Chapter 10 #2
His arm tightens around my waist in response to my proximity, and I realize with a jolt that last night wasn’t just a dream. I hadn’t just imagined it.
I had sex.
For the first time.
With Ethan.
Wasted.
I shift, burrowing my face into the pillow and the soreness between my legs serves as a reminder.
The events of the prior evening come filtering back to me in slow motion, bringing with them a wave of heat that rushes to my cheeks and a pit of dread that settles low in my stomach.
I squeeze my eyes closed tighter, swallowing against the dryness in my throat as nausea washes over me—not just from the hangover, but from the weight of what we did.
God, what was I thinking? My first time was supposed to be special, meaningful. Not some two-minute romp in my dorm room with my head spinning from the gallon of jungle juice I chugged at some Friday night frat party.
My head begins to pound as if I need the reminder of how much I drank, and I groan, bringing my fingers to my temples.
Ethan’s soft lips press against my shoulder with a chuckle. “Morning, beautiful. I’m guessing you don’t feel so well?”
“You guess right,” I mumble, my voice scratchy like I smoked a pack of cigarettes.
“Last night was incredible,” he says, resting his chin on my shoulder.
“Yeah,” I agree, with zero feeling, but if Ethan notices, he doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he tugs me into his chest and stares into my eyes with a look so intense, it makes my heart pound.
I bite my lip, willing him to say something—anything—to make me feel better about what we did last night. For him to tell me he loves me. That he got carried away, but he promises the next time will be better—special.
His lips part, and I hold my breath, waiting to see what romantic thing is about to spill from his lips when he asks, “Do you have anything for breakfast?”
My heart stalls inside my chest, and I stare at him, certain he must be messing with me.
When he grins, I nudge his chest with the back of my hand.
“Pancakes would be amazing,” he adds.
Or not.
The nausea from earlier returns with a vengeance, forcing me to take deep breaths through my nose so I don’t get sick.
Once I’m certain I won’t barf whatever meager contents of my stomach remain, I try my best to plaster on a smile and say, “Unlike you, I live in a dorm room, Ethan, not an apartment. I don’t have groceries, let alone a skillet to make pancakes.”
“Oh. I thought maybe you had one of those hot plates.”
I shake my head, trying not to get angry, because the only thing that will make last night worse is if we get into a fight the morning after. “Nope. Sorry.”
“Okay. So . . . do you want to order something, or . . .?”
I grit my teeth, trying not to let my irritation show. We had sex for the first time last night—my first time ever—while I was inebriated and all he can think about the minute he opens his eyes is his stomach?
Am I being irrational right now to be at least a little bit pissed?
I swallow down my anger, not entirely convinced I have a right to it. After all, I consented. I said yes. Well, maybe not that exact word, but I knew what was happening and I went along with it because I wanted to prove to him that I care about him. This is on me as much as it is him.
But he was barely buzzed. He was in his right mind; you weren’t.
I shove the thought aside, needing to clear my head. “Just let me take a quick shower, and I’ll scrounge up something.”
Rolling out of bed, I stand, steadying myself with a hand on my desk as the room sways. God, how much did I drink? I grab my shower caddy from the large wardrobe and head for the communal shower in our suite where I allow the hot water to wash away my conflicted feelings about last night.
Once I feel slightly more human, I towel off and down a glass of water along with two Motrin as I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, noting the dark circles beneath my eyes with a grimace.
I thought I would feel different after I lost my virginity—changed in a good way, like I’m more of a woman or something, but I don’t. I just feel . . . disappointed . . . empty.
Shit, maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m just bad at this, and I’m an awful girlfriend.
A million different judgments run through my head, but I shove each of them back down to where they came from because now is not the time.
I still have the rest of the weekend to spend with Ethan before he goes back to Michigan State, and then I’ll have all the time I want to contemplate everything that happened.
Returning to my bedroom, I dress quickly and slide my phone in my pocket, ignoring the niggling urge to call Brandon and tell him all about my night, like I always do when something big happens.
But I can’t. This wasn’t a normal night, and it’s not something I can just casually tell him, which sucks because I really could use a friend right now.
I rummage through my mini fridge while Ethan takes his turn in the bathroom, finding nothing but a half-empty bottle of Gatorade and some questionable yogurt. With a sigh, I check the freezer compartment and spot the box of Hot Pockets I bought last week.
“Hope you like pepperoni pizza for breakfast,” I say, holding up the box when Ethan returns from his shower.
He stretches, then gives a little shrug. “Better than nothing.”
