17. Lily
Chapter 17
Lily
T he pillows were so comfy. The sheets were so soft. But, most of all, having Ethan sleeping in the bed beside me felt so, so good.
I loved watching him sleep. The show rise and fall of his sculpted chest. The hardness of his abs. The way they lead, like a sinful ladder of flesh, all the way down to that delicious part of his body I had gotten to know so intimately, over and over and over again yesterday.
Was it wrong to want to pull the sheet down and take another look at it?
I moved my hand as slowly as possible toward the edge of the sheet. I was about to whip it away when Ethan grumbled and turned over so that he was on his side.
“Fine,” I whispered to myself. “You win this time, modesty.”
I could have watched him for hours. Part of the fun of watching, of course, was knowing what we’d done yesterday.
Sex. Lots of sex. Sex in this bed. Sex out of this bed. On the floor, up against the wall. Even up against the window, as he pressed my body up against the cold glass and made me scream with ecstasy.
But not just sex. In between the orgasms was warmth. Chat. Jokes.
All the things we’d vowed we wouldn’t do, but inevitably had ended up doing.
After he’d shown me just how strong I was by encouraging me into the cold ocean, he’d showed me just how strong we could be together. It tasted so damn good that I wanted more and more. I didn’t want to just dip my toes into this giant feeling that was growing between us—I wanted to dive right in and freeze my ass off.
Ethan had worked so hard to satisfy me yesterday. He’d made me come at least seven times, although if you count the time I came in my sleep last night —yes, it happened again—then it was eight. Technically, it was only fair to count it, since it involved a very realistic dream about him.
No wonder he looked so exhausted now. So peaceful. I loved seeing him like this, his dark lashes fanned out, full lips relaxed. He was completely gorgeous and somehow, miraculously, he was mine. At least for now. Giddiness bubbled up inside me.
I wanted to make this morning perfect for him.
I wasn’t his girlfriend, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make him some breakfast. He deserved it.
Slipping quietly out of bed, I padded downstairs to the kitchen. Luckily, my legs still worked, despite Ethan’s best efforts to turn them to Jell-O last night.
“Now, let’s see,” I whispered as I reached the kitchen. “French toast ingredients. . . .”
I grabbed eggs, butter, and milk from the fridge. Found cinnamon and vanilla essence in the spice rack, and bread and sugar in the cupboard. It was a seriously well-organized space. I had dated a bunch of men in my time, but most of them had been like overgrown kids, messy and careless.
I stifled a laugh as I thought about Vlad’s place. Cigarette butts left in stagnant, water-filled whiskey bottles. A fridge rammed full of rancid condiments and not much else. The only edible thing I found the first night I stayed there was a half-pack of ramen noodles and—bizarrely—a pouch of freeze-dried cranberries. Turned out his mom sent him the cranberries every couple of months to get him to eat some fruit.
Vlad was a baby compared to Ethan.
It felt faintly sacrilegious to think about Vlad right now, so, I stopped myself.
I dipped bread in the eggy mixture, then fried up the slices until they were golden brown and steaming. I arranged them on a plate, drizzled them with syrup, and dusted them with powdered sugar and cinnamon. My finest work. A breakfast to remember.
Also—and this was a secret—the only special breakfast I knew how to make.
The floorboards creaked behind me. I spun around to find Ethan standing in the doorway, his hair adorably rumpled, his blue eyes wide.
“You’re still here,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
I furrowed my brow. “Course. Where else would I be?”
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, gaze darting away. “For a crazy moment, I thought maybe you’d run off. Even checked your pillow for notes.”
A pang shot through my chest. Did he really think I’d just leave without a word? “No way.”
“We broke so many rules yesterday I was worried you got scared off.”
“Did breaking the rules scare you off?” I asked, smiling.
“It was a bit of a surprise.”
Hmm. That wasn’t exactly a no.
“Yeah,” I said. “Felt good though, right?”
“I don’t regret it,” he said, clearly sensing that I was a little upset. “I just—it was unexpected, that’s all. I’ve lived so carefully for so long, and, you know, losing control like that is unusual for me, that’s all.”
“I made you breakfast.”
“Smells good.”
For a moment, things felt a little awkward. His eyes met mine, vulnerability shimmering in their blue depths.
Doubt flashed through me. Maybe I didn’t know him.
