Chapter Twelve #2
Too late, it dawned on me that saying for tonight made it sound like I thought it was a date.
Which I clearly knew it wasn’t. And I didn’t need him thinking I was desperate.
The adrenaline in my system was slowly working its way out of my nerves and doing me exactly zero favors on the way.
Good god, get it together, Jamie. Gesturing toward the pool, I added, “For the DJ party. So we’d blend in.
But we won’t blend in anymore, and I kind of can’t see anything, so I was trying to text you not to meet me right now.
I don’t even know how to remove all this. ”
Ethan’s face lit up as if he was finally connecting the dots around what I was trying to say, which was great, because I certainly didn’t know where I was going anymore. “I think I know how to get that off you.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, his hair falling into his eyes. Using one hand to push it away from his face, he added, “I think my grandma should have what we need, and she shouldn’t be back in the room yet.”
“Okay.” I nodded. As we started walking toward the elevator bank, I could feel Ethan’s eyes on me. Glancing up at him through my eyelashes, I asked, “What?”
“Nothing,” Ethan said, guilt crossing his face as he suddenly became very interested in all the pinging noises the slot machines around us were making.
“And yet, your face says it’s not nothing,” I prodded as we reached the elevators. “Tell me.”
“I was trying to figure out how I was going to avoid getting glitter all over my grandma’s room.” Ethan smirked and hit the button to call the elevator.
“Oh.” I glanced down at my arms, which had also been dusted in Sterling’s signature body glitter and laughed. “I’m not sure that is gonna be possible.”
“That was my conclusion, too,” Ethan said, gesturing for me to step into an elevator as it opened up. Someone wearing a TrendCon lanyard got in with us. Giving me a once-over, they stepped as far to the opposite side of the elevator as they could get.
As soon as we got out of the elevator, we both doubled over laughing.
“That amount of glitter is repellent to everyone other than me.” Ethan grinned, steering us down a hallway that was so long it made me dizzy. “I’ll have you stand in the bathroom and hope for the best.”
“Really?” I said, trying to make my words sound innocent. “You don’t want me to sit on your bed and rub my face all over your pillows?”
“Not like that I don’t,” Ethan said under his breath as he unlocked the door.
“Because you’d want me there otherwise?” I deadpanned.
“I…” Ethan’s jaw dropped, and his cheeks turned bright red as he realized what it sounded like he was implying. “That isn’t what…I don’t…”
“Sure. Sure,” I teased. “Tell me you think I’m a bridge troll without telling me you think I’m a bridge troll.”
“No. You’re not—” Ethan sputtered.
“Don’t make it worse.” I arched an eyebrow and folded my arms.
“I mean, if you were—”
“Please, don’t explain.” I smirked as the flush in his cheeks deepened. Something about watching Ethan’s usually unshakeable chill be, well, shaken, was amusing. “Really, there is no way to recover at this point.”
“You sure?” Ethan winced, rubbing the back of his head in that way he did when he wasn’t sure exactly what to do with something I’d said.
“Positive.” I snorted, leaning on the wall next to the door and watching him.
“Because I could keep digging.” Ethan’s laugh held a touch of nerves as he dropped his hand and eyed me. “Maybe my grave isn’t deep enough?”
“If you dig any deeper, you’ll hit sewer pipes.” I shook my head and caught bits of purple tinsel flashing in the bright hallway lights. “Put down the shovel.”
“In that case, come in,” Ethan said, intentionally stilting his speech so the staccato of his words could convey how awkward he felt.
“Now that I know you really don’t want me here, I will.” I turned to face him as he closed the door, then surveyed the room.
The layout was nearly identical to the room I was sharing with BamBam, but it felt completely different.
For one, it was much neater than I’d expected.
He and Buzzy had stored their suitcases upright in the little closet cubby, like they’d unpacked and actually put things away in the dressers that I’d always assumed were for show in hotels.
The shared nightstand clearly delineated whose side of the room was whose.
The bed closest to the window had to be Ethan’s, since there was a vintage-car magazine sitting on that bed’s side.
On the bed itself was a small, bedraggled stuffie that might have once been a sheep or a cat; it wasn’t really clear which anymore.
“For the record, I never called you a bridge troll,” Ethan said, stepping around me and walking toward Buzzy’s nightstand. He opened a drawer and took out a jar of Vaseline.
