Chapter 6
TATUM
The streetlights flicker through the windows of my little yellow bug as we drive, casting alternating shadows across the dashboard. I’m wedged in the back seat with Ethan, his hand heavy on my thigh, while Brandon’s broad frame fills the driver’s seat, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
While I’d love a world in which Ethan and Brandon could be friends, I recognize they’re two very different people.
Still, the palpable tension in the tiny car feels different somehow, and the only thing I can attribute it to is the fact Brandon’s never really had to share me with anyone.
At twenty-one, I’ve barely dated. We’ve been two peas in a pod since that first day of middle school where he shared half his PB how much I want this to work.
He answers my plea with a smile, then asks, “So, Brandon, what do you think of Tatum’s plans to transfer?”
“You mean, her tentative plans,” Brandon says, his voice firm, and I inwardly groan because this isn’t the icebreaker I was hoping for.
“Seemed pretty solid to me last we spoke,” Ethan says, glancing down at me with a question in his eyes.
“It is,” I reassure him, shifting in my seat because I know if I look, Brandon will be staring at me. “You and I have spoken about it more this week.”
I flick my gaze to the rearview mirror, gauging Brandon’s reaction to the news. His throat bobs while his blue gaze shifts back to the road. “So, it’s definite then?” he asks, his tone gruff. “You’re really doing this?”
I bite my lip, the weight of his question settling heavy inside my chest. “I mean, it’s not official or anything, but . . .” I hesitate, feeling the weight of his gaze. “Yeah.”
“Well, there’s plenty of time to change your mind.”
Ethan stiffens beside me.
“Brandon,” I warn, turning to Ethan with a placating smile.
“He’s still adjusting to the idea,” I tell him, though I wonder if he’ll ever understand.
Not that I can blame him. If I returned to school to find out not only was Brandon serious about a girl, but he also planned on leaving to be with her, I’d probably freak out, too.
I slide a hand to my stomach where an ache blooms as Brandon pulls into the parking lot of Oakridge Hall. “Thanks for driving us,” I say when he turns the car off and hands me back my keys.
“Even though it was entirely unnecessary,” Ethan adds under his breath.
“Sure thing.” Brandon steps out of the car first, rounding it quickly and opening my door.
I mumble a quick, “thanks,” as I slide out, relieved to find Ethan too busy gathering his overnight bag from the back seat to notice.
Brandon closes the door softly behind me just as Chris pulls up behind him in his Bronco. I bite my lip, hating how awkward this feels. “Um, I guess I’ll see you later. Night.”
Brandon shoves his hands in his pockets, watching as I skirt the back of the car and join Ethan. “Yeah. Good night,” he says softly.
“Ready?” Ethan asks.
When I nod, he takes my hand and we turn for the dorms, my thoughts churning alongside my stomach. We’re mostly quiet as we head inside and toward my room.
My nerves buzz from the tense car ride, and I can’t help but blurt, “Well, that was . . . not great.”
Ethan chuckles, the sound a low rumble as we bypass the common room, which is thankfully devoid of my suitemates, before entering my bedroom, where he tosses his bag on my desk chair. “It was interesting, that’s for sure,” he says, like it’s all just some amusing experiment.
I cross my arms, leaning back against the door. “Interesting? Ethan, it was awful. You guys will never get along if it keeps going like that. I just—” My throat tightens. “I need you to be friends.”
He drops down onto my bed, propping his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, I don’t really see that happening.”
The sharpness of his words cuts through me, and I bristle. “That’s not fair. You don’t even know him. The two of you barely spoke, and when you did, you were—” I break off, shaking my head. “You can’t just decide you don’t like him after a fifteen-minute car ride.”
Ethan leans back on his palms, offering me a smile that makes my stomach twist, but not in a good way. “I know enough to see what kind of guy he is. And I’m not interested in being besties with your . . . football buddy.”
Something about the way he says “football buddy” makes my skin crawl, like Brandon is some brainless jock I’ve taken pity on when it couldn’t be further from the truth.
My jaw tightens, but instead of arguing, I take a deep breath and force brightness into my voice.
“Then let’s fix it. There’s a frat party tonight.
I wasn’t planning on going, but it’s the perfect chance for you two to actually get to know each other.
No pressure. Just fun. You’ll see he’s not so bad. ”
He hesitates, clearly not thrilled with the idea, but I’m grateful when he shrugs. “Fine. If it matters that much to you, I’ll do it.”
Relief floods through me, and I rush toward him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, hopeful despite the unease curling in my stomach. “It does. I’ll text him to make sure he’ll be there.”
Ethan doesn’t look convinced, but I cling to the tiny spark of possibility anyway. At least, he’s trying.