“Hope you like it.”
We dug into breakfast, moaning over the custardy bread, licking syrup from our sticky fingers. Despite the earlier moment of tension, it felt good. Right. Like we’d been doing the domestic routine for years instead of hours.
“I know it wasn’t the plan, but I have to admit, yesterday was . . . enjoyable,” Ethan said softly, setting his plate aside.
Why did the word “enjoyable” get me panicking again? “I enjoyed it too,” I said warily. “Do you think we took things too far, though?”
He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m sorry. I really don’t want to ruin things.”
“Right. Yeah.” I bit the inside of my cheek. I got the funny feeling I was trying to fight back tears.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t have more fun,” said Ethan, reaching for my hand. “Let’s just cool it on the sleeping in the same bed stuff. Ava will be back tonight, anyway. I’ll put together the new sleeper sofa today.”
“Thank you. Great.” I tried a smile. “I think I’m going to the bookstore for a bit.”
“Oh good. I hope you have a good day. You good to pick Ava up after school?”
“Mmhmm. Sure.”
“It’s probably healthy for us to spend some time apart.”
I ignored the sting of his words, forcing a bright smile. “Exactly. I’ll see you later, okay?”
He nodded, but as I turned to leave, he caught my hand. “Lily, wait.”
My heart leaped into my throat as he tugged me closer, his calloused thumb brushing over my knuckles. Hope unfurled in my chest, fragile and fluttering.
“I just . . .” He reached up, tucking a stray curl behind my ear with a wistful smile. “I’ve been wanting to do this since I woke up.”
And then he was leaning in, his lips barely grazing the freckles dusting my cheekbone. The touch was so light, there and gone in an instant, but it sent tingles radiating across my skin.
I blinked up at him, stunned, a furious blush staining my face. “What was that for?”
“Sorry things aren’t straightforward.” A warm smile quirked his mouth. “Now go on, get out of here. Enjoy alphabetizing your books.”
“Is that what you think I do all day?”
“Isn’t it?”
“Well, I mean. There is a certain amount of alphabetizing, that’s true, but—”
“See you later, nerd.”
As I got dressed and then walked into town, I couldn’t shake the memory of Ethan’s lips on my skin. He’d kissed my freckles. Again. It was like he was morphing into a fricking romance hero. A romance hero who didn’t want anything to do with me romantically.
And what about me? Was I a romance heroine?
Hardly. More like a confused stand-in for the hero’s dead ex.
I could see that having me around was helping Ethan work through his old, buried grief. But what about me? Was it helping me? I definitely felt different from the Lily I had been when I’d run away from Vlad at the altar.
I was more worldly-wise. More cautious. More horny.
I unlocked the door of my store and pushed it open. I inhaled the comforting smell, and let my fingers trail along the spines of the books, letting the familiar titles ground me. Maybe if I surrounded myself with romance, I could believe again.
Maybe if I hung around a man that wanted something romantic to happen, that would help, too.
I shook my head. For now, all I had was the books.
Losing myself in them, however, was not easy. For one thing, they were all in such disarray. Each time things had started going well between me and Ethan, I’d started a new display. Unforgettable first kisses. Stupidly steamy sex scenes. I’d even started a new corner dedicated to hot mechanics. But then, inevitably, as things ran hot and cold between me and my real-life mechanic, I’d lost interest in the books again.
And then there were the money worries. The money Ethan had been paying me had helped me pay off a few wedding debts I still owed, but the bookstore was still in crisis. There were bills from suppliers waiting for me in my long-neglected work inbox, and the bookstore was no longer bringing in enough revenue to pay the rent. Partly because I had been closing the store a lot, and partly because I’d been putting customers off with phrases like, “Romance is a lie.”
I turned on the coffee machine with a sigh and then logged into my computer, opening up my business banking account. I made a mental note to change the password. LilyandVlad4Eva didn’t have quite the same ring to it as it once had.
I grimaced as I saw the balance.
Paying these bills was going to virtually clean me out. Old transactions caught my eye. Thousands spent on a wedding that hadn’t happened. Canapes and cake toppers. Favors and flowers.
I was in trouble. Something had to change. I either had to fall back in love with—well— love , or move on to something new.
Sighing, I sank into a plush armchair, burying my face in my hands. I was thoroughly, utterly screwed.
