Chapter 41
FLASHBACK
Ethan
The warmth of that summer night lingered on my skin.
We were eighteen, standing at the edge of my parents’ backyard where the grass thinned into woods, crickets louder than the music drifting from the house.
Graduation had ended hours earlier. People were still inside, drinking cheap beer, talking too loudly about futures none of us really understood yet.
Claire slipped away from the crowd. I followed her without thinking.
She stood barefoot in the grass, her shoes hooked around two fingers, her dress brushing her knees whenever the breeze moved. She folded her arms loosely over her middle, chin tipped down, the posture she always took when she felt watched.
She’d never liked her body much back then.
Said it made her stand out.
I didn’t know how to tell her I saw it differently without sounding stupid.
Her dress fit her softly, the curve of her waist, her hips, the gentle fullness of her chest. She had this natural hourglass shape. She wasn’t polished or confident. She was just herself. And that was enough to make my thoughts go blank more often than I’d admit.
She turned when she heard me. “Everyone’s getting drunk inside.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I needed air.”
She glanced at me, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “Me too.”
I stepped closer, not touching her yet. Close enough to feel the heat she gave off, close enough to notice the way her shoulders tensed and then relaxed again.
“You, okay?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
She laughed. “I’m serious. Everyone’s talking about what comes next. What college will be like. What they’re leaving behind.”
I took her shoes from her hand without asking and set them aside. “What about you?”
She looked up at me then, eyes honest in a way that always knocked the breath out of me. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just don’t want everything to change all at once.”
Something settled in my chest. I’d been carrying the same thought around for months, turning it over without ever saying it out loud. The idea felt reckless and obvious at the same time.
“Claire,” I said.
She stilled, watching me.
I lifted my hands to her face, careful, like I was asking permission even as I touched her. Her skin was warm, familiar. She smelled like summer and whatever soap she always used.
“I’ve been thinking about next year,” I said.
She nodded. “Me too.”
“We’re going to the same school.”
“I know.”
“We’re already… together.”
She smiled faintly. “Yeah.”
I took a breath. “What if we lived together?”
Her eyebrows lifted. She didn’t pull away. She just looked surprised, like she was rewinding the words to make sure she’d heard them right.
“Lived together,” she repeated.
“Yeah,” I said, quieter now. “I mean, we don’t have to decide everything tonight.” I shook my head. “It feels like something we could do. If you wanted to.”
She was quiet for a long moment. Her hands came up and rested against my chest, right over my heartbeat. I could feel how fast it was going.
“Okay,” she said finally. Then, after a second, “Yeah. Okay.”
Relief hit first. Then something warmer.
I kissed her because it felt natural, because she was already leaning in. It wasn’t dramatic or perfect. Just soft and a little unsteady, like we were both figuring it out as we went.
She laughed against my mouth when I pulled her closer. Her arms slid around my neck. I lifted her without meaning to, more instinct than strength, and she made this surprised sound that turned into a laugh.
We ended up in the grass, her dress spread out beneath her, me bracing myself on my elbows so I didn’t crush her. She looked up at me, cheeks flushed, hair messy, eyes bright in the moonlight.
“We’re really doing this?” she asked.
“I think so,” I said. “If you want to.”
She smiled, slower this time. “I do.”
“I love you,” she said, like it wasn’t a performance, just a fact she was handing me.
I swallowed. “I love you too.”
I meant it the only way I knew how then, without knowing how much could change.
We lay there for a while, not talking, just listening to the noise from the house and the woods beyond it. Her head rested against my shoulder. My fingers traced absent shapes along her arm.
For that night, that was enough.
And lying there with her, fingers tangled in her hair, her warmth beneath my palms, the world felt simple.