“I’m pretty sure it was implied, given the situation.” I snickered.
Ethan followed my gaze to the bed. Frowning slightly at the stuffie, he said, “That isn’t mine. It’s Sophie’s.”
“I totally believe you.” I grinned. “Anything else you want to lie about?”
“Ah, you are impossible.” Ethan waved a hand at me, biting down on his bottom lip. He gestured with his head toward the bathroom. “Let’s do this in here. That way the maids can hose down the whole room if they need to.”
Ethan switched on the light and stepped into the cramped bathroom. He opened a large case sitting on one side of the sink and began digging around for something. Noticing me hovering in the doorway, he patted a space on the counter. “Can you sit here?”
“Okay.” The air in the bathroom felt still as I slipped behind him, doing my best not to brush against his body in the crowded space.
I’d never been this alone with Ethan before.
This close to him, with no distractions, I could see that his hair was starting to curl at the base of his neck.
My fingers itched to trace the uneven edge of his hairline and feel the soft skin there.
I clasped my hands together to keep from trying to touch anything I wasn’t supposed to.
“It’s easier if you are at eye level,” he explained over his shoulder. The sound of his voice, gentle against the whir of the bathroom fan, pulled my attention away from his hair.
“Right.” I exhaled shakily. I needed to pull it together.
Even if I did have a tiny crush on him, I was literally covered in glitter.
Worse, we were in a cramped hotel bathroom.
In action movies, any romantic moments in a hotel bathroom were because someone needed to have a bullet fished out of them.
If that happened to either of us, it would be because one of our grandmas put it there.
After lifting myself onto the clear side of the counter, I crossed my ankles, letting my legs dangle as I watched him.
Ethan began setting things on the surface, making sure they were all neatly lined up and visible as if he were arranging the different tools that he would need to work on a car.
I’d seen him do this in his videos, but watching him do it for me felt more intimate. Like he was letting me see a secret.
“Ready?” Ethan turned to me, holding a cotton round covered in Vaseline.
Nerves washed over me, and I nodded once.
He stepped toward me. For a second, he just studied me, his brows knitted together in concentration, then relaxed.
He set the cotton round down, then backed away, mumbling, “Actually. Hair tie.”
I exhaled and tried to force myself to relax as he moved back to the case. Why did I feel so nervous? Less than twenty minutes ago, I’d had my makeup done in front of one hundred people. Surely I could have it removed by one person.
Ethan pulled out a fuzzy purple scrunchie with a big bow attached to it. Stepping back toward me, he held up the hair tie and said, “May I?”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded. Ethan slowly reached for my hair, and I held my breath.
I wasn’t accustomed to letting just anyone touch my hair, and not totally sure what to expect.
Maybe something quick and perfunctory. That wasn’t this.
His touch was gentle, almost reverent. As he gathered the strands together into a ponytail, his fingers brushed against the nape of my neck, sending a tingle of pleasure across my skin.
My scalp had that delicious stinging sensation as he worked his fingers loosely through my hair to brush it away from my face.
“That’s better.” I felt him pull my hair through the scrunchie; then he stepped back in front of me and smiled. I held my breath and closed my eyes, hoping to hide how much I was enjoying his touch and how disappointed I was to lose it.
I cleared my throat and reached for something to say. Anything to help me forget the feel of his hand on the sensitive part of my neck. Opening my eyes, I said, “So, where’d you learn to do this?”
The brightness in Ethan’s expression flickered, like someone had tried to dim the light in his smile.
Belatedly, I remembered Emmie. She was always so put together.
I had to be the densest person on earth.
Of course he would have learned to do this from her.
And of course he wouldn’t want to talk about it.
Rushing to give him an out from my big, stupid mouth, I added, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.
We could talk about why you have Sophie’s stuffie, if you’d like. ”
“It’s okay.” He picked up the cotton round and avoided my gaze.
“A little bit of everywhere. Emmie, mainly. But, around the time that we were together, Izzie got into makeup, so part of it was my sister talking about it, wanting to show me stuff. She’s in that phase where she doesn’t really want a big brother right now, so I kind of take what I can get from her.
It’s clear she thought I was cooler when I was still dating Emmie, so she is back to ignoring me again.
But Sophie still likes me so there is that. ”