Just as I was about to lose myself in another spiral of overthinking, my phone vibrated with an incoming call. Grateful for the distraction, I fished it out of my pocket, my brows lifting when I saw Mary-Beth’s name on the screen. I know I was trying very hard not to believe in omens, but that had to be one, right?
“Hey, MB,” I answered, trying my best not to sound like I was mid-freakout. “What’s up?”
“Lils, you’ll never guess what happened. Saffron, who was working in horrror and sci-fi, is pregnant. She’s leaving really soon for mat leave. She says she’s coming back, but her husband works in finance and they are loaded, and honestly, who would want to come back to work if you didn’t literally have to?”
I looked around the bookstore. “Yeah. She’s lucky.”
“Anyway, to cut a long story short, we now have no horror agents left here at all! And Coco remembered about you, without me even having to prompt her. She asked me—no, begged me, really—to get you in for an interview. Not just for a junior role, but to head up the whole department.”
I sat up straighter, my heart skipping a beat. “Why does Coco want me to interview? Why not, like, an actual horror fan?”
“Well, she remembers me telling her about what you did at your wedding, for one thing. And she finds the name of your bookstore really funny. And I guess, honestly, she’s quite nepotistic when it comes to employing people, so it’s pretty much always family members or friends of friends, or . . . Wait, are you interested?”
I sucked in a sharp breath, my mind reeling. It was an amazing opportunity. A chance to earn some real cash, to get away from the bookstore, to start out all over again. Sure, I’d be working with horror novels, but how bad could they be? It was fun to be scared shitless, right? Who doesn’t like to imagine getting eaten or kidnapped or lured into the woods or whatever normally happens in horror books?
The point was that this would be the end of my money problems. The end of making Ethan uncomfortable. The end of breaking rules and causing trouble.
After all, Ethan would be finishing his firefighter training soon. Ava would get her dyslexia test and be just fine without me. Elara would have her baby. Wasn’t this my time to shine?
So, why did the thought of leaving Bluehaven Beach feel like a punch to the gut?
“Lily? You still there?”
I shook myself out of my daze. “Yeah, yeah. I just . . . wow. I still can’t . . . it’s a lot to think about.”
“It is. I’m sorry if it seems like I’m pushing you. I just didn’t want you to miss out on the chance. Did I mention the salary? The starting salary is fifty grand, but you’d probably get a little higher than that with your literary background.”
Fifty. Grand?
Mary-Beth was right. This was an amazing opportunity. And yet, even as I opened my mouth to agree, something held me back. A tugging in my chest, a whisper in the back of my mind.
A pair of piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight into my soul.
“I . . . I don’t know. Do you need to know now?”
“Kind of! I might be able to stall Coco for a couple of days. But don’t take too long. This kind of thing doesn’t come around every day. I mean, I might still be able to swing you a junior role, but if you want to interview for the Head of Department role, then you’re gonna need to move quickly.”
“You know what, Mary-Beth, I’m actually going to—”
A tapping at the window stopped me in my tracks. It was Ethan, and he was holding a bouquet of flowers.
“I’ll call you back,” I said and hung up.
I opened the door, the bell jingling merrily above my head.
“Hey,” Ethan said, holding out the flowers. “You, uh, probably picked up on the fact that I’m feeling a little confused right now.”
I took the bouquet. He must have gathered these flowers himself. There was honeysuckle and jasmine, as well as ox-eye daisies and scruffy dandelions. It was a little messy but very colorful. And I didn’t want to bring it up, but it was kinda romantic.
“Those are some of the flowers you said you liked while we were walking down to the beach yesterday,” he said. “Thought they might make working in the store a little more cheerful for you today.”
I nodded, surprised by how touched I was.
“Come in,” I said, trying to regain control as I led him into the store. For some reason, out of habit, I guess, I stood behind the counter. Maybe I was trying to put some distance between us. I slipped the flowers into a coffee mug that said, “My book boyfriend is better than yours” on the front. “Macchiato?”
He smiled. “Not really a fan. But a simple coffee would be great.”
I nodded. “All right. Two simple coffees, coming up.” I was using my business voice. Why was I using my business voice?
“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “A lot. Not just this morning, but in the night, too. It’s why I was so weird at breakfast. Which was fucking delicious, by the way. Did I thank you?”
I eyed the flowers suspiciously. Were they break-up flowers? “You did. Is everything okay?”
