Chapter 4
Chapter Four
L ily
Noah: We need to talk. I’m coming over after your art class. You better be there.
I groan as I shove my phone into my messenger bag. “We need to talk” means “I’m going to scold you” in Noah’s language.
I don’t need this now, especially when this isn’t even the worst text I received today. I got another one from Mason. Repeating his request to meet with me.
Sure, Mason. Let’s go get a round of beers and reminisce about the night you…
My throat grows tight. I hate even thinking about it.
Anyway, I ghosted him as usual. If he wants to meet with me, it’s probably only to repeat his threat that I can never tell anyone what I accused him of that morning.
When I make it to the steps of the sorority house, I halt, giving myself a moment before I go inside. I’m too fucking weary for this talk with my brother. I already know that my grades are bad. Extra pressure from Noah will only stress me out more.
After a few moments, I finally ascend the steps and walk inside. Two of my sorority sisters are standing in the living room. They turn to me with smiles on their faces. “Your brother’s here,” Ava says.
Lorelai grins. “With Ethan Harrington.”
Anxiety prickles my skin, making me unable to tease Lorelai about her giddiness over Ethan. My sorority sisters are in awe of him—like he’s a movie star—and I usually point out the absurdity of worshiping someone so self-righteous and boring.
I can’t think of a single sassy thing to say. My head is swimming. Why the hell is Ethan here?
“Where are they?” I ask.
“I think they went to your room,” Ava says. “Lorelai and I tried to make conversation, but Ethan wasn’t having it.” She wrinkles her nose. “I think he’s in a grumpy mood.”
“He’s always like that,” I say.
“Try to get them to come out here.” Lorelai says. “I don’t care if Ethan’s grumpy. I’m getting a picture with him and sending it to my brother. He’s a huge college football fan.” She smiles mischievously. “I’m going to tell him I’m besties with Mr. Number Forty-Four.”
When both girls laugh, I force a smile. My heart is pounding in my chest as I turn around and walk down the hallway.
Is it possible that Ethan told Noah about the kiss? It would be an incredibly strange thing to do, given that it’s none of Noah’s damn business, and Ethan specifically asked me not to tell him anything. But then again…
Ethan’s strict morality makes him a strange guy. Maybe he had a change of heart about keeping the kiss a secret. I can’t imagine it sits well with him to hide something from his best friend—especially when he knows it would piss Noah off.
The last time Noah came over to have a talk with me was months ago. It was when Mason first started pursuing me. Noah told me that his teammates were off-limits, that it could wreak havoc on their team dynamics if I got involved with one of them.
No matter how misogynistic and self-centered the request was, I wish I had listened.
When I make it to my bedroom door, it’s ajar. I push it open and find Noah sitting at my desk and Ethan standing by my dresser and staring at my painting of my childhood dog, Barkley, that hovers above it.
“What is this about?” I ask, too irritated for greetings.
Noah lets a long sigh. “I had a talk with Mom and Dad over the weekend. We’re all worried about your grades.”
My stomach drops. I suspected this, but somehow the prospect of it feels even worse than being scolded for kissing his best friend. Does Noah think a lecture from him—on behalf of Mom and Dad—is going to motivate me to work harder?
“This is your second quarter on academic probation,” Noah says. “If you don’t turn this around, you could be kicked out of school by the end of the year. You only have one year left, Lily. You’d be throwing away almost three years of hard work and tuition.”
My heart is in my throat. Does he think I don’t know this?
“And why is Ethan here?” I ask.
Ethan looks at me for the first time since I walked into the room, his eyes unusually bright, emitting warmth that seems to reach across the space and wrap around me. “Did you paint this?” he asks, gesturing at Barkley’s panting face.
I frown at the non-sequitur question. “No, I paid for a mediocre painting of a random golden retriever and hung it on my bedroom wall.”
His lips quirk. “It’s not mediocre. In fact, it’s really good. It looks so…” He turns back to the painting. “It looks real.”
Warmth washes over me at his compliment, even though the painting is pretty tepid for a student in her junior year of a Fine Arts program. Real is easy. Depth of feeling is what most art students find elusive.
Who cares about any of that? I need to know why the hell Noah invited Ethan to take part in a discussion about my falling grades.
“We’ve come up with a plan to help you,” Noah says.
My head jerks in his direction. “My grades are none of your?—”
“I need you to listen.” Noah lifts a hand. “You can argue later. Your grades might not be my business, but they are Mom and Dad’s. They pay your tuition.”
I grit my teeth. How dare he team up with Mom and Dad to ambush me. He should be on my side. He’s complained enough over the years about how often Mom and Dad have used their financial support to manipulate us. They wouldn’t even let me major in art without a business administration minor—what they call a practical plan B for if the whole “art thing” doesn’t pan out. Noah constantly complains about how often they remind him to make his studies a priority over football. That his chances of making it to the NFL are slim to none.
“What is your plan?” I ask, wanting to get this conversation over with.
Noah stares at me for a beat. “I asked Ethan to become your accountability partner. He’s willing to meet up with you to help you figure out?—”
“Absolutely not,” I say immediately, my hackles rising. “I don’t need an accountability partner. I just need a little more time to turn my grades around.”
Noah crosses his arms over his chest. “Whatever you’re doing isn’t working.”
My lips close. Goddamn him. I want to say something cutting, but I can’t when I know his bossiness is only coming from a place of fear. He’s asked me multiple times over the last several months if I’m doing okay. I’ve withdrawn from him since everything went down with Mason. I used to visit his apartment regularly, but I can’t do it now. I’ll be damned if I let Mason see how much his presence affects me.
And if I’m truly honest with myself, I’m afraid of him.
I haven’t been able to reason away the buzzing that starts in my head—the heart palpitations and clammy hands—the handful of times I’ve seen him since everything happened.
