Chapter 15 Margot #2
“Because I can tell from just a quick glance that there isn’t an interesting bone in that woman’s body.
She’s the sort of woman who counts shopping as a hobby and agrees with everything other people say because she doesn’t care about anything enough to form her own opinion.
You’re much more beautiful than that woman, but more importantly, you’re far more interesting than her. ”
While I appreciate his encouraging words, the doubt that’s etched all over my face can’t be avoided.
He continues, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “I bet she’s never even been to a pie contest, much less cheated her way to the grand prize.”
I lower my chin, breaking eye contact with Ethan and laughing quietly. To onlookers, we probably look like a couple having an intimate conversation rather than what we really are: a boss and his assistant on a practice date that suddenly isn’t going very well.
“And she probably hasn’t even considered what size of a penguin army would be required to overthrow the country of Ireland,” Ethan says, his face suddenly an inch or two closer to mine.
“That’s probably true,” I agree.
Ethan gives my hand a gentle squeeze. We both glance down at our intertwined fingers.
When we look up again, Ethan’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.
He looks like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if he should.
Curiosity and anticipation trip over each other inside my chest, but I don’t move a single muscle.
I know it’s wrong, but I like the feel of Ethan’s hand wrapped around mine, and I’m not particularly sad that Jeremy is here to witness it.
If it pisses him off, even better.
“I have an idea,” Ethan finally says. “But you’d really have to trust me.”
I’m not sure what Ethan’s idea is, but the heat in his eyes makes my pulse spike.
“I trust you.” I do trust Ethan, probably more than I trust anyone besides Emma. “What’s your idea?”
“Let me kiss you.”
A small, embarrassing gasp parts my lips. Ethan flashes a devilish smirk in response.
I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a squeak. I have no idea what to say. Do I really want to piss Jeremy off by doing this? Do I want to make him jealous?
More importantly, do I want to kiss Ethan?
My brain screams at me that this is a terrible idea, while other parts of me, lower parts of me shout out a resounding yes. For once, I decide to throw caution to the wind and listen to those parts.
“Okay,” I nod slowly.
If Ethan is remotely surprised by my answer, he doesn’t show it.
Instead, he moves closer to me, his knees coming forward to bracket mine.
The hand that isn’t holding mine moves to my hair, tucking a strand behind my ear as he stares into my eyes.
My pulse goes wild and my skin tingles with anticipation.
He’s convincing, I’ll give him that.
His face hovers inches from mine. Hazel eyes hold my gaze, filled with heat but also with reassurance.
His thumb lightly traces the line of my jaw, the touch melting away any last shred of doubt.
I want to kiss Ethan. The real question is: why do I want to kiss him so badly right now?
To get back at Jeremy, or just to see what it’s like to kiss Ethan North?
With his lips a hair’s breadth from mine, he mutters, “Ready?”
I give an imperceptible nod, and then his lips brush against mine, confident but gentle.
They linger on mine then slide down to capture my bottom lip between his, planting another slow, savoring kiss there.
The tenderness is unexpected, making my chest squeeze tight with a new appreciation for Ethan.
With all of his experience, I knew he would be a decent kisser, but I expected him to skip ahead to the part where he’s claiming my mouth. Instead, he lets the kiss build slowly.
When his lips nudge mine apart and his tongue glides across mine, a spark erupts low in my belly.
I’ve never been a fan of whiskey, but the taste of it on Ethan’s tongue changes my mind.
Suddenly, I’m ravenous for another taste.
Parting my lips a little wider for him, I swipe my tongue across his in a slow, devouring stroke.
The fingers at my jaw press a little firmer into my skin, pulling me even closer as our lips continue to explore each other.
This is fake, a tiny voice in my head reminds me as that little spark in my belly begins to spread. The way that Ethan’s mouth presses more firmly to mine feels like a solid counterargument to my silent commentary.
There should really be something to denote when a kiss is fake. Some fancy maneuver with one’s tongue that explicitly says this is only for show. Or maybe a lack of tongues entirely would be better suited as a reminder.
Well, too late for that now.
The slow, deep kiss continues, and the rest of the world seems to fall away. Everything goes quiet, the low music and chatter of the bar fading. It feels like there’s nothing at all but the taste of Ethan’s mouth on mine and the feeling of his hand cupping my jaw.
Then it’s ripped away abruptly by the sound of a familiar—and very angry—voice.
“Margot? What the fuck is going on?”
Ethan and I pull away, our heads turning in unison to the man standing next to us.
“Oh, hey Jeremy,” I say as if I didn’t even notice he was here. Truthfully, I’d completely forgotten that he was.
My eyes dart over to Ethan, hoping for a glimpse of his reaction to our kiss, wondering if he felt what I did. But whatever reaction he had to the kiss has been replaced by a seething glare aimed straight at my ex.
I have a lot of reasons to be angry with Jeremy, but robbing me of the chance to see Ethan’s face right after that kiss is the one that makes my blood boil the hottest.
“What are you doing with him?” Jeremy demands. His gaze cuts over to Ethan with a scowl.
“We’re just having a drink,” I say as casually as I can manage.
Jeremy is practically vibrating with anger. His eyes scour over me, taking in my red dress and exposed legs. The feeling of his eyes on my skin makes me cringe, and I want nothing more than to remind him that he has no right to look at me, and even less right to judge me.
Before I can say anything, Jeremy scoffs and blurts out, “With your boss, Margot? You have to realize how bad this looks. Have you been fucking him all along, or did you at least wait until we broke up to get on your knees for this asshole?”