“I’ve been trying to figure out what to do. About this. About us.”
I switched on the coffee grinder, and we both stayed silent while the machine whirred and crunched beside us. “It’s okay,” I said when the machine stopped. “I get it. This was never meant to be more than a bit of fun.”
He didn’t pause. “I was wondering . . . are you free for dinner tonight? I thought maybe we could talk. Figure some things out.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What about Ava?”
“Cole said he’d pick her up and watch her again.” He paused, studying my face. “When I explained what I needed the time for, he was irritatingly accommodating.”
“Does he . . . know what’s going on with us?”
“Mmhmm. Hope you don’t mind me talking to him.”
“Course not. We all need a sounding board.”
“Right.”
Despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach, I couldn’t help but smile. “Well, yes. The answer’s yes. I’d love to have dinner with you.”
“Great,” he said, taking the coffee cup I was holding out for him. “I’ll head to yours at seven. Oh, and dress fancy. We’re heading to Goldharbor Bay.”
“Not burgers on the beach?”
“Not this time.” He looked deep into my eyes. “Oh, and by the way, this will most definitely be a date.”
***
For the rest of the workday, I had such crazy nerves that they could have hooked my jiggling leg up to a generator and powered the whole town.
It was ridiculous, really. I’d been on more dates than anyone in Bluehaven Bay. I’d done blind dates, speed dates, internet dates, and even one-time sexy hookup dates. And yet, dating Ethan McCoy, the man I already lived with, already had slept with multiple times, felt scariest of all.
For some reason, it felt like there was a lot at stake. I guess it was because we were doing things backward. If the date went badly, it would make it hard—maybe impossible—to move back to all that sex again. And if the date went well . . . If the date went well, then that was even scarier.
So of course, I planned the whole thing out. I wrote out a list of first-date questions for Ethan on the back of a receipt.
What’s your favorite car?
What’s your earliest memory?
Did you see that incredible news story about the talking cat?
How do you keep your bed sheets so soft?
And finally:
Could you ever foresee a future where me and you end up together romantically, very much in love?
I didn’t write down that last question. But I thought about it a lot.
I tried to figure out my outfit next. It had to be perfect. Elegant but flirty. Something that fit perfectly, but looked completely natural. It couldn’t scare him off, but it had to turn him on. It had to be more than just a fuck-me dress, though. It had to be a love-me one.
After work, I walked back to my apartment in a hurry. It had been a long while since I’d walked this way along the Main Street. I’d been at Ethan’s for so many nights now that going back to my place felt like I was going back in time. When I opened my egg-yolk yellow front door and walked back into the musty space, it felt like I’d forgotten a little of myself in here. Still, I wasn’t here to get all philosophical. I just needed some damn clothes.
I rifled through my closet, pushing aside sundresses and cardigans until my eyes landed on a vintage swing dress in a rich emerald green. This could work. The sweetheart neckline and fitted bodice were flirty without being over-the-top.
I took a long, steamy shower, then I slipped the dress on, relishing the feel of the silky fabric against my skin. The full skirt swished around my knees as I twirled in front of the mirror. It was elegant but fun, just like I wanted tonight to be.
I had a tendency to go a little over-the-top when it came to accessories, but tonight I held back. A delicate gold pendant and small hoop earrings added a touch of shine. I stepped into a pair of strappy gold heels—high enough to make my legs look good, but not so high I’d be limping by desert.
Next came my hair and makeup. My hands were still shaking with nerves as I swept my copper locks into a loose, low chignon, letting a few face-framing strands escape. A swipe of liquid liner made my eyes pop, while a dusting of rosy blush highlighted my cheekbones. I finished with a subtle pink lipstick. As I grabbed my clutch and took one last glance in the mirror, my nerves began to melt away, replaced by a flutter of pure excitement.
Tonight was the night.
The night that would define my future with Ethan McCoy.
We were either going to tear up that rulebook and open our hearts to each other, or . . . well, we’d have to shove our messy feelings back into neat little boxes and become experts on books about blood and gore in the city. Well, that applied to me, anyway. Although I hoped and prayed that Plan B only existed to make Plan A look even better.
Finally, I felt ready. Until Ethan rang my doorbell, that was. And then my heart practically leaped out of my throat.
