapter Eleven
Ethan
College
I t’s been weeks since I walked out of Emma’s dorm room, and the ache in my chest hasn’t let up. I tell myself it’s better this way—better to put some distance between us, to let her live her life without me complicating things. But that’s a load of crap, and I know it.
The truth is, I can’t stop thinking about her. About what she said, or what I think I heard her say.
Regret.
That word’s been on a loop in my head, messing with me and hitting harder every time I think about it. I keep telling myself I don’t care—that she’s made her choice, and so have I. But then I see her in the library or passing by the quad, and it takes everything in me not to walk right up to her, to demand answers I’m not sure I even want .
Instead, I do what I’ve always done when I don’t know how to deal with my emotions—I bury them. I throw myself into football, practices, weight training and game prep. Scouts have been showing up more frequently, and I know I need to stay focused if I want any chance of going pro. Junior year’s supposed to be when everything starts to matter. Scouts. Grades. Future plans. It’s all happening faster than I’m ready for. But even then, she’s there, in the back of my mind, distracting me at every turn.
By Friday night, I’ve reached my limit with my own nonsense. I need a distraction—something to take my mind off Emma and the mess I’ve made of everything. So when Jace suggests hitting up a party off-campus, I don’t think twice. Maybe a little noise and chaos is exactly what I need.
The party’s already in full swing by the time we arrive, the bass from the music thrumming through the walls, mingling with the sound of laughter and drunken shouts. Jace grabs a drink and immediately starts chatting up some girl near the bar, while I hang back, nursing a beer and scanning the crowd.
And then I see Emma.
She’s standing near the stairs, her head tilted slightly as she talks to some guy I don’t recognize. She’s smiling, that soft, genuine smile that always used to be for me, and something inside me snaps .
Before I can stop myself, I grab another drink and head toward a group of girls sitting near the edge of the dance floor. One of them, a brunette with bright eyes and a flirty smile, catches my eye immediately. She’s cute, but that’s not why I’m here.
I lean in, making some dumb joke about the music being too loud, and she laughs, her hand resting lightly on my arm. It’s way too easy to play the part of flirt, to let her pull me toward the couch, to let her sit a little too close, her body pressing against mine as we talk. I barely register her name—Sophia, maybe?—because all I can think about is Emma, standing a few feet away, still smiling at that guy like he’s the only person in the room.
Sophia says something I don’t catch, her fingers trailing down my arm, and I turn to her, forcing a smile. “Sorry, what was that?”
She laughs, leaning closer. “I said, you look like you could use another drink.”
I shake my head, setting my empty cup aside. “I’m good for now. Just… enjoying the view.” As I say this, I look down at her cleavage, something she has a lot of. But I do it because from the corner of my eye, I can see Emma looking over here.
This chick’s eyes light up at the comment, and before I know it, she’s leaning in, her lips brushing against mine. It’s quick at first, tentative, but then she deepens the kiss, her hands sliding into my hair. I let her, my mind a haze of bitterness and regret.
When I pull back slightly, I glance toward the stairs, hoping—dreading—that Emma saw. She’s still there, but her smile has faded, her gaze locked on us for a brief moment before she turns away, disappearing into the crowd.
The satisfaction I thought I’d feel never comes. Instead, my stomach twists, guilt creeping in, a totally unwelcome guest. But I push it down, forcing myself to focus on the girl in front of me, on the way she looks at me like I’m the center of her world. For tonight, I’ll let her believe it.
Over the next week, I keep up the act. Whenever I see Emma on campus, I make sure she sees me, too—always with another girl, always laughing or flirting without a care in the world. I tell myself it’s what she wants, that she’s moved on, so I should too. But every time I catch her glancing my way, her expression unreadable, the guilt twists more.
One afternoon, I spot her in the quad, sitting under one of the oak trees with a book in her lap. She stands there, completely at ease, untouched by any of it. Meanwhile, I’ve been wrecking myself over her.
As I pass by with Jace and a couple of the other guys, I make sure to laugh a little louder, and drape my arm casually around the girl walking next to me. Emma doesn’t look up, but I see the way her shoulders tense, the way her fingers grip the edge of her book a little harder.
“Dude, you’re laying it on awfully thick,” Jace mutters under his breath as we walk past. “You trying to piss someone off?”
