Ethan #2
Her grin widens, heavy with a tease, as I hold her gaze. I can’t shake the thought from my head: two hours left before we leave Calysto’s Beach, and I’ll likely never see her again. Especially after she turns in her two weeks’ notice.
With a rough exhale, I flash her one of my own. “Think nothing’s opened this early. Besides the donut shop—”
“Ooh. I could go for some donut holes.”
“Something about the glaze-to-donut ratio?” I tease, and her face softens with a laugh.
“Exactly.” Strands of her hair ribbon with the breeze as she grins at me. “But after I get a picture.”
“Of the sunrise?”
“Of us. With the sunrise,” she corrects, wriggling her ass against me as she slides her hand to her back pocket, only to frown a beat later. “Crap. I must have left my phone back at the hotel—”
“Allow me.” I retrieve mine, eliciting a loud whoop from her as she smushes her cheek to mine and grabs the front of my shirt.
“On second thought,” she begins, “we look like we pulled an all-nighter. So let’s just take a generic picture of the beach at sunrise—” She splutters when I snap a photo. “Ethan.”
“Yes, Barbie?”
“I’d like a nice picture with you.”
“This is a nice picture,” I say.
“A nicer one,” she says with a playful pout. “Pretty please?”
Exaggerating a put-upon sigh, one that makes her giggle, I extend my arm out. “All right. For you.”
She leans into me again, stray locks of her hair fluttering against my shoulder as I prepare to take a selfie. “Wait. Turn on live mode. You look so much better in motion.”
“Gee. Thanks,” I utter in response, my tone dry, and she smothers a laugh while I toggle the feature on. “Ready?”
“For donut holes after this?” She bursts into giggles when I turn my head and bring my face closer to hers. “What are you doing?”
“Making this a really nice picture,” I explain, and I steal the rest of her dorky laugh with a kiss she melts into.
As we head out of the coffee shop, Java Hut, with Cuban espressos, bagels, and a bear claw, Barbie wordlessly arches a brow.
I mirror her expression.
She comes to a stop and narrows her eyes.
I do the same.
She folds her arms across her chest and shifts her weight onto one leg.
I’m holding a small tray with said Cuban espressos, bagels, and a bear claw precariously stacked on top, so I tip my head toward it instead. “Don’t tell me you’re upset we got the last bear claw.”
She spares me another cool look, this time lifting her other eyebrow. I can only raise my left one, so I’m unable to mirror her again.
“Okay, you were right,” I say finally, and the corner of my mouth twitches when she squints at me. “They did not have donut holes. Just delicious coffee and freshly fried bear claws.”
“It’s times like this that I wish I had my phone on me,” she deadpans, “to record this momentous occasion where Ethan—middle name to be announced—Carter finally admits once and for all that I’m right.”
“It’s Tadeo. My middle name’s Tadeo.”
“Tedious?” she gasps. “It is quite a fitting name.”
I ignore her cheeky smile. “And I’ll make it up to you.”
“By…” She peers up at me from underneath her long lashes, feigning innocence. “Letting me have the final say on the cover sheets?”
“Cute, but no,” I reply flatly. “You can have the last bear claw.”
“Cute,” she mimics, “but I already called dibs on it.”
“Cute, but I paid for it.”
“Cute, but we both know you were gonna give it to me, anyway.”
“Cute, but I can always change my mind.”
“Cute,” she drags out the syllable as she brings both hands to her chest, “but you won’t.”
Amusement lights up her eyes as she fights to maintain her composure, managing to go three seconds before she doubles over and cackles unceremoniously into the bend of her arm.
I don’t even fight the grin when her dorky goose honk-snort makes an appearance.
“Ugh, I wish we had another day together,” she says, trekking ahead of me across the park en route to the hotel. “Or a couple of hours to do something else.”
“I mean, our flight’s not until noon.” I fall into step beside her. “We have an hour until we leave for the airport.”
“Two hours,” she says. “Our flight’s not until one.”
“It’s noon. I should know. I checked the boarding pass last night.”
“So did I. Mine says—” Her words stop short as we exchange glances. “Oh.” Like last time, it’s another startling punch to the gut. It doesn’t have to be stated. We don’t have the same flights heading home.
A tense weight hangs heavily between us in the silence that follows.
Her head dips, her gaze dropping to the cobblestone ground. “I had a really good time with you, Ethan Tadeo Carter,” she murmurs, a lingering note of sorrow in her voice. “If you’re ever in LA, for whatever reason that might be, hit me up, so we can have a fruity drink.”
“And if you’re ever in Oregon—”
“I’ll meet up with you after you swear not to drag me to a bazillion hiking trails?” she says. “Wait. You don’t have my number. Let me give—” Her attention slices to the tray in my hand. “How about we do this back at the hotel?”
“Honored to be the first guy you give your number to.”
A soft, creaky laugh escapes her. “As crazy as this sounds,” she says, her eyes going soft as they meet mine, “I’m really going to miss hanging out with you.”
There’s a slight pang in my chest at the genuine, unwavering vulnerability washing over her face. “Me too.” I swallow past the lump lodging in my throat. “But I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“At seven-fifteen, as always?” she says with an amused curve to her lips.
The answering grin slides across my face in an instant. “At seven-fifteen on the dot.”