I opened my front door to see him waiting outside, leaning against his car. My breath caught in my throat. He looked incredible. He wore a tailored navy blue suit that hugged his muscular frame in all the right places. Beneath it, his crisp white shirt had the top couple of buttons undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his tanned skin and strong neck.
As he stepped forward to greet me, I couldn’t help but admire the way the suit moved with him, the material flexing and shifting over his athletic build. His dark hair was artfully tousled, like he’d just run his fingers through it, and the faint scruff on his chiseled jaw only added to his rugged, masculine appeal.
But it was his eyes that really did me in. Those piercing blue depths were filled with warmth and appreciation as they raked over me, taking in every inch of my carefully selected ensemble. I practically shivered under his gaze.
“Wow,” he breathed, reaching for my hand. “Lily, you look . . . stunning.”
“You clean up pretty well yourself. I don’t see a single speck of grease on you.”
“I treated myself to a shower. Seeing as this is a special occasion and all. Speaking of which, I’m gonna take us over in Bessie.”
“Bessie?”
He gestured at his vehicle. I’d been so focused on him, I’d barely taken it in. It was baby blue and well-polished. Like all the vehicles Ethan seemed to own, it was a classic.
“1957 Chevy Bel Air. The second most beautiful thing I’ve seen today.”
My cheeks colored. “So, where are you taking Bessie and me?”
“Hop in, and you’ll find out.”
***
The neon sign of Seoul Food blazed against the twilight sky, its hot pink and electric blue hues lighting up the spring evening. The Korean restaurant, a hidden gem nestled in a narrow alley off Goldharbor Bay, beckoned with promises of spice and adventure.
“Oh my!” I exclaimed. “I’ve been dying to try this place. I keep asking Elara, but she’s had morning sickness and been living off white rice and potatoes for three months.”
Ethan grinned. “Well, when I saw you ordering that turkey-kimchi burger, I thought you might be up for it. Ida put that burger on the menu after coming here. She’s been putting kimchi in everything lately. Even in some ice cream once, but we don’t talk about that incident.”
I laughed. “Sounds . . . unusual.”
As we approached the restaurant, Ethan reached out for my hand. I took it and squeezed. The moment felt just right. The salty breeze from the nearby seafront mingled with wafting aromas of garlic, ginger, and sizzling meat. My stomach growled in anticipation.
The restaurant interior was a cocoon of warmth and tantalizing scents. Low lighting cast everything in a soft, amber glow, while the buzz of conversation and the gentle clinking of utensils created an intimate atmosphere. A date atmosphere.
A server guided us to a cozy booth tucked away in a corner. As we slid onto the smooth leather seats, I noticed a flicker of apprehension cross his face.
“I have to admit,” he said, his voice low, “I’m a little nervous.”
I leaned in, drawn by the dancing flame of the candle nestled in a delicate paper lantern between us. “About our date?”
He chuckled, a warm sound that sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. “About the food, actually.” His smile was both sheepish and mischievous. “No pain, no gain though, right?”
I quirked an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, I see. So, you chose this place for the kinky thrill of spice? Was seeing me choke on Cole’s reaper sauce not enough for you the other day?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you in candlelight.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at my lips. “Smooth, McCoy. Real smooth.”
The air between us crackled like the first spark before a flame. As I watched Ethan’s eyes scan the menu, the flickering candlelight cast shadows across his striking features.
Ethan ordered wine and then asked me to choose the food. “Don’t worry, spice queen. I trust you.”
“How weird can I go?” I asked.
“As weird as that freaky brain of yours dares.”
I erred on the side of caution but ordered a spread of dishes to share— bulgogi , japchae , and a sizzling hot pot that contained a long list of ingredients I loved individually but had never tried together. And, of course, I ordered extra kimchi. Because kimchi goes with everything.
“So, since this is our first date, I figured I should probably get to know you,” Ethan said, with a smile.
He looked so devilishly handsome, he could have made a bunch of meaningless grunts and I’d still have been happy just to watch his face. “Okay! What do you want to know?”
“If money was no object, what would you do with your life?”
“Damn. That is hard. It’s impossible!”
He laughed. “Sorry, I thought I’d start with a big one. You know, Cole brought a list of questions for Elara on their first date. Printed it out.”
“I actually know that. She told me.” I bit my lip. Was now a good time to admit to the questions I’d written out on the back of that receipt today? I’d decided at the last minute, to leave it at home.
