Chapter 18 Ethan #2
Then my lips are pressed against hers. Who moved first is anyone’s guess, but it doesn’t matter.
In fact, nothing really matters at this moment besides the faint taste of cinnamon on her lips.
Everything else drifts away—the heat of the afternoon sun, the smell of popcorn wafting through the air, the screams of the next group of riders on that damn rollercoaster.
Margot wraps her arms around my neck and tilts her head to one side, allowing me to deepen the kiss.
My tongue finds hers, first with a tentative stroke then with the confidence of two people who have done this before and committed the whole thing to memory.
My hands slide down to Margot’s waist, pulling her close.
The way she fits in my arms is perfect, like it’s where she’s meant to be.
I don’t really believe in fate, but if there’s anyone who could change my mind about that, it’s her.
I can’t help but wonder if Margot and I were destined to meet.
Destined to forge a friendship built on a deep understanding of each other that most people can’t even comprehend.
Destined to laugh together through good times and prop each other up during the hard times.
Of course, kissing her—twice now—is not the friendliest way to behave. That’s a problem for another time though.
Eventually, we break apart with a smile on our lips. Margot blushes and rocks back on her heels, putting a bit of space between us. Her lips are still wet and flushed with the evidence of our kiss as they part into a wicked smile. “So… log ride?”
“Lead the way.”
***
The lake at the center of the amusement park reflects the dusky sky overhead. Our swan pedal boat cuts through the water, the lights of the park reflecting off the surface.
Is pedaling around the lake at twilight in a giant swan something I normally do with my friends? No, but I think Margot and I have already ventured way out of the friend zone today.
Ever since that kiss, the day has been filled with little touches.
My hand on the small of her back as we make our way through the crowd.
Her fingers grazing my arm as she laughs.
Even now, I’m hyper aware of how close we’re sitting.
How easy it would be for her to shift an inch to the left and find herself pressed to my side.
How simple it would be for her fingers to brush against mine until we’re holding hands again.
“I know this isn’t technically a practice date, but you’re setting the bar pretty high with this whole swan boat situation,” Margot jokes.
Margot’s dating life is the last thing I want to talk about right now, but if we don’t talk about something, we’re going to end up making out in this ridiculous swan boat.
I’d like nothing more than to kiss her again, but if we’re going to survive whatever this thing is between us with our professional and personal relationship intact, we can’t just give in every time we’re within touching distance.
I keep my eyes fixed on the Ferris wheel in the distance and force my jaw to unclench before I ask, “How’s that going… the whole dating thing?”
She lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “It’s not.”
The relief that washes over me is unwelcome but not unexpected. “That bad, huh?”
“It’s pretty bleak out there,” Margot says, sounding more resigned than upset. “Every message is either some random guy’s sexual wish list, or it’s just a straight-up dick pic… although ‘straight’ isn’t exactly the word I would use to describe most of them.”
I grimace. “That’s rough.”
Of course, I always knew dating apps were garbage for women, but I hadn’t fully grasped how soul-sucking they could be until I started helping Margot with this dating project. Still, hearing it now—hearing her say it—makes something twist in my chest.
“Yeah, definitely not boyfriend material,” she says. “Not even one-night stand material if we’re being honest.”
Right. Margot wants a one-night stand. It’s an idea of hers that I’ve both longed to forget and allowed to haunt those quiet moments between consciousness and sleep in bed at night.
Tension wraps around us like an old friend. Margot shifts beside me, as if she feels it, too. The swan rocks slightly as we both work to maintain an inch of space between us. That inch of space is polite, proper, appropriate for a boss and his assistant.
I’ve never hated a unit of measurement so fucking much.
“Can I ask you something?” I finally say.
Beside me, Margot nods.
Even with her permission, it’s difficult to wrestle the question out of my throat.
It crosses every line—the boss/employee line, the platonic friend line (even if we are friends who apparently kiss sometimes).
But more importantly, it crosses the invisible but insurmountable line that really separates us: people like me, whose romantic encounters are solely of the one-night variety, and people like Margot who see one-night stands as a novelty.
A bucket list item. Something to check off her list before settling down with “the one.”
“Why do you want to have a one-night stand?” I ask. “What are you hoping to get out of it?"
Margot shrugs, fiddling with a ring on her finger. “I guess I figured it might be an experience worth having, and if I don’t do it now, I might not ever have the chance again.”
Silence swells around us as we both stare off at the lights in the distance.
There’s a thought forming inside my head.
A reckless thought that’s rapidly consuming my brain and making my body buzz with anticipation.
