Chapter 13 #4
Ethan opened the cupboard under the record player and thumbed through the stack of vinyl until he found the album he had in mind.
I sat back down on the sofa while he placed the record on the turntable, and gently lowered the needle.
Ethan sat on the chair opposite me while the music crackled into existence, the female vocalist’s gritty but soulful voice aligning lusciously with a combination of guitar, synth and percussion.
It was the perfect soundtrack to a cosy Saturday night in an artist’s loft apartment in Brooklyn, New York, while snow fell outside.
I rested my head back on the sofa and sighed, contentedly, debating whether or not to say the words that had formed in my head out loud. I decided to throw caution to the wind.
‘This is gonna sound super nerdy but… you’re like the coolest person I’ve ever met.’
‘That does sound super nerdy. But thank you. I think you’re, uh, pretty ace, too. But I guess we’d already established that.’
My skin fizzed with a sudden need to be touched by him. ‘I guess so.’
Before the likely direction of our conversation could take hold, the kettle began to whistle like we were in a 1950s sitcom.
‘Tea!’ Ethan exclaimed, jumping out of the chair and busying about in the kitchenette for a few minutes.
I allowed my eyelids to close and took some deep breaths to try and slow my heart rate.
Once his fancy-pants brewing process had run its course, he placed two glass teacups down on the coffee table and sat opposite me once more.
‘It’s very hot so be careful.’
‘I will.’
We sat quietly for a while, the music and chamomile-infused steam filling the air, neither of us feeling the need to say anything while we absorbed it all.
‘I really love this music,’ I said, as the second track finished.
Even though I was gradually feeling more relaxed, my heart was still beating faster than the pulse of the music.
‘Right? I think they’re touring Europe early next year – you should get yourself to one of their shows; they’re even more amazing in the flesh.’
‘I will.’ And I knew that I meant it – Bristol was a quick train ride away from my flat and the live music scene there was brilliant. I felt excited about the prospect of all the gigs I could go to next year – maybe I could even convince Laurie to come along for some more twin-free time.
‘Are you tired?’ Ethan asked, blowing on his tea gently and taking a sip.
By now, I was practically horizontal on the sofa. ‘Yeah, pretty shattered to be honest.’
‘You should rest. Would you mind if I spent a little time on these cartoons for the speech? I’ve got all these ideas swimming in my head and if I don’t get them out tonight, I’m worried the current will take them elsewhere.’
‘Sure, I know that exact feeling. I’m happy to just sit here and watch you work. Or is that going to be off-putting?’
Ethan looked at me intensely for half a second, his face turning perhaps a shade or two pinker. ‘No, that’s cool. If I get stuck with any of it, I’ll let you know.’
‘Mmm-hmmm,’ I mumbled, stretching out fully and allowing my eyes to close.
‘Haha, good night.’
‘It’s not even midnight yet; I’m nowhere near falling asleep.’
‘Sure.’
But the combination of my alcohol-steeped bloodstream, the ASMR-style tip-taps of Ethan’s mechanical keyboard and the soothing music meant that the allure of unconsciousness beckoned much sooner than I’d anticipated it would.
I quickly fell asleep, warmly wrapped in both Ethan’s soft clothes, and the certainty that – at this singular moment in time – I was exactly where I was meant to be.
‘Fuuuuuck!’
Ethan’s yelp woke me up instantly.
‘Are you okay?’ I mumbled, rubbing my eyes and sitting up, noting that Ethan had placed the throw from his bed over me while I’d been snoozing.
‘Yeah, sorry for waking you. I tripped over this freaking beanbag and whacked my shin against the coffee table.’
‘Ouch. You should get rid of that thing; it’s not fit for purpose.’
He threw the beanbag towards the pedal bin in the kitchen area. ‘Done.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, just a bit of a shock.’
‘What time is it?’
‘Three fifteen. I’ve just finished up for the night.’
‘You’ve been working all this time?’
‘Yeah, not unusual for me; I’m a bit of a night owl when it comes to drawing. Anyway, now you’re awake, you might as well switch over to the bed.’
‘Nah, I’m quite happy here. It’s so comfy.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yep. Just gonna use the bathroom.’
I slipped my glasses on and locked the bathroom door behind me.
I switched on the small shaving lamp above the mirror and examined my reflection.
The final remnants of Mum’s cheap mascara clung to my lashes in clumps, so I ran my fingertips under the tap and rubbed them clean.
In the absence of moisturising my face after my shower, my skin felt a little tight and sore.
‘Ethan, have you got any face cream?’ I called through the door.
‘Yeah, there’s some stuff in the cupboard under the sink – help yourself.’
I found a brown glass jar of fancy-looking ‘night balm’ and slathered a blob of it over my face and neck; like every toiletry product that Ethan possessed, it smelled incredible. This guy really did have impeccable taste.
I must be the anomaly.
By the time I clicked off the bathroom light and headed back to the sofa, Ethan was all tucked up in bed, reading his book, a single reading light attached to the headboard switched on.
‘All set?’ he asked, placing the reading material down on a small bedside table, removing his glasses and resting them on top of his book.
‘All set,’ I said, climbing back under the blanket on the sofa and clocking that Ethan had replaced the single cushion I’d been resting my head on with two pillows from his bed, along with adding a sheet on top of the sofa cushions and an extra blanket.
He’d evidently been busy while I was in the bathroom.
‘Sleep well!’ I called cheerily, as if I was a nurse bidding good night to an in-patient rather than a woman lying at the foot of a bed that belonged to a man she fancied the pants off.
‘You too,’ Ethan replied quietly, before switching off the small light and plunging the room into darkness.
I closed my eyes and searched for the route to sleep that had been so easy to find just a few hours previously. But it proved fruitless.
The whistling of the ongoing storm was audible through the double glazing, but that wasn’t what was keeping me awake. It was the knowledge that Ethan was lying right there and that, if the irregular rhythm of his breathing was anything to go by, he was nowhere near sleep, either.
I tried to force my own breath to settle, but it kept catching, as if my lungs were suddenly the spokespeople for the rest of my body, urging me to do something reckless.
He made it clear that we should sleep separately.
The thought triggered a full-on argument between my common sense and my uncommon bodily sensations while I tossed and turned a few times, as if I might discover a magical position that would open up a secret sleep portal.
‘Are you okay, Flora?’
I stilled instantly, my eyes snapping open. Ethan’s voice was quiet but steady, confirming my assumption that he, too, was wide awake. This was it: the actual crossroads. Within the next two seconds, I had to decide:
Issue a generic response and try to sleep.
Or get into bed with him.
I sat up and quietly swivelled on my knees so I was facing the foot of the bed, my eyes almost adjusted to the darkness.
All I could make out was his silhouette. But it wasn’t a horizontal silhouette – Ethan was sitting upright, just like me.
It was the final piece of information I needed to make my decision. I clambered over the back of the sofa and crawled towards him. It was an unsexy crawl, but I didn’t care: because it was the quickest way I could press my mouth to his.