“I spoke to him today. He advised me to do the same thing.”
“So did you?”
He smirked. “No way. I’m not a dweeb like Cole. I don’t need a list of questions.”
“Yeah,” I said. “What a total dweeb.” I swallowed, trying not to look guilty.
The wine arrived and the server poured us both a glass. Ethan raised his and clinked it against mine.
I took a sip. It was light and fruity. Very easy to drink, especially when my nerves were running as high as this.
“Come on,” said Ethan. “You haven’t answered my question. Dream life?”
I pondered for a moment. “You know what? That’s actually really easy.”
“Is it?”
“Mmhmm. I would live everywhere. And I would do everything.”
“That’s cheating.”
I shrugged. “No, it’s not. It’s why I like reading. It lets you live more than one life. You wouldn’t believe how many different book boyfriends I’ve had over the years. I’ve dated billionaires, bikers, mountain men. Even a secret royal or two.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes. “So does that mean if you read a romance novel about a hunky guy, you’re cheating on me?”
“Wait, you’re jealous of an imaginary book boyfriend?” I couldn’t help but notice that phrase. Cheating on me . You couldn’t cheat on someone unless you were in a relationship.
“Yes. No. Maybe? Fuck. Maybe I am jealous of—what’s he called—Chad McStudden?”
I laughed. “Chad McStudden?”
“Right. That’s the kind of name these book boyfriends have, right? Chad’s definitely a billionaire. Made his fortune from . . . sex toys. All based on the unlikely proportions of his own enormous dick.”
“He sounds like an enormous dick.”
“He’s a real bad boy. But he’ll grow on you.”
“I doubt it,” I replied. “He sounds more like a villain. The evil ex.”
“Well, I’m still jealous of him,” Ethan huffed. “For his enormous dick if nothing else.”
Trying not to think about Ethan’s extremely generously sized penis, I said, “Getting jealous is against the rules, remember?”
Just then, our food arrived. Lots of different plates of colorful-looking food. My mouth watered. I had been so nervous about the date that I hadn’t eaten any lunch, so I skewered a forkful of noodles and started chewing them immediately.
Ethan didn’t start to eat. He cleared his throat. “You know, on the subject of rules . . . they’re part of the reason I invited you here tonight. I wanted to talk to you about us. What’s happening between us.”
Shit. Maybe this was a break-up. I’d never be able to eat Korean food again. Kimchi? Dead to me.
Ethan reached across the table and took my hand. “Lily,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I know we agreed to keep things casual. To follow the rules you set out for us. But it’s hard.”
I put down my fork. “It is hard, isn’t it?”
He met my gaze, his blue eyes intense. “I thought we could . . . relax some of the rules.”
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. “Ethan, I. . . .”
“I know it’s risky,” he said, squeezing my hand. “I know we both have baggage. But look, we’re both adults. We know that what’s going on between us isn’t a long-term thing.”
“Right. Yeah. Of course.”
I swallowed away a pang of irritation and stared at the flame flickering inside the lantern between us. The wick was running low, and the light would go out soon. It would end. Like everything.
“So, I figure there’s no harm in changing the rules a little,” Ethan continued. “Just a smidge.”
“Why?”
“To make life easier. Plus, it feels . . . cold to have sex but not be able to have a meal together. Because there are times when I want to talk to you about how you feel and how I feel.”
I blinked at him. “But you don’t want to just, I don’t know, say ‘Fuck the rules’ and have a relationship?”
“You don’t need to worry about that,” he said shaking his head. “I know you don’t want that from me.”
My chest tightened. I’d literally told all my nearest and dearest that I was never going to marry again. That I was done with relationships. That I didn’t believe in love.
Had I changed my mind about that? If I did change my mind, what if I just got hurt again? Even though I’d been about to marry Vlad, something told me that if things didn’t work out with Ethan, it was going to hurt me much, much more.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “I don’t want a relationship.”
“Right. So, the way I see it, because we’re both clear on that, we should have a look at these rules.” He brought out a sheet of paper and laid it between the plates of food.
“You brought the rules with you?”
“I did.” A spark of mirth played in his eyes. “Now, I think, personally, we could get rid of this one.” He pointed. “We must not give meaningful or sentimental gifts. Well, I gave you flowers today. I doubt that made you fall in love with me.”
