Chapter 12
TWELVE
COLLETTE
Thankfully, Olivia didn’t pepper me with questions when I met her at my car after I ran full speed away from Ethan. She remained quiet as I drove her home even though I had tears running down my cheeks.
As I idled next to the dormitory, she turned and gave me a hug.
“Love you, Collette,” she said as she pulled back and shot me a quick smile.
I nodded and blew out my breath. “I’ll tell you tomorrow,” I said as I stifled a sob.
Olivia nodded. “I know you will. When you’re ready, I’m here.”
I shot her a thankful smile and she saluted me as she grabbed the door handle and stepped out. I waited for her to walk into the dorm before I pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic.
Mom was asleep when I got home. I tiptoed through the kitchen. I didn’t want to wake her up. Mom and I didn’t have the strongest relationship, but I feared if she saw me crying, she’d ask way.
And I didn’t want to tell her.
She knew nothing of Ethan and I wanted to keep it that way.
I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge as I passed by. Crying made me thirsty and I was pretty sure I wasn’t finished for the night. Just as I stepped back to shut the fridge door, something caught my eye.
An invitation. To Ethan’s dad’s fundraiser.
I glowered at it. Mr. Morrison definitely left an impression on you.
There was no way I was going to that. Not after the way he treated Ethan.
Even though I was a mess when it came to my relationship with Ethan, I did have loyalties and out of spite, I wasn’t going to give Mr. Morrison the time of day.
My heart ached so I pushed the idea of the party from my mind. It only led to frustration as I thought of Ethan’s decision that his father’s bidding was more important than following his dream.
Once I got into my room, I shut the door quietly and flopped onto my bed.
I let my sobs and tears soak into my comforter as I thought back to Ethan and our fight.
The things he said, the things I said. They were real and painful.
I didn’t mean to make him feel bad, but he had to know the truth.
He was more than what his dad thought he was.
And then there was that kiss. I’d been blown away by the electricity that raced between us. It was like touching a live wire. Scary yet mesmerizing.
I reached up and touched my lips. I could still feel his lips pressed against mine. I could still feel the way he’d pressed against every part of my body—my body that I’d hated for so long. He’d touched me like he didn’t care. He’d touched me like he wanted to feel me.
And that scared me. More than anything I’d ever felt before.
How could he love me when I couldn’t even love myself?
I sighed as I flipped to my back and draped my arm over my eyes.
“He can’t,” I whispered into the darkness.
Ethan didn’t know what he was doing when he kissed me. When he told me I was amazing. He didn’t know what was hiding underneath all of my layers. He’d been blinded by his excitement to play guitar at the studio that he didn’t see what was so plainly displayed in front of him.
I wasn’t the cheerleader I’d seen hugging him. I wasn’t Bianca. I wasn’t even a ballerina.
I was a wannabe who would never be able to perform. I was a fool who thought that dancing in the shadows meant I was born to be a dancer.
Obviously, I wasn’t born to be anything, let alone a ballerina. Fate kept telling me that over and over again, yet I was too dense to listen.
My phone chimed. I pulled my arm down and stared up at the ceiling.
It was probably Olivia, checking in on me.
She was worried, no doubt. I would be too if I were her.
I’d never been much of a crier but tonight I’d more than made up for it.
If I didn’t answer, she’d probably break the dorm curfew to come over here.
Which meant, she’d get in trouble and I’d have to explain to my mom why my eyes were bloodshot and my comforter was soggy.
I reached down and pulled my phone from my hoodie pocket. I clicked it on and my heart stopped beating.
It was a text from Ethan.
I swallowed a few times, trying to calm my nerves. All I could read was the first line of the text that read, “I’m sorry.”
After that, I’d need to access the text to read the rest.
Did I want to read it?
What if he was texting to say, “I’m sorry. I should have never kissed you” or worse…what if he was texting to say goodbye?
Was that something I wanted to read?
I took in a shuddering breath as I tried to calm my mind. If that was what he’d written, I’d be fine with it. After all, our relationship was doomed to end at some point. Who cared if it happened right now?
If anything, he was doing me a favor.
So I put on my big girl panties and typed in my password and clicked on the text.
Ethan: I’m sorry. I should have never kissed you when you weren’t ready. I was confused and angry. Can you forgive me?
