Chapter Fifteen #2
The memory of his pained expression while talking to Emmie returned, and I winced. “I’m guessing the internet made the breakup with Emmie worse, then?”
“Dating someone with that level of fame is hard. I thought I knew what it was like to have strangers reaching out to me or following me, because of my grandma, but Emmie was next-level. People who didn’t even like cars became interested in me because of her, but we were also trapped.
When you’re fifteen, you don’t really think about what it means to publicly date someone.
You just put someone on your grid and then taking them off becomes impossible, because you aren’t just breaking up with them, you are breaking up with their fans in a way, too.
If I’m honest, I think that relationship was over before either of us were ready to admit it.
She just moved on before telling anybody, including me. ”
“Oh.” My mouth dropped open. It wasn’t that I didn’t know the story, but somehow, I hadn’t expected him to say it so plainly.
“Your face.” Ethan stole a glance at me and then cracked up before laying on the gas a little more.
“Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t funny at the time, but I can joke about it now.
With you. I can’t joke about it publicly.
That would cause all kinds of problems.” Ethan rolled his eyes, and I imagined what kind of comments he would get tagged in if Emmie’s legion of fans saw it.
“You know, you are one of the few people I don’t have to worry about sharing any of these details on the internet. ”
“Perks of having a social-media-free friend.” I grinned over at him as he exited the highway.
“Perks of having a friend you trust,” Ethan said, watching my reaction out of the corner of his eye. My heart skipped a beat as the weight of what he’d said sank in. He trusted me. Not because I had no way to share his secrets, but because he didn’t think I’d hurt him. I hoped that was true.
“What do you want to do instead? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“To be honest, I really don’t know,” Ethan said, after a moment of silence. “I stopped posting regularly. So now, when I share it’s because it’s a thing I’m excited about and want to teach people. My sister Stephanie is an ESL teacher, so maybe I’d like that, too?”
“I could see you being good at that.” I nodded, thinking about the way he talked to the camera, earnest and patient. Like he understood that cars could be daunting, but he had faith in your ability to figure out the whole headlight-changing thing.
“So, does Emmie know you don’t want to do this forever? I feel like if she did, she’d probably give up on you two getting back together.”
“She does. But she also has a different level of fame than I do. I can go back to being known only in internet car circles. At least, I hope I can.” Ethan frowned, then added, “Emmie has a brand to protect, sponsorships and deals to lose. It’s her livelihood, and she’s trying to figure out how to make everyone happy with her again. ”
“Oh.” When he explained it like that, I could understand her better.
I lived with tremendous pressure trying to make two demanding parents happy.
I couldn’t imagine what it was like to try to please millions of people.
“So, what does she want? For the two of you to get back together, or pretend you’re still dating? ”
Ethan snorted as we slowed, waiting for a red light to turn at the entrance to the park. “I’m pretty sure she has given up on that.”
“Why?”
He glanced over at me like he was surprised I would ask that question. For a moment, he didn’t say anything; he only scanned my face. Looking at me intentionally, he held my gaze and said, “Because I’m interested in someone else.”
If it was possible to have a heart both stop and beat so hard that it might come out of a chest, mine was trying to do that.
Ethan watched me, his expression shifting from playful to something with heat in it.
It was the kind of look that made me want to grab onto him.
To run my fingers through his hair. Feel his skin against mine.
My breathing felt shallow as my imagination ran wild.
I tried to make myself say something. Confirm that this new person was me.
Instead, the light changed, and he refocused on the road. “We need driving music before we lose reception.”
“Okay,” I mumbled as my thoughts smoldered into a useless pile.
I wondered if I’d ever recover from his look.
Or if I’d melt into a puddle of wanting on the floor mat if he even so much as blinked at me again.
I watched as he pressed a button on the steering wheel, imagining his hand on my thigh instead of the car…
Then cheesy music filled the air, the spell broken by a man singing about walking around in his sleep.
“What is this?” I laughed. “And why are we listening to it?”