“Well, no.” It had been nice, though.
He crossed out the rule.
“This one.” He jabbed with a finger. “We must not have deep, meaningful conversations late at night.”
“That’s sensible, surely?”
“There have been times when I’ve literally stopped myself talking to you in the evening, which feels so weird. Even friends are allowed to talk late at night.”
“Fine, fine!”
“I think we should get rid of this one, too. ‘We must not have physically intimate, non-sexual moments like brushing hands or touching each other’s faces.’ I think that’s kinda tricky because it almost heightens all the touches that happen by accident.”
“Right. I guess that makes sense.”
He crossed that one out vigorously, including the words “one touch” that I’d underlined about a million times.
“The other rules, I think we can keep.”
“You’re still not willing to nurse me back to health, huh?” I asked with a wry smile. “And we’re still counting to five when we look into each other’s eyes.”
“Okay, well I’m definitely not taking care of you when you’re sick, but I’ll cross out the eye contact thing. I’m fed up of counting to four and a half and then looking away.”
I snickered.
“Also, I think we can write a couple of new rules,” said Ethan.
“New ones?”
“Number one,” he said, “we’re allowed to go on dates. Dates don’t mean that we’re in love. It means we’re having fun.”
My heart raced. “I actually like that one.”
He wrote it down. “I’ve got another one that’s a bit more controversial. It might blur the lines too much. I want your opinion.”
The server came over to check everything was okay with our food. Possibly because we hadn’t really started eating it yet. “It’s delicious,” I told him. “We’re just a little distracted deciding on the parameters of our relationship, but then I assure you, it’s gonna be all about the bulgogi.”
The waiter gave us a polite but confused smile and retreated.
“I think that I’d like to be exclusive,” said Ethan.
My heart soared at his words, a giddy smile spreading across my face.
“Now, I’m not saying that you had any plans to date anyone else, or that I did, but—”
“Ethan McCoy, are you asking me to go steady with you?”
He chuckled. “I guess I am. But I realize it’s slightly strange seeing as we aren’t, you know, in an actual relationship.”
“It’s quirky.”
“Quirky?”
“To say the least.”
He pulled away. “We don’t have to.”
“Oh no, I want to.”
“You do?” His smile was broad and genuine. “I had a bunch of cue cards written up with supporting arguments.”
“Hang on, I thought you said Cole was the dweeby one.”
“I’d gladly be called a loser if it means we can be exclusive.”
“In that case, loser, the answer’s yes.”
There was nothing dweeby about the way he leaned over the table and kissed me. He claimed me with his lips, making me sigh and swoon, and feel like my tummy was about to melt into goo. We kissed until we were both breathless, ignoring the knowing looks from the other diners.
“Ethan,” I said quietly. “Your lapel is dangerously close to that hotpot.”
He looked down at the table and laughed. He sat back in his seat again and we grinned at each other like a couple of goofy teenagers.
“This is nuts,” I said. “We’re going to date each other but not fall in love.”
“No, this is nuts,” he replied. And he held up a peanut from his plate.
“Oh my god, is it too late to change my mind about being exclusive?”
“It is, actually. We are now, officially, friends with benefits, who don’t have any benefits with other friends.”
“We should get certificates.”
“Speaking of which, I just want to add one more rule to the list, if it’s all right?”
“What is it?”
“I think it’s even more important that we don’t tell Ava. Is that okay? It would also mean, of course, that we have to sleep in separate beds. No more slip-ups.”
For some reason, this really hurt. Ava and I were getting closer. The idea of keeping what was going on between her dad and me a secret felt kind of strange.
Still, I respected his point of view. And he probably had a point. Kind of. We couldn’t very well tell Ava that we had agreed to have an exclusive sexual relationship. We couldn’t say, “Well, we’re allowed to look at each other for longer now, and we’re allowed to talk about our feelings in the evenings.”
So, if it made so much sense, why did it still make me feel slightly sick?
“Let’s eat,” Ethan said happily. “I need to know whether your spice tolerance has increased after the other day.”
I kicked him under the table.
The evening went on. We drank more, ate good food, laughed, and kissed.
And the whole time it was going on, a little niggle of doubt was worming its way into my mind.
You like him and he doesn’t like you. It’s like Vlad all over again.
I needed a backup plan.