I stared at his words. My eyes had seen them, but my brain couldn’t process what he’d said. Nowhere in the text was the word mistake I should have never even met you, I was an idiot, or ewwwww (yes, with that many w’s.)
He was just sorry that he pushed me. That was all.
Tears clung to my eyelids as I stared at the screen. Ethan was an incredible guy. Too bad I didn’t deserve him. If I were going to cast anyone as the Ron to my Hermione, it would be Ethan.
Ethan: I know I let you down. Back there with my dad. I’m sorry about that too.
Guilt swept over me so quickly it hurt. I gripped the phone harder, my heart aching over everything I’d said to him—the judgy tone, the harsh accusations—and everything he hadn’t said.
He could have called me a hypocrite. He could have pointed out that I was the coward who was hiding away in a studio after dark because I couldn’t face my mother.
But he didn’t say any of that because he was too nice for his own good.
Yale is my future, Juilliard is yours.
He still didn’t get it. The guy still believed that I could overcome all the odds and become a successful ballerina. Right now I didn’t know if that belief in me was insanely sweet or ridiculously naive, but I did know that I shouldn’t have punished him for it.
My phone chimed again before I could respond.
Ethan: You’re probably asleep, so I’ll stop harassing you. I’m just worried I ruined everything. Please text me back when you get this.
And then a few seconds later another text came in.
Ethan: I can’t lose you as a friend.
Friend. I swallowed as my emotions threatened to suffocate me. He wanted me as his friend. I’d known as much, but seeing it spelled out was the reality check I’d needed.
He wanted to forget that kiss and go back to being friends, that much was clear. Not a surprise, really. But what did I want? I didn’t want to be his friend—or at least, not just his friend. It was time I just admitted that to myself.
But the thought that it could be more? That he could honestly want more? That was too hard to swallow. It was a daydream, just like Juilliard. The truth was, he could have any girl he wanted. He’d kissed me, yes, but he’d said himself that he’d been confused.
I stared at the phone, trying to figure out what I should say, but in the end, it was a no-brainer.
I can’t lose you as a friend. His words made me want to cry all over again.
I may have wanted more, but I also loved what we had.
I didn’t want to lose him as a friend, either.
He mattered way too much to me even if Ethette (I may have come up with a celebrity name for us) wasn’t meant to be.
I took a deep breath and started to type.
Me: I forgive you. Truce?
I held my breath as the three dots began to dance.
Ethan: Truce. Meet you at the studio on Monday?
I sent him a GIF of a man saluting.
He sent back a laughing emoji.
I curled onto my side as I set my phone down next to me. Sure, I had major hangups and sure, I was an emotional basket case. But I still had my friend and that was all that mattered.
My phone chimed and I picked it back up.
Ethan: Can I ask you something?
Me: Sure
I waited, feeling a little nervous about what he was going to ask me.
Ethan: Don’t take this the wrong way, but was that your first kiss?
I almost choked on my tongue as I moved to sit up. How was I supposed to respond to that? I didn’t want to seem like a loser, but then again, if he was asking, then he knew the answer. Which meant it had been bad.
Realizing that if I lied, it meant more than I wanted it to, I decided to be honest.
Me: Yes
I held my breath as I waited for him to respond.
Ethan: Huh.
What did that mean? I closed my eyes as I rubbed my temples. This wasn’t good. Oh, this wasn’t good.
Me: Was it that obvious?
Ethan: What? No. Just…nothing. Forget I asked.
Oh no, now it was on. He couldn’t just ask me something like that and then end the conversation. If he was my friend and we were going to try to make this work as friends, he needed to be honest with me.
Me: This is not fair. You can’t just leave me hanging like that.
The dancing dots mocked me as they appeared and then disappeared more times than I could count. It left me to imagine what he could possibly be struggling to say. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.
Me: Ethan, you’re scaring me
Thankfully, his next response came faster than his previous ones.
Ethan: Oh, sorry. It wasn’t bad.
Now I was completely confused. Was he saying my kiss wasn’t bad? What did that mean?
Me: You know how to give a girl a complex.
Ethan: I don’t want to do that, so let me start over. Your kiss was good. I was just surprised when you said it was your first.
My cheeks warmed as I read his last sentence. I blinked a few times as I tried to process what he said. Sure, our kiss had been a mistake, but it wasn’t because I was a bad kisser.