I don’t answer, because he’s right, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do and we both know it.
A few nights later, another party, another distraction. This time it’s some girl named Taylor, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders as she drags me onto the dance floor. She’s all energy, laughing and twirling like she owns the room, and for a while, I let myself get caught up in it. Her hands on my shoulders, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispers something suggestive, grinding on me and I let her. It’s all just noise, drowning out the thoughts I don’t want to face.
But then, I turn my head just enough and I see Emma.
She’s standing near the door, arms crossed, her expression shattered as she watches me. Our eyes meet for a split second before she turns and walks away, and that look on her face—pain, disappointment, and even anger—hits me harder than I expect.
Taylor pulls me closer, her hands sliding down my chest, but I barely feel it. My gaze is fixed on the empty space where Emma had been, my chest tightening with something I can’t name.
“Ethan?” Taylor’s voice snaps me back to the present, and I force a smile, shaking my head.
“Yeah, sorry. Just spaced out for a sec.” I reply.
But the truth is, I’m not here. I’m not anywhere. And no matter how many parties I go to or how many girls I kiss, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m losing something—someone—that I might never get back.
The next morning, the guilt from last night is impossible to ignore. I sit in the locker room after practice, my head resting against the cool metal of my locker, the sounds of my teammates’ voices bouncing around me. They’re laughing, shouting about plans for the weekend, but I can’t bring myself to join in.
All I can think about is Emma. The way she looked at me before walking out of that party. The way her shoulders slumped, like I’d taken something from her.
“Hey, you good, man?” Jace’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I glance up to see him leaning against the lockers, his brow furrowed.
“Yeah,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. “Just tired.”
Jace doesn’t buy it. He crosses his arms, his expression skeptical. “You’ve been in a mood all week. Let me guess— Emma?”
I don’t respond, but the way my jaw tightens must give me away because he sighs, shaking his head.
“Look, I’m not saying you have to talk about it, but whatever’s going on with you two? It’s eating you alive, dude. You’ve gotta figure that shit out.”
“Figure out what?” I snap, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “She’s the one who—”
I stop myself, my words hanging in the air like a dare I don’t want to follow through on.
“She’s the one who what?” Jace presses, his tone gentler now. “You sure it’s all on her? Because from where I’m standing you’re being an asshole to her. You think I haven’t noticed the way you hang all over girls when you know she’s around?”
I glare at him, but the truth stings too much to deny. “I don’t know, man. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s me. I just…”
He raises an eyebrow, waiting, but I shake my head and push off the bench. “Forget it.”
But the thing is, I don’t want to forget it. I don’t want to forget her. But every time I think about going to her and clearing the air, I hear that word in my head again.
Regret.
She regrets me .
Later that afternoon, I find myself wandering the campus aimlessly, my feet leading me to places I don’t even realize I’m heading until I’m there. When I pass by the library, I pause, catching sight of her through the window.
She’s sitting at her usual table, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, her face buried in a textbook. There’s a guy sitting next to her, leaning in a little too close as he says something that makes her laugh. I miss her laugh. I haven’t heard it in weeks, and it hits harder than I want to admit.
My first instinct is to go in there, stake my claim, remind her that she’s mine even if neither of us has said the words out loud. But what right do I have? After everything I’ve done, after the way I’ve acted, how could I expect her to still want me?
I turn away before she can see me, shoving my hands into my pockets and heading back toward the quad. The air is cool against my skin, but it does nothing to quiet the turmoil in my chest.
By the time the weekend rolls around, I’ve had enough of myself. Another party, another excuse to drown out the noise in my head. This time, it’s at one of the frat houses, and the place is packed. Music blares from every corner, the smell of beer and cheap cologne hanging thick in the air.
I grab a drink and find a spot near the edge of the room, scanning the crowd. It doesn’t take long for someone to approach—a girl with dark curls and a confident smile. She introduces herself as Olivia, and I nod along as she talks, barely registering her words. She’s pretty, sure, but I don’t really care.
It doesn’t take long before she’s leaning in closer, her hand touching my chest as she laughs at something I’m not even sure was funny. I let it happen, let her think I’m interested, because for a moment, it feels like an escape. It’s impossible for me to forget the way Emma looked at me, or the way this gaping hole in my chest has felt hollow ever since.
