Chapter 15 #2
My gaze darts to Ethan, stunned at his rude outburst. While he hasn’t made it a secret he’s not a fan of our friendship, the last thing I expected was for him to bring it up in front of his parents.
Silence settles between us as I try and grapple for something to say and fail.
“Forgive me for interjecting here,” Clark says, motioning between us. “But it just seems if you’re serious about this,” he motions toward his son, “it’s inappropriate for you to be hanging out alone with other men in your free time. Am I wrong?”
“You’re not,” Ethan says, twisting the knife of betrayal a little deeper.
My hands curl in my lap, angry and annoyed and embarrassed with the trajectory of our conversation. Whether Ethan agrees with his father or not, it would be nice for him to defend me, not throw me under the bus.
My friendship with Brandon isn’t ordinary. Ethan knows that. Just like he knows there’s nothing between us.
“In fact,” Ethan continues, casually taking a bite of his dessert, like he’s discussing the weather, “I suggested as much just last weekend.”
I swallow. Cheeks burning as I search for a proper reply. “And I respected your opinion, which is why I went out with a nice group of girls just the other night.”
Little does he know half of them are dating Ann Arbor football players.
“Okay, you two, let’s leave our dear Tatum alone.” Diana reaches out and pats my hand, clearly taking pity on me. “Michigan State will be a fresh start. I’m sure you’ll meet lots of nice young ladies.”
I force a polite smile, even as my stomach twists.
A fresh start. The words land heavier than she probably intended, as if they’re code for leaving Brandon behind. And though I know that’s exactly what I’d be doing by transferring, the significance of it hits me like a ton of bricks.
Even when the conversation shifts from me and my friendships to Colorado ski conditions and the best hot chocolate in Breckenridge, the elephant on my chest remains.
I take a small bite of my tiramisu, letting the sweetness coat my tongue as I smile in all the right places and nod along.
But inside, my mind is a hamster wheel with my thoughts turning over and over in my head at warp speed.
And I can’t help but wonder, when winter comes, and I’m in the mountains with Ethan, will I be wishing I was with Brandon, building another ridiculous snowman and playing games with someone I’m not supposed to miss?
By the time dinner with Ethan’s parents is over, it’s late, and I’m exhausted.
I place my overnight bag on the bed and begin to unpack, ready for a shower and sleep before returning to campus tomorrow.
“You’re quiet,” Ethan says from his perch in the doorway of the guest room where he watches me work.
“Just tired,” I say, avoiding his eyes.
“They loved you, you know.” He steps into the room and leans against the dresser, his feet crossed at the ankles. “Mom’s already filling my ear with Christmas plans.”
“That’s nice.” I pull out my toiletry bag, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice. “They’re really great.”
“But?” Ethan crosses his arms, watching me. “But?”
“No buts. They’re lovely,” I say, though my tone implies otherwise.
He studies me for a moment before he sighs and shoves his hands in the pockets of his khakis. “Is this about the Brandon thing? Because I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, but my dad was just saying what I’ve been thinking and trying to get across to you for weeks.”
I set my pajamas on the bed with my toiletry bag—a modest cotton set I packed specifically for staying at his parents’ house. “It’s fine,” I say automatically, though it isn’t. The last thing I want to do is have our first fight when his parents are in the other room.
“You sure? Because you’ve seemed off ever since.”
I take a deep breath, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in this perfect guest room with its perfectly coordinating decor and fresh flowers. “I’m just tired, Ethan. It was a long drive, and meeting your parents was . . .”
“Stressful?” he supplies.
I nod, biting my lip as he crosses the room.
Wrapping his arms around my waist, he leans down, pressing his forehead to mine. “One day, I hope they’re more to you than just my parents. One day, I want this to feel like your home away from home.”
I swallow and take a step back, needing a little space.
He peers down at me with unmatched intensity. “Too much, too fast?”
I nod, even though I’m unsure that’s the problem. “Maybe a little.”
“Shit, Tatum, I’m sorry.” Ethan drags a hand down his face. “I’m not trying to push. I’m just . . . I want you in every aspect of my life. That’s how much I care about you.”
I soften, knowing Ethan has nothing but good intentions.
“I know.”
“Which is why I agreed with my father at dinner. I didn’t mean to pressure you about your friendship with Brandon or put you on the spot.”
The mention of Brandon’s name again makes my stomach tighten.