The sound of a barstool skidding along the wood floor draws my attention towards Ethan, who is already standing and positioning himself between me and my ex.
He looms over Jeremy. In terms of height, the two men are almost equally matched, but Ethan is more muscular and has the sort of presence that makes him feel undeniably larger.
Jeremy doesn’t back down.
Bad move.
“It’s time for you to leave,” Ethan says, his voice calm but lethal.
“Fuck you,” Jeremy spits back at him. “You think I’m going to listen to some rich prick who’s been fucking my girlfriend behind my back?”
Ethan takes a step closer to Jeremy, the muscle in his jaw twitching.
Jeremy looks nervous but doesn’t back away.
They square off silently, sizing each other up like they’re looking for weak spots.
In a physical altercation, Jeremy doesn’t stand a chance against Ethan.
He’s never taken a punch in his entire life, and I have a feeling he would crumble to the ground if Ethan so much as flicked him.
As tempting as it is to sit back and watch that unfold, the idea of Ethan getting into a fight on my behalf makes me scurry off my barstool and wrap a hand around the broad muscle of his upper arm.
“Don’t,” I whisper to him. “It’s not worth it.”
The hand at his side reaches back, giving my hip a quick, reassuring squeeze as if to tell me he’s got this covered. Still, my nerves stand on end as my gaze flits between the two men.
The blonde who’s watching the scene unfold from the corner table stands and reluctantly crosses the room. She stops behind Jeremy but doesn’t try to intervene. When she glances at me, a flicker of remorse and embarrassment crosses her face.
So she does remember me then…
With his eyes fixed on Jeremy, Ethan doesn’t even seem to notice the blonde woman. His chest rises and falls with a deep breath before he speaks.
“You don’t know me, but you clearly know Margot. She’s not a cheater, which is more than I can say for you. When you fucked up and let her go, did you really think she’d sit around pining for you? Ignoring every other guy who’d jump at the chance to be with her?”
Ethan’s words touch a deep, raw spot in my chest. I have no idea if he actually means them, or if he’s just trying to get a rise out of Jeremy, but I let them soothe that aching spot inside me anyway.
His words have the opposite effect on Jeremy, who is clenching his fists like he’s thinking about throwing a punch right at Ethan’s face.
“I’d think twice about that if I were you,” Ethan warns. “You and I both know that I can afford a far better lawyer than you can.”
This hits Jeremy harder than any punch ever would. It’s a massive blow to his most vulnerable spot: his ego.
Reluctantly unclenching his fists, Jeremy takes a step back and mutters, “Let’s go,” to his date. He tosses some cash on the bar to cover the drinks then makes a swift exit. Something tells me he’s in for another fight tonight once they get home, wherever home may be for Jeremy now. Maybe with her.
A few weeks ago, the thought of him building a life with someone else would have upset me. But now? I don’t care whose bed Jeremy ends up in, as long as it’s not mine.
I don’t realize I’m still gripping Ethan’s bicep until his muscles shift beneath my palm. I drop my hand to my side just as he turns to face me.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out.
Ethan shakes his head. “Don’t apologize for him, Margot. He’s not your problem anymore.”
That’s true. After seeing Jeremy tonight, I can confidently say that the only feeling I have left for him is indifference.
As much as I would love to continue our practice date, the altercation with Jeremy undeniably put a damper on the evening. Between that and the kiss, my emotions feel all twisted up inside me, and I have no idea what to say. When Ethan asks if I’m ready to head home, I simply nod.
The car ride back to my apartment is mostly silent.
Music hums softly in the background, and Ethan taps his thumb rhythmically on the steering wheel as giant mansions give way to modest suburbs around us.
It’s a twenty-minute drive back to my apartment near downtown, where the sound of traffic will probably keep me up for a while.
Ethan’s neighborhood is so quiet, but I suppose that luxury requires a steep price tag.
“Sorry I’m being quiet again,” I eventually say.
Ethan takes a few seconds to respond. “There are two types of silence: awkward and comfortable.”
“Which one is this?” I ask, uncertain after everything that’s happened tonight.
He glances over at me, a gentle smile flickering at the edge of his mouth. “The second one.”
I relax against the leather seat, letting the silence wash over us again. He’s right—it feels comfortable with him, probably because we’ve known each other so long. If only I could skip ahead to the comfortable type of silence with all of my dates.
I’m disappointed that our practice date was cut short. I could use more of Ethan’s expertise. But if Jeremy hadn’t shown up, Ethan would never have kissed me.
No one’s ever kissed me like that. It’s a kiss that will linger indefinitely in some cozy corner of my brain, the standard by which all future kisses will be measured.
I’m just not sure if that’s a good thing or not.
When we pull up to my apartment, Ethan walks me up the stairs.
He keeps a respectable distance as I fish for my keys in my purse and unlock the door.
I pause awkwardly, wondering what the hell the right thing to say is after a fake date, an unforgettable kiss, and an altercation with my ex.
Is there some charming send-off that perfectly encapsulates all of these things?
Probably not.
When I turn to look at Ethan, his eyes are already fixed on me.
The look on his face is undecipherable, which is odd because I thought I knew all of his looks by now.
For the briefest moment, I wonder if he might kiss me again.
A flicker of hope rises in my chest, but fades the moment that he says, “Good night, Margot.”
“Good night, Ethan.”
Neither of us moves for another fraction of a second, but the tiny ray of lingering hope in my chest dims when Ethan turns and disappears down the stairs.