Chapter 25 Double Date Night #2
That sadness was sanctioned only in his eyes as the rest of his face was stiff with anger. Anger that told me he had heard everything. He heard his good friend’s discourtesy and his fiancé’s indifference to his well-being. Maybe he’d even heard mine and Peter’s flirting.
His emotions were boldly visible and intimidating, stealing away the strength in my voice. “Hi.”
He didn’t return my greeting. He stood there saying nothing at all, but even without the words, I understood him. I understood his pain, and I was so so sorry for it.
“We’re picking out a movie now if you want to join us.”
Gosh, how badly Ethan did not want to participate in tonight was like a scream heard by no one it mattered to.
I could hear it, and I could scream back but even then, we’d be two fools screaming at a world deaf of interest. Without saying a word, Ethan pushed himself off of the doorframe and walked past me out into the living room.
I heard Monica and Peter greet him as if they hadn’t been talking about him behind his back minutes ago.
I followed Ethan’s lead and joined them in the living room.
“Hey, babe? What’s this movie already in the DVD player?” Entering the living room, I found Monica kneeling on the floor in front of the T.V., analyzing a DVD disc in her hands. “The Have and the Have Nots? Maybe we should watch this. It sounds sexy,” she said with a wink.
Though the teasing air Monica had tried to create was snuffed out the second Ethan snatched the disc out of her hands as fast as lightning strikes.
“We’re not watching this.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
And that was the end of that. By Ethan’s tone, we all knew that the debate was over and dead.
Monica sported a rightfully offended look, but blinked most of it away.
“All right, then what else sounds good?” She began fingering her way past several DVD’s packed away in the drawer underneath their T.V.
stand. “I’ve got Horrors, Thrillers, Comedies, I’ve got—oh!
Oh, Pretty Woman! Oh, we have to watch this! ”
“I haven’t seen that movie in ages,” Peter tagged.
“That’s it. We’re watching it!”
And so we did as Monica wanted and all watched Pretty Woman. Peter and I sat together in the love seat while Monica and Ethan sat inches apart on the couch, not reaching out to touch each other once during the movie.
Peter not only threw his arm around my shoulders, but also placed his abnormally warm hand on top of my knee.
This was by far the most Peter had ever touched me, and I had to wonder if it was because he was getting more comfortable with me or if maybe, possibly, he was trying to compete with the other couple in the room?
Either way, his continuous touch throughout the movie made it all but impossible to focus on anything else for too long. My focus kept dipping between the movie, how much body heat Peter was producing, and how much of this all Ethan was watching,
When the fancy dinner scene came up and the line “Slippery little suckers” came out of Julia Robert’s mouth, my eyes helplessly went from the screen over to Ethan.
Unsurprisingly, he was waiting for me when I found him.
Memories of the first night we met played in his eyes like we were the stars of our very own forbidden film.
Him, coming out of nowhere, saving my falling cup, astonishing me speechless with his beauty and cheesy opening line.
Me, laughing and floundering and experiencing my first slap of guilt at how attractive I found an off-limits man.
Everything was so easy back then. He was just a stranger.
I was just his fiancé’s little sister. We were nothing to each other.
Now we were stuck in the rapids of each other, fighting the current with all our might before it sent us both over the cliff to crash and shatter on the jagged rocks below.
“Mmm,” Peter hummed, grabbing my attention from Ethan to him. “You smell good. What is that?”
Off in the direction I’d just turned away from, Ethan’s stare came in strong on the side of my face as Peter asked a question so similar to his from just weeks ago.
In a quiet voice, I answered. “Cherries.”
Peter’s eyes smiled at me behind his glasses, and he nodded. “Smells good.”
Then, he added, “My favorite fruit is strawberries if you feel any sort of inclination from that to go out and buy some strawberry scented perfume.”
In my head and by the sweet look he was giving me, I knew he meant that to come off as flirting.
Though, my heart was offended even still.
Cherries had been my signature scent for years now, and I loved it.
It was something small about me, but I’d been using and getting compliments on this shampoo for too long to want to change it.
I’d changed too many things about myself to make Jonah happy to do it for any other man.
Then, from the side of the room I’d been avoiding all night came his voice, strong and explicit. “I like cherries.”
Beside me, Peter’s body tensed. “I wasn’t saying I didn’t. I was just saying I also like strawberries.”