None of it is Noah’s fault. If he knew what Mason did, he’d move out of that apartment in a heartbeat. Hell, he’d probably even push me to go to the cops, which I’d never do.
Even knowing all that doesn’t make me resent Noah any less. Somehow, his close proximity to Mason feels like a betrayal. It’s irrational, but I can’t make the feeling go away. Just like how I can’t stop myself from ruminating on the events of that night and wishing I made different choices.
I narrow my eyes on Noah’s face. “It was an invasion of my privacy to bring Ethan into this. He already told me he knows all about my academic struggles. You had no right to say anything.”
Noah opens his mouth to speak, but Ethan talks over him. “She’s right.” His tone is firm. “You should have asked her permission before you brought me into this.”
Noah’s eyes grow huge, and I can’t stop my jaw from falling open. I place my hands on my hips as I turn to Ethan. “What the hell is this? You’re on my side?”
Ethan stands up straighter. “On this subject at least. He shouldn’t have asked me to be your accountability partner without getting you on board first. Still…” He squares his broad shoulders. “I agree with him that you need help. Whatever you’re doing now isn’t working.”
Anger flames in my chest, and I raise my chin. “I can’t focus at all lately. I don’t see how you’re going to fix that. Do you plan to do my goddamn work for me?”
I expected to annoy him, but his expression has grown…soft somehow. He tilts his head as he studies me. “Why can’t you focus? What’s changed recently?”
My heart jumps into my throat. Somehow it feels like he can see inside my mind. That he knows what happened with Mason.
That’s crazy. Mason wouldn’t have told a soul what happened.
He denied that anything happened at all. And he threatened that if I ever shared what didn’t happen, he’d send his family lawyer after me for defamation.
The chances of him succeeding with a claim like that are remote. I’ve done my research. Still, it would bring scrutiny onto me that I’m not ready to deal with.
I just want to forget everything, to go back to the girl I used to be.
“It doesn’t matter why you can’t focus,” Noah says. “Because Ethan’s going to help you do exactly that. Each week, you’ll meet up and figure out a game plan. The next week, you’ll review what worked and what didn’t.” He smiles. “He’ll be just like a coach.”
I roll my eyes. “You mean he’ll be my parole officer.”
“I won’t be your parole officer,” Ethan cuts in. “I’ll let you set the pace. You tell me how you want things to go, and I’ll listen.”
I snort. “Listening isn’t one of your finer qualities, Ethan.”
Ethan’s eyes fill with an emotion I can’t quite pinpoint. Is he hurt that I think he’s a bad listener? Strange. I’ve said much meaner things to him in the past. Hell, two nights ago I called him a joy vacuum, and he laughed.
“I want you to start logging your activities,” Noah says. “It’s a great time-management hack. You can see how you spend your time and decide if there are better ways to utilize it.”
I release an unsteady breath. “Who gets to decide the best way to utilize my time, Ethan or me?”
“You,” Ethan answers right away. “You’re the ultimate judge. I’ll just be there to help you brainstorm. You’re in charge, Lily. I know you think I boss you around, that I’m not good at listening… I won’t be like that. I promise.”
“Brace yourself,” I say. “I don’t think it will be easy for you.”
Ethan’s eyes twinkle. “I’ve survived your viciousness for over two years now. After that, I can handle anything.”
My breath catches slightly, and my heart gives an unexpected flutter. When did Ethan start matching my energy and teasing me back? I shouldn’t be warmed by it. He’s probably just trying to manipulate me. To get me to agree to this stupid plan for Noah’s sake.
“We both have your best interests at heart,” Noah says. “You might feel like I’m being a dick with all this, but I’m doing it because I’m worried about you.”
My cheeks suffuse with heat. Worried. I hate that word so much. It’s so fucking condescending. I don’t want anyone’s useless worry. What I want is to fix my stupid sleep and grades and forget about Mason forever.
I ought to tell both Noah and Ethan to go to hell, but is that what the old Lily would do? I don’t think so. She’d probably go along with this plan and use it as an opportunity to antagonize Ethan, her favorite thing to do.
A pleasant thrill runs down my spine. It could be fun to meet up with Ethan every week and tease him incessantly.
I shoot Ethan a lazy smile. “When do we start?”
Ethan’s eyes flicker with confusion and then settle on my mouth. Shit, this is weird. It’s the same look he gave me right before that kiss.
“You’ll need to give it a few days,” Noah says, and the hungry look on Ethan’s face vanishes in a flash.
“Lily needs to start collecting data on her daily habits.” Noah’s expression grows stern. “Make a spreadsheet and write down every single thing you do in a day and how much time it takes. I do mean every single activity. Believe me, it works. Even just collecting the data will make you more productive.”
I groan. “Oh my God, that sounds like torture.”
“If that sounds like torture, you must not be doing any work at all.” Noah’s tone is biting. “It’s not that hard to log your activities. It takes seconds.”
He only says that because he doesn’t have ADHD. He wasn’t cursed with the inability to focus on anything that isn’t remotely interesting.
My biggest problem is that hardly anything interests me at all anymore, outside of the few hours a week I have alone with my paints, canvases, and brushes.
“Noah, she doesn’t need this right now,” Ethan says. “Lily, if logging your activities doesn’t work, we’ll nix it. It’s just a strategy to try. Like I said before, you’re in charge. I’ll work with you.”
A comforting glow spreads through me. I ought to find his coddling condescending, but it’s so difficult when he’s staring at me with such a warm expression. Ethan is usually all hard edges and firm commands.
“How about we meet in three days?” Ethan says. “You can come next door when I’m done with practice. Six o’clock.”
I smile mischievously. “I’ll be there.”
And I’m going to make Ethan wish he never agreed to this.