I grab two from the box and head to our suite’s common area, conscious of Ethan following behind me in nothing but his boxers. I pop them inside the microwave and hit the quick start button.
As the microwave hums, I turn to face a beaming Ethan. Standing in front of me in nothing but his underwear, I can’t help but notice how happy he looks?happier than I’ve ever seen him?and it’s not entirely lost on me that I was the one to put that smile on his face.
My gaze quickly flickers over his body as I bite my lip. It’s a monumental effort not to compare his body to Brandon’s. Because if the two stood side by side, I’m not sure there’d be much of a comparison. Where Brandon’s body is all hard lines and muscle, Ethan’s is on the softer, leaner side.
Taking my perusal for invitation, Ethan draws closer and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into his chest where I instantly tense, then force myself to relax. This should feel good, right? Natural?
“I can’t wait to have a repeat of last night,” he murmurs in my ear before he brushes a soft kiss against my neck.
I hum out a response while a surge of panic sweeps through me at the prospect of doing that again, followed by guilt.
The microwave beeps, and the tension in my body melts as I turn and grab the Hot Pockets, placing each one on a paper plate before handing one to Ethan. “Careful, they’re hot,” I warn as we take them to the couch.
“Maybe if I burn my taste buds off, I won’t taste them,” he says with a wink.
I chuckle, taking his joke in stride as I focus on my food, surprised when he says, “You’re gorgeous.”
I glance up at him to find him staring, his eyes soft as he tells me again, “Seriously. You’re gorgeous.”
My heart softens, and I duck my head, feeling a small smile tug at my lips in spite of myself. Maybe I’ve been too hard on him, judged him harshly. After all, he really cares about me, and I like him. A lot. More than a lot.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
After a few minutes, we finish our breakfast, then lounge around, making a plan to grab lunch and a movie this afternoon when my phone rings.
I fish it out of my pocket, and glance at it to see Brandon’s name flashing across the screen. It’s the second time he’s called this morning, and though I’d love to hear his voice, I send it to voicemail. We’ll have plenty of time to talk once Ethan’s back at school.
“Who is it?” Ethan asks, watching me as he pulls on a clean T-shirt.
“Huh? No one.” I scan the room, hoping for a distraction when I ask, “You ready to go?”
“You know, it occurred to me last night that I’ve never really heard you talk about any girl friends,” he says, and my stomach sinks. He saw my phone.
I shift, unsure of what he’s trying to say.
“Is there anyone you hang out with other than Brandon?” he asks.
And there it is.
“Um, there are a few girls that sometimes go out with us,” I say, even though I’m not sure they consider me a friend, seeing as how I only know them through Brandon.
“We’re not super close, but a few of them are dating some of Brandon’s teammates, so they’re always around as we get along pretty well. ”
Ethan nods, and I can see his wheels spinning. “So, this is a group thing? With guys from the football team?”
I nod, twisting my hands out in front of me.
“Have you ever thought of hanging out with them separately? I mean, don’t you want girl friends? Don’t you miss bonding over clothes and hair and makeup and shit?”
Clothes and hair and makeup?
I almost laugh at how sexist a statement it is. Even though he’s not entirely wrong?I do sometimes wish I had closer female friends?Brandon has always been everything I’ve ever needed.
Not that I can tell him that.
“Um, yeah, I guess so,” I say, not wanting to rock the boat.
“I just think it wouldn’t hurt to maybe put a little distance between you and Brandon. You know, set some boundaries now that you’re in a committed relationship.”
“Boundaries,” I repeat like I don’t comprehend.
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I mean, you can’t really expect to be his best friend forever, can you? Casual friends, maybe. Acquaintances, definitely. But it’s not like we can be together and talk about a future, when you’re still hanging out with another dude alone.”
He’s not just “another dude.”
I blink at him, my mind whirring. “But . . . we’re just friends, and I’ve always hung out with Brandon alone. Nothing’s ever happened,” I insist, putting the emphasis on nothing.
Ethan chuckles and places his hands on either side of my arms, looking down on me like I’m a child in need of reasoning.
“Yeah, but at some point, your relationship is bound to change with us getting serious. I’m going to want all your free time spent with me, and even if you had a day free, do you really think it’s appropriate to spend it with another man? ”
I swallow as I soak in his words.
I shouldn’t be shocked. It’s not like I haven’t thought the same thing or heard some variation or other of this before. But I can’t even compute a world in which I’m not Brandon Lambert’s best friend.
“Anyway,” he says, giving my arms a little squeeze before releasing me, “just something to think about.”