Chapter 15 #3
I take my phone from him, closing out of the text messages as my mind races. “It was nothing. It was just an awkward situation, that’s all.”
“That’s not what that text sounds like. It sounds like that asshole did something, and I want to know what it is.”
My cheeks burn with mortification as I remember the feel of Brandon pressed against me. How the hell do I explain that?
“It was nothing—stupid, really.” I close my eyes as I start to explain. “We were having a spa day.”
“Which means what exactly?”
I bite my lower lip and blink my eyes open. “We were doing face masks and my nails,” I say, thinking of my bright-pink toes and how he said my feet were cute. “And he didn’t want the mask on his face anymore, so he took his off and rubbed my shoulders while my mask and nails dried.”
“And?” The muscle in Ethan’s jaw flickers, a warning he’s close to losing it. “Did he cross the line? Did he touch you—”
“No. No, he didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just . . .” I cover my face with my hands, mumbling, “I noticed he”?I swallow?“he?”
“He what?” Ethan snaps, clearly growing impatient.
Rip the Band-Aid off, Tate.
“I noticed he was”?I gesture toward Ethan’s waist?“turned on.”
Ethan’s eyes round, wide as hockey pucks.
“But it was nothing,” I blurt out. “Just a human reaction to, you know . . . Anyway, it got weird for a second, and I immediately got up and removed myself from the situation and went back to my dorm after.”
“Fucking hell, Tatum!” Ethan drags a hand down his face, a red flush rising from his neck to his cheeks. “If you wanted a massage, I would’ve fucking booked you one at the fucking spa.”
“I know! I’m sorry,” I wail. “But it wasn’t like that. It was innocent, I swear.”
Was it, though? The little voice in the back of my head skitters through my thoughts, unbidden and unwelcome as I remember the way his strong, calloused hands felt sliding over my muscles.
“No,” Ethan shakes his head, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Innocent doesn’t get a guy hard, Tatum. And it sure as hell doesn’t leave you running to the bathroom to hide from it.”
My breath catches. “How did you—”
“Charlotte’s other texts,” he says, holding up his hand when I start to protest. “Yeah, I read them all. Your whole little group chat dissecting what happened with Brandon’s dick.”
The humiliation is so complete, I want to sink through the floor.
God, what if his parents can hear us?
I set my phone down on the dresser, trembling as Ethan paces to the window, his back rigid as he stares out into the darkness. When he turns, his hands come to rest on his hips, his shoulders squared like he’s bracing for impact. “I just don’t know if I can do this anymore. I really don’t.”
No. No, no, no, no!
“I’m putting my heart on the line here.” He points to his chest and my stomach sinks. “How am I supposed to move forward with you, when you’re spending so much time with him doing god-knows-what, when he clearly has a thing for you?”
The words land like blows to my chest. Each one precise and painful. Because he’s right. Of course he is.
“Ethan, please,” I whisper, rushing to him and reaching for his arm, only for him to pull back. “It was a one-time thing. I can promise you, there is nothing between me and Brandon.”
A bitter laugh bubbles from his throat as he turns his back to me, shoulders hunched like he’s been beaten.
“If you’d just listen.” I take a step forward and place a hand on his arm when he whirls around, grabbing my forearms, a painful force as he pins me to the wall at my back.
“You really expect me to believe this is the first time something like this has happened?” He squeezes harder, his fingers like a vise, and I wince. “God, you must think I’m stupid,” he sneers.
“I don’t.”
He shakes me like a ragdoll, and I gasp as his fingertips sink deeper into my flesh. “Ow. Ethan!” I grit my teeth and try to shake him off, but it’s no use, his grip is too hard. “Let go. You’re hurting me,” I cry.
He blinks, his dark eyes widening before he loosens his grip, his fingers releasing me like he’s been burned.
“Shit.” He stumbles back, running a hand through his hair while my arms throb, feeling the phantom pressure of his fingers. “Tatum, I’m so sorry.” His voice cracks, his face pale. “I didn’t mean to—I would never—”
“I know,” I whisper, but my heart is still racing, unsure of what to make of his lack of control.
“I just . . .” He trails off, his throat bobbing with emotion before he continues, “When I saw those texts, I just assumed the worst because it’s clear he has a thing for you. I mean, look at you.” He motions toward me. “How could he not?”
I clamp my lips shut, fighting the urge to argue, to insist Brandon doesn’t see me like that, because it won’t help matters. And because I’m still reeling from what just happened.
“And you’ve been so reluctant to put distance between you, it made me wonder . . .”
“Made you wonder what?” I ask, hugging my arms to my chest, ignoring the red splotches from his hands on my skin.
“Whether he’s the hang-up, the reason you’re not there with me yet.”
Silence settles between us, before he reaches out and gently cradles my face in his hands, like I’m something precious. Like he’d never hurt me.
“Seeing that text, it made me go momentarily crazy.” He leans down and brushes a soft kiss to the tip of my nose. “God, if you knew how much I care about you, Tatum . . .”
I swallow, reaching up to grip the arms holding my face, whispering, “I know.”
“Do you?”
I nod.
“Then you can understand why I think your friendship with Brandon has run its course, that it’s best you set it aside for the sake of our relationship.”
The words hit me like ice water. Set it aside. Like Brandon is just some hobby I’ve outgrown, not the person who’s been my constant for years.
“Ethan . . .” I start, but he presses a finger gently to my lips.
“I know it’s hard, but it’s the only way forward for us. You see how crazy him being near you makes me. I need to know that I’m your priority, that there’s nothing between you and Brandon that could threaten what we have.”
His dark eyes search mine, full of vulnerability that makes my chest ache.
This is what I wanted, isn’t it?
Ethan. This relationship. Moving schools.
It’s what I’ve been working toward.
But suddenly, it all feels too fast. Like I haven’t even had time to process it all—my relationship and all the choices I’ve made since meeting Ethan.
I swallow, my thoughts racing as I try to imagine my life without Brandon in it, and the prospect leaves a hollow ache in my chest. But isn’t that exactly the problem? I shouldn’t need him like I do.
“Okay,” I whisper, the word scraping against my throat like broken glass.
“Thank you.” Ethan’s face transforms, relief flooding his features as he pulls me into his arms, his breath hot on my hair when he says, “This is going to be so good for us, Tate. You’ll see.”