“I like the smell of them, too,” I quickly jumped in, placing my hand on Peter’s and giving it a gentle squeeze. His stare dropped to mine, the reflection of irritation beginning to simmer behind his lenses.
“Cherries, strawberries, bananas, who cares?” Monica interjected. “Richard Gere and Julia Roberts are about to fuck on a piano, and that’s all that matters.”
If I could have kissed Monica at that moment for the change of subject, I would have.
“I’m gonna go get a drink.” Maneuvering myself out of the love seat and Peter’s uncomfortably warm hold, I swung back to everyone. “Anyone else want anything?”
Peter shook his head, not letting me miss the disappointment coloring his eyes at me removing myself. Ethan didn’t respond at all. Thankfully, I could always rely on my big sister where alcohol was involved.
“I’ll take something!”
“What do you want?”
“Surprise me.”
“ Great .”
I left to the kitchen with a mission in mind and the anticipated taste of an apple martini on my tongue.
To make things easier on myself, I’d make Monica the same.
I’d just pulled the vodka from the side shelf in the fridge when the brush of wind passed behind my back, tugging the hairs on the nape of my neck up to stand tall.
That gust of wind brought such a familiar electricity with it that without even having to turn around, I knew who had just joined me in the kitchen.
“You’ve gotten a lot better at this than the last time you tried to make drinks in this kitchen.”
Reaching on my tippy toes, I grabbed two martini glasses from the cabinet.
“Yeah, well, practice makes perfect, right?”
Please go sit back down.
Three seconds alone with Ethan in the spot where we’d almost crossed the line twice was more than my spiraling mind could handle. I could barely keep up with my own thoughts let alone the ingredients in the drinks I was making.
Spinning around as fast as my head was, I went to grab the Sour Apple mix off of the top of the fridge. My feet stopped mid-spin as I found Ethan already holding the mix out for me to take, his eyes magnets to my own.
“Thank you,” I breathed.
Eyes intense on mine, he nodded in response.
With the sour mix in hand, I began pouring the portions for the drinks, all the while uncomfortably aware of the man standing next to me, watching my every move.
“How’s the apartment?”
Oh, so we’re doing small talk now?
“It’s good. My shower faucet is leaky, but aside from that it’s home sweet home.”
“I could fix that for you.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” I feigned a polite chuckle. “Thank you though.”
Even the idea of having Ethan alone in my apartment flustered me enough to the point my hands began to shake mid-pour. Splashes of alcohol jumped out of the shaker as my noticeably unsteady hands made a mess of the counter.
“Do you want help?”
“No, thank you.”
I needed him to leave. I needed him not so close. In the theory of spacing, he wasn’t all that close, but something about Ethan made him overwhelm whatever room he was in and feel like he was breathing down my neck even when he was five feet away.
“So are we just not gonna talk anymore?”
My elbow knocked the side of a martini glass, clanking it against the other as his words hit. The sound echoed throughout the kitchen and panic shot up through my chest, slicing my eyes over to Monica and Peter to see if they’d looked over at us.
They were both still engaged in the movie, and my panic quieted, but shame took its place loud and clear. I shouldn’t have to worry if my sister sees me talking to her fiancé. I just shouldn’t.
“We’re talking right now,” I responded, short and not so sweet.
“ No , we’re making polite conversation.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with being polite.”
“What’s wrong is that it’s bullshit .” A sharp breath sucked between my teeth as Ethan lowered his voice but left his harsh tone at full volume. “This isn’t how we communicate with each other. This isn’t us.”
Us.
One word with a million consequences and zero of them worth the risk.
“Well, it needs to be.”
“I don’t like it,” he fought back, true to Ethan form.
“Well, I’m sorry, but you have to get used to it.” We both do.
With that, I put the finishing touches on Monica’s martini and shoved it towards Ethan. My eyes on his, I spoke with sobering clarity.
“Go take this to your fiancé .”
The reality of my statement and what it meant coming from me slapped him across the face, but I didn’t stay to watch the aftermath unfold.
I scooped up my own drink, went back into the living room and cuddled up with Peter for the rest of the movie, thoughts of the man across the room roadblocked in my mind.
As long as Monica was my sister, Ethan and I would never again be the ‘ us’ he spoke of. The us we never should have let ourselves become in the first place. Our us was over no matter what.
Both our hearts be damned.