“It’s ‘River of Dreams,’ ” Ethan said. When that didn’t elicit a response, he added, “Billy Joel.” When that failed to mean something to me as well, his eyes went wide. “You know, the Piano Man. You don’t know any of the good music, do you?”
“This song is older than we are, isn’t it?” I rolled my eyes.
“Yes. By several decades. Like the eighties or nineties, I think.” Ethan started laughing as we pulled up to a little hut with a park ranger in it. He turned down the Piano Man and opened his window, taking a map from the friendly-looking ranger, who rattled off the park rules.
Falling in line behind the other cars driving through the park on the one-lane road, he turned the song back up and started howling along like we were at karaoke.
“Why is this your driving music?” I asked as soon as the song started to fade.
“It’s what my dad listens to at the garage.”
“Music from the eighties?” I did a little math, then peeked over at Ethan. “Wait, my parents listen to two thousands hip-hop. How old is your dad?”
“Sixty-five. Second family, remember?” He gestured to his chest before putting his hand back on the gearshift.
“I remembered. I just didn’t put together that he was that much older when he had you. Isn’t your grandma sixty-nine?” I wrinkled my forehead and tried to imagine what it would be like if my mom and BamBam were the same age. That would not have worked in our house.
“Yup. It can get weird when the two of them geek out over the same generational stuff. Like they both saw the original Star Wars in theaters. Not together, obviously, but like they have the same memories about it. We sort of don’t talk about my parents’ age gap much,” Ethan said, then added, “Okay, well, my grandma sometimes talks about it in a shady way when she’s had two glasses of wine. ”
I snorted. “BamBam would do the same thing. She pretends to like my mom for my dad’s sake, but I’m pretty sure she would like her to go to Antarctica for all eternity.
At one point, after my grandpa died and she first moved in, she seized control of our kitchen and insisted on doing our hair before school.
There is a reason my parents built her an apartment above the house rather than giving her a suite in it. ”
“The kitchen and the morning routine? That’s diabolical.”
“It really was. My mom is not the kind of woman to appreciate someone making her look like she doesn’t know what she is doing.
Although, in BamBam’s defense, my mom really did not know what she was doing with our hair.
My hair isn’t as thick and my curls aren’t as tight as my brother’s and sister’s, but none of us could withstand washing it every other day like my mom.
BamBam staged a social intervention before we got teased off the playground.
” I shook my head as I remembered her coming into the room my sister and I shared with about a gallon of Pink Lotion, Blue Magic, and a wide-toothed comb, determined to get us together before we ended up “bald-headed.”
“That’s kind of what I like about having my grandma around.” Ethan smiled as we weaved our way up the canyon. “Stuff that my parents don’t get or freak out about, she usually has a different perspective on.”
“Right!” I hadn’t meant to get so excited, but this was a thing that my friends who didn’t live with their grandparents couldn’t understand.
“It’s like having an adult who can help you figure out your adults.
I don’t know what I’d do without BamBam.
I’d probably already have given up. I’d wear sweater sets and be a junior accountant in training. ”
Ethan wrinkled his nose at me as if I’d grown a second head. “I really can’t imagine you in a sweater set.”
“Oh, you don’t have to. Every year on picture day, my mom makes sure I’m in one. For last year’s Christmas card, I’m even wearing pearls.”
“No. You?” Ethan shook his head, like the mental image was as disturbing to him as it was to me in real life. “You don’t really wear jewelry, do you? That feels wrong.”
“It feels wrong because it is wrong.” I laughed. The golden hour had officially begun, bathing the angles of his face in a gentle orange glow as we wound past rust-red canyons and scrub brush.
I tried to be stealthy as I started filming him driving, the scenery flashing by.
Even if we didn’t use this footage for anything, I wanted to remember this moment.
Ethan in his element, singing along to music that was made for people decades older, in a car he loved.
It felt like I was getting to see another side of him.
Like I was seeing the Ethan that only close friends and family saw.
After a moment, he looked over at me and furrowed his brow. “Are you filming?”
“Yup. The lighting is perfect.” I bit down on my bottom lip to keep myself from saying any other thoughts out loud. Like that this moment with him was perfect.