When Olivia leans in to kiss me, I let her, my hands settling on her waist as I pull her closer. It’s mechanical, automatic—nothing like the way it feels when I kiss Emma. But I keep going, letting her hands wander, letting the kiss deepen. The girl grinds into me and I don’t stop her, maybe this will drown out all the thoughts in my head. My hands start running down the girls body and I grip her ass, deciding I might as well try to enjoy this, until I hear it.
A sharp intake of breath.
I pull back just enough to glance over Olivia’s shoulder, and I see Emma.
She’s standing near the door, not alone this time. Sarah’s at her side, her arm looped casually through Emma’s, their expressions contrasting one anothers. Sarah looks unimpressed, her sharp eyes scanning the room, sizing up every person in it, while Emma looks… hurt. Devastated, even. Her wi de eyes find mine across the room, and for a second, the world stops.
She’s not supposed to be here. Why has she been at so many parties lately? Emma doesn’t do parties—not without me. But, she’s here, standing in the doorway in her fitted jeans and a soft sweater that clings in all the right places, looking out of place in the best way. She’s everything this place isn’t, and the moment I saw her, my stomach twisted painfully.
I see the moment it clicks for her. Olivia’s hand is still on my chest, and my hand is resting too comfortably on her ass. The color drains from Emma’s face, replaced by something colder, harder.
“Ethan?” Olivia’s voice pulls me back, her hand brushing against my chest. “You okay?”
I push her off of me, putting space between us and getting up. “Yeah, I just… I need some air.”
But before I get to the door, I hear Emma softly say, “Let’s go,” tugging on Sarah’s arm.
But Sarah doesn’t move. She’s not like Emma. Sarah isn’t the type to stay quiet. Her eyes narrow, and before I can blink, she’s storming toward me, leaving Emma frozen by the door.
“Sarah, wait—” Emma starts, but Sarah’s already in my face, her expression set in a mix of anger and disappointment .
“What the hell is wrong with you, Ethan?” Sarah hisses, keeping her voice low enough not to draw attention but sharp enough to cut. “Do you even realize what you’re doing?”
I glance past her, my eyes darting to Emma, who’s still lingering near the door, looking torn between bolting and staying to see what happens.
“Sarah, this isn’t the time,” I mutter, trying to step around her, but she doesn’t let me off that easily.
“Oh, it’s the perfect time,” she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve been acting like a complete asshole, and for what? So you could hurt her? Maybe feel like the big man on campus? Because if that’s your goal, congratulations—you’re nailing it.”
I clench my jaw, my hands balling into fists at my sides. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” Sarah’s eyes blaze with fury. “Emma hasn’t done anything wrong. Not a fucking thing. She’s been working her ass off, trying to balance all of her responsibilities, and all you’ve done is shut her out and act like she doesn’t exist. And for what? Some petty revenge for something she didn’t even do?”
“Stay out of it, Sarah,” I growl, my voice low, but she doesn’t flinch.
“NO,” she snaps back. “I won’t. Because she’s my friend, and I’m not going to stand by while you treat her like shit. If you’re too much of a coward to talk to her, and actually figure out what’s going on, then maybe you don’t deserve her.”
Her words hit harder than I want to admit, but before I can say anything back, she turns on her heel and marches back to Emma, who’s still standing by the door, her arms wrapped around her like she’s trying to hold herself together.
Sarah leans in, saying something to her, and Emma nods, letting Sarah steer her out of the house. She doesn’t look back, and I don’t stop her.
As the door swings shut behind them, the weight of what just happened settles over me like a lead weight. Sarah’s words keep playing in my head, each one hitting harder than the last.
You don’t deserve her.
For the first time, I wonder if she’s right.
After a moment, I step outside and lean against the railing, running a hand through my hair as I stare out at the yard. The image of Emma’s face is burned into my mind, the hurt in her eyes twisting the knife even deeper.
This isn’t who I am. This isn’t who I want to be.
But every time I think about facing her, the fear creeps back in. Fear that it’s too late, that I’ve already pushed her too far. Fear that maybe I’m not what she needs after all .
And so, I stand here staring out into the darkness, wondering if I’ll ever find my way back to her—or if I even deserve to.