My fingers flex into fists, knuckles cracking under the pressure, then straighten and come to rest rigidly on my knees.
I try to wrangle my thoughts, to shove them down deep and forget all about them.
Because this idea of mine—it’s a bad one.
A very bad one.
“It’s stupid,” Margot says eventually through the ghost of a laugh.
“It’s not like I’d ever feel safe inviting some stranger into my apartment.
And that’s assuming that I even find a man on that app that I would consider sleeping with, which seems pretty unlikely at this point.
” She glances over at me, winces, and then quickly looks away.
“Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about this. ”
It’s unclear whether this assumption is because I’m her boss or because I’m the man who kissed her just a few hours ago. Either way, I shake my head dismissively, too lost in my own intrusive thoughts to correct her.
The truth is that I don’t want to hear about it—I want to fix it.
“I might have an idea,” I say.
Margot hums a quiet, inquisitive note in return. I can tell by her tone that she’s expecting me to suggest meeting a stranger in a bar or splurging on a fancy sex toy instead, and she’s not particularly enthused by either suggestion.
I turn to face her. “It’s more of a proposition actually.”
“I’m listening…” she says slowly.
“If you really want a one-night stand, have one with me.”
Margot’s eyes go wide and her lips part. She blinks once, twice… enough times to make me consider that the contacts she wore today on account of the rollercoaster might be experiencing some sort of epic failure. The words hang in the air between us for several long seconds.
“Ethan…” The two syllables drip with confusion, shock, and hope all at once. “Are you sure you would want to—I mean, is that a good idea? Wouldn’t it… complicate things?”
“Probably,” I admit reluctantly. “But it also makes the most sense. You want a one-night stand, and I happen to be skilled in that department. With me, you wouldn’t have to worry about being safe or having a good time.
” You wouldn’t have to worry about it becoming anything more.
That’s the part I don’t say out loud, although if she agrees to this, we’ll have to have that conversation.
Because as much as I want to give her this experience, that’s all I’m able to give her.
“It doesn’t have to complicate anything if we don’t let it. ”
“I, uh,” she stammers, along with the start of a few other words. Her eyes are still wide with surprise, but there’s a spark of something else as well, which matches the flicker of heat I feel in my chest.
“Look, I know this is an unusual situation and an unusual offer. I’m asking you as a friend, not as your boss. Whatever your answer is, it won’t affect either of those relationships.”
I stare deep into her eyes, stressing these final words. Of all the reasons that this is probably a bad idea, the one that scares me the most is losing her—professionally or otherwise.
Margot’s expression shifts, like she’s mulling it over. Weighing the pros and the cons. Compiling an entire spreadsheet of data in her head. I watch her, wondering exactly what she’s thinking. Wondering what her answer will be.
Hoping she says yes.
Instead, she sucks in a choppy breath and doesn’t meet my eyes when she asks quietly, “It’s a nice offer, Ethan, but what would you get out of it?”
The laugh that punches from my chest is purely involuntary. It’s such a ridiculous question.
Margot’s eyes snap up to my face, obviously surprised by my reaction.
When I reach for her this time, it’s anything but a small or tentative touch.
My hand slides along her jaw, cupping it as my thumb skates over her cheek.
“I would get to fuck you, Margot. I would finally get to know how you taste. How you feel. How you look when you’re breathless and messy and completely undone. What else could I possibly want?”
When she casts her eyes downward again, it’s only to hide the way she’s blushing. But I can feel the heat of her flushed skin beneath my thumb and the way her pulse quickens beneath my fingertips. There’s no hiding the way she reacts to me, or the smile it brings to my lips.
“Think about it,” I say, my tone shifting. “Take all the time you need. There’s no rush.”
It’s true. I’ll wait however long she needs. If we do this, I want her to be sure about it.
Margot opens her mouth to speak, but she’s cut off by the loud boom overhead. She jumps, looking up just as the first firework’s red and gold tendrils bloom above us. Another one follows, painting the dark sky with bursts of color and light.
Her brows furrow. “They’ve never done fireworks here before.”
I shrug, pretending to be just as surprised. “Weird.”
Margot turns slowly back to me, eyes narrowed. “Ethan.”
“Margot.” I copy her stern tone.
“Did you do this?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, but my smile gives me away.
She shakes her head playfully. “Such a liar.”
“Anything for my favorite smartass.”
A smile widens on Margot’s lips as she looks back up at the sky, now fully alight with streams of color. There’s no space left between us, so when Margot leans into my side, I wrap my arm around her shoulders. We both stare up at the sky, lost in the familiar, comfortable silence.