Chapter Ten #3
Ethan blinked at me as if he was as confused by whatever was going on with us as I was. He ran a hand through his hair as I cleared my throat, willing my cheeks not to flush while I took my phone out.
“I’m gonna film with this.” I waved the phone at him, still feeling flustered. “It’s too crowded to use my big camera.”
“Um. Okay.” Ethan sounded groggy as if he was reconnecting us with the reason we were here.
Turning my back to him, I carefully removed my backpack and set it on the ground, then looped one strap around my ankle so no one could scoop it up and take off with it.
A hush fell over the crowd as the fountain lights came on and music started to play.
I tried to focus on my camera as the first spout of water shot up, but I couldn’t.
At least, not the way I usually did when I was working.
Ethan was standing near enough to me that I could feel the warmth of his body along my back.
The smell of his soap worked its way through my memory.
A piece of me wanted to lean back and snuggle into his chest. To take a deep breath and wrap myself in him.
Another burst of water shot up from the opposite end of the pool as the music crescendoed, and I was slow to pan to it.
We didn’t have time for me to miss shots.
I was being ridiculous. If I wanted to win the contest and get my parents off my case, I needed to focus on the task at hand, not on the boy behind me.
Holding my breath, I hoped that if I couldn’t smell him, whatever this feeling was would go away.
I managed to film the rest of the show without any more slipups. Ethan stepped back as the crowd dispersed, giving me room to unlace my backpack from my ankle and put it back on.
“What’d you think?” he asked as I readjusted the straps on my bag.
“The show was cool. I didn’t realize that it was set to music. It felt like a fountain dancing in an old Western movie.”
“Right.” Ethan’s voice got louder as joy washed over him. “Like a guy on a horse should ride down the sidewalk or something.”
“Can you imagine?” I giggled, letting the image play out in my mind. “I feel like that would be either a really good start or a really good ending to a Vegas comedy movie.”
“When you become a famous director, please make that movie…” Ethan trailed off as he smiled down at me.
“I would have to be incredibly famous to convince people to watch that. Who would watch a Western set in modern Vegas?” I laughed.
“I’d see it.”
Ethan grinned, then ran his hand through his hair.
I’d been waiting for him to start walking toward the car—we only had about twenty-five minutes left—but he hadn’t yet.
Maybe he was waiting for a few more people to clear out of the parking lot?
The air was beginning to chill, but I couldn’t bring myself to suggest we go back yet.
Out of nowhere, he asked, “What’s your favorite movie?”
“Oh, that’s like asking what a musician’s favorite song is…” I hummed as Ethan came to stand beside me, leaning against the railing that separated the walkway from the now smooth fountain pool.
“Everyone knows that when you pick a favorite movie, it is forever, and there are no takebacks. Whatever you choose, it’s more serious than going to college or getting married.” Nudging me playfully with his shoulder, he added, “You can’t change your answer. Choose wisely.”
I huffed. “Okay. Maybe Seven Samurai?”
Ethan opened his mouth to say something, when I changed my mind. Holding up a hand, I said, “No. I take that back. His Girl Friday.”
“I don’t know what either of those—”
“Ethan?”
Ethan’s gaze shot over my shoulder, and the color drained from his face.
I turned, then caught sight of Emmie. This close, she was maybe even a little prettier than she’d appeared from far away.
My heart sank. If this girl was Ethan’s type—tall, short hair, trendy—I was absolutely not.
Not that I wanted to be. Nittha’s romantic daydreams were rubbing off on me.
Pushing the thought aside, my head swiveled from Ethan to Emmie as an uncomfortable silence settled between them.
Emmie rocked back and forth on her heels for a second before saying, “Am I interrupting? I can go.”
I got the distinct impression that while she didn’t want to leave, Emmie was being sincere about her willingness to go if Ethan or I asked her to.
Something about the question seemed to jar Ethan into responding. “We were just talking about movies. Do you know Jamie?”
“Uh, no. Hi, nice to meet you.” Emmie waved in a short jerky movement, which came off about as awkward as I felt.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I said, smiling and pulling my shoulders back to invoke an extra measure of confidence.
I had low-key resented wearing braces for five years, but right now, I was extra grateful for every cent my parents spent on my orthodontia.
Sure, the drive over to the fountain left my hair looking like someone had stuck me in a wind tunnel, but at least I had my smile going for me.
Silence stretched between the three of us again.
Emmie seemed like she wanted to say something but couldn’t decide if she should do it in front of me.
Ethan seemed like he wanted a meteor to fall from the sky and crush him.
Attempting to break the ice, I turned to Emmie.
“I’ve seen you at TrendCon. What kind of videos do you make? ”
“Mostly book reviews with a side of lifestyle stuff,” Emmie said, her voice sounding like she was torn between being grateful for the assist and wishing that I would drop off the face of the earth. To Ethan, she said, “What are you doing here?”
“We’re working on a video.” Ethan’s words were clipped, as if giving her information was costing him dearly. “What are you doing here?”
“Mall,” Emmie said, as if there weren’t a mall in every casino. Side-eyeing me, she added, “Ethan, maybe we could get coffee sometime and finish talking about the thing we were discussing at the pool party?”
Cryptic much? My Spidey senses tingled. What were they talking about? It had to be important if she was willing to exchange coded words about it in front of me, a literal stranger. Emmie stared at him, her face equal parts unsure and hopeful as she playfully batted her eyelashes.
“Uhm, I have to check my schedule. I’m kind of busy with my grandma and filming and…” Ethan’s voice trailed off as he rubbed the back of his head.
“It doesn’t have to take long. Maybe we could eat and talk? Like we could get dinner while…”
I stopped hearing what Emmie was saying as Ethan’s entire demeanor sank, like strings were attached to the back of his neck, pulling him toward the ground.
I couldn’t watch this. Not because I cared, I reasoned with myself, but because the guy had bought me a snack.
Anyone who would feed me didn’t deserve whatever emotional cajoling was happening here.
“Oh my gosh!” I drew in a sharp, dramatic breath and snatched Ethan’s wrist up. Squinting at the face of his watch, I feigned terror. “Ethan, we gotta take the car back. Now.”
“What?” Ethan sounded confused, as if this whole interaction had mentally sapped all his energy.
“The car. We need to take it back to your friend ASAP. Like, we should probably run to the parking lot.” I nodded, making my eyes as wide as possible to signal that if he wanted help, he should play along.
His eyes locked on to mine for a second. “Oh, shit. I forgot about the car.” He said to Emmie, “So sorry. I told Heidi I’d have her car back by nine, and you know how she is.”
Emmie looked like she had no idea who Heidi was and didn’t really care about her cars at all, but she recovered quickly enough. Offering us a half-hearted smile, she said, “Of course. Talk to you soon. Nice to meet you, Jamie.”
“You too,” I said. Ethan and I both started speed walking toward the car. I slid into the passenger’s side. Ethan waited until I had figured out my seat belt, then said, “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” I bit down on my bottom lip. I didn’t want to make him feel worse about whatever was going on by asking questions, but I also wanted to know what I’d interrupted.
Before I could decide what to do, Ethan turned to face the steering wheel and started the car.
“Three Little Birds” blared through the speakers, which typically would have been funny, but neither of us was in the mood for jokes.
On the ride home, I kept sneaking glances at him, watching for any sign that he wanted to talk about what was bothering him.
Instead, he remained stone-faced, the wind pushing his hair around as he drove.
It struck me as ironic that I’d spent so much time wishing he wouldn’t talk to me.
Now I’d give anything for us to keep talking.