“I felt like you threw me under the bus.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “You could have explained our friendship to your parents instead of letting them think there’s something inappropriate about it.”
Ethan’s posture stiffens, his jaw tightening as he takes a step back.
“Throw you under the bus? That’s not fair, Tatum.
It’s not my fault.” His voice rises slightly.
“You’re the one who brought him up in the first place, going on and on about how amazing some ski weekend with him was.
Do you know how that looks, talking about some other dude? You made me look like a fool.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes as his words settle beneath my skin like darts. “I’m sorry, but things with Brandon and me are just—”
“Different,” Ethan finishes for me. “So you keep telling me.”
“Ethan . . .” I reach out, but he dodges my touch.
“You know, sometimes I feel like I’m playing second fiddle to him, like you’ll always prefer Brandon over me.”
“That’s not true,” I say, even though a small part of me wonders if there’s some truth to it. “Listen, part of me gets it. I mean, I understand where you and your father are coming from.”
“Do you?” His expression softens, his dark eyes melting like chocolate. “Because I’m not trying to control you, Tate. I just think when we’re serious about each other, certain boundaries make sense.”
I nod, because logically, I know he’s right. What kind of girlfriend keeps another guy as her closest confidant? Would any man be completely comfortable with that? And how would I feel if the roles were reversed?
I’d hate it.
My insecurities would run wild if Ethan had a female best friend he was constantly hanging out with and talking about. But I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do; it’s not like I can revoke Brandon’s best friend card.
“I’m going to shower,” I say, forcing a smile as I gather my things.
Ethan sighs and bends forward to press a kiss to my cheek. “I’ll be waiting for you when you get out.”
I nod and head into the guest bath, where I let the hot water cascade over my shoulders, washing away the tension of the evening.
Steam fills the small space as I try to sort through my jumbled thoughts, wishing Brandon would stop making an appearance—his easy smile, the way he knows exactly what to say to make me laugh.
Certain boundaries make sense.
Ethan’s words echo in the back of my mind as I shut off the water with more force than necessary and towel off, slipping into my pajamas.
God, maybe I’m just a selfish jerk. It shouldn’t even be a debate who to put first, should it? I’m with Ethan. So, Ethan needs to be the priority no matter how weird it feels to put my friendship with Brandon on the back burner.
Maybe Ethan’s right. Maybe I do need to create some distance between Brandon and me if I want this relationship to work.
Prepared to put the evening behind us and ask Ethan to forgive me for being so shortsighted, I open the bathroom door.
Steam billows out around me as I step into the bedroom and freeze.
Ethan is sitting on the edge of the bed, his face hard as stone.
In his hand is my phone, its screen glowing in the dimly lit room.
My stomach drops at the look in his eyes?anger and confusion and pain.
Then he stands, hand shaking as he extends the device toward me like it’s evidence in a trial.
“Just friends, huh?” His voice is dangerously quiet, close to being lethal. “Do I even want to know what the ‘massage incident’ was?”
I take the phone with trembling fingers, my cheeks burning so hot I’m surprised they don’t sizzle from my still-damp hair. Charlotte’s text glares up at me from the brightly lit screen: Has Brandon mentioned the massage incident? Girl, I can’t stop thinking about it.
I stare at Ethan, my mouth hanging open in shock as the blood rushes to my face. “You went through my phone?” The words come out strangled, caught between outrage and guilt.
“Don’t turn this around on me.” Ethan jabs a finger at the phone. “I heard it buzz while you were in the shower. I thought it might be important.”
“So, you read my private messages?” My hands are shaking now, clutching the phone like a lifeline, unsure if I even have a right to be angry.
“That’s not the point,” he says, his voice rising. “The point is you and your best friend are clearly doing more than just hanging out. A massage, Tatum? Really? Just what the hell happened the other night?”
I swallow over the growing lump in my throat, unsure of what to say. All I have is the truth, and the truth feels a little like an admission of guilt I’m not sure I’ve earned.
I breathe through my nose, struggling to get my bearings despite feeling trapped, cornered in this unfamiliar room in his parents’ house.
The walls seem to close in as I search for an explanation that won’t make this worse. “It wasn’t like that,” I finally say.
“Then what was it like?” His eyes bore into mine, demanding an explanation I’m not sure how to give.
God, it’s going to sound so much worse than it was.