61
Tiffany?” Ethan’s voice is questioning. “You okay?”
“What?” My mind is reeling from seeing Rafe.
“Who was that guy talking to you?” Ethan looks over my head to the spot where Rafe disappeared.
My mouth opens, but no words come out. How could I ever explain my childhood and those teenage years in Las Vegas? Ethan would never look at me the same way again. Would he regret kissing me if he knew? Would he walk away from me like Shelly and Rafe?
Not ready to risk it, I lie. “Oh, just some guy. He asked about the conference we’re going to.”
Easing the badge over my head, I take it off. “I forgot I was wearing this,” I admit as I hold it out. The sun reflects glaringly off its plastic surface, sending rainbow beams of light spinning across our faces.
Ethan removes his conference badge. “I totally forgot, too.” He folds the long lanyard into halves and then quarters before stuffing it in his pocket. “I can’t believe we’ve been walking around like dorks all day wearing these.” He laughs, the sound booming.
I wish I could share in his amusement, but a heavy sense of dread is growing in my stomach. I need to shake off the worry that seeing Rafe has generated in me.
Ethan plucks my badge out of my hand and rolls up the lanyard before placing it in his other pocket.
“What next? How about a drink?”
Still distracted, I nod.
We go to the teppanyaki restaurant in the Japan pavilion, where we order the signature drink, a Violet Sake. Ethan and I are in the bar area, full of families waiting for their tables.
It’s loud, filled with the noise of people talking over one another and the shrieks of happy, overstimulated children. Kids dart in and out of their parents’ legs, avoiding the reaching arms of adults who hope to calm them.
The Violet Sake is made from sake, lime, and purple pear juice. It has an electric purple color, similar to a grape Jolly Rancher. It tastes like a Jolly Rancher too, sweet and fruity. We sit close, knees and elbows touching, heads tilted together, so we can hear over the noise of the crowd and the background music of the bar.
I try to focus on what Ethan is saying, but it’s difficult. My mind keeps replaying the moment when I saw Rafe. What’s he doing here? How crazy that I bumped into him. It seems unlikely that we would be in the same place at the same time. No. This can’t be a coincidence. Rafe’s sudden appearance must have something to do with the weird text messages. But why didn’t he say something? Where did he go? The questions go around and around with no answers to stop them.
Seeing Rafe brought back all those Las Vegas memories. Watching him walk away with Shelly had been one of the worst moments of my life, ranking only below the deaths of my mom and Mr. Chen. I’ve wondered for so long about what happened to Rafe and Shelly. Where they went and if they stayed together. When I picture them, it’s no longer tinged with jealousy. It’s more about hoping Shelly isn’t alone, that she has someone to watch out for her.
It’s stupid, but I wish I had asked Rafe about Shelly when I saw him today. If I could go back to that time and ask just one question, that would be it. Is Shelly okay? I’ll probably never see Rafe again, though. Never find the answers to my past.
Ethan swirls the garish liquid in his glass with his straw, the lemon wedge and sprig of mint on top bumping into the edge of the cup with each rotation. He gives me an assessing look.
“So,” he says slowly, “want to play a drinking game?”
Determined to stop thinking about Rafe, I welcome the distraction. “Sure. What did you have in mind? I doubt they’ll let us play beer pong in here.” I glance around at the crowded restaurant.
“No beer pong.” Amber eyes move lightly over my face, studying me. “Let’s play a game called Assumptions. I used to play it with my roommates back in college.”
“Okay.” I push away my memories. “How do you play?”
“It’s easy. I make an assumption about you. If I’m right, you have to drink, but if I’m wrong, I take a drink. Then we switch, and you make an assumption about me.”
I’m nervous about what secrets this game might uncover, but I agree. “I get it. Let’s play.”
“I’ll start. You hated me the first time you met me.” Ethan’s gaze is steady, daring me to contradict him.
I grimace. “Hate is a strong word—”
He cuts me off. “It’s either a yes or a no, a drink or not. No splitting hairs, Tiffy.”
Reluctantly, I nod and take a long swallow of my sake but add, “I’ve changed my mind since then.”
A lopsided smile plays across Ethan’s face. “Good to hear,” he says mildly. “Your turn.”
I take a deep breath. “You hated me too the first time we met. I was rude to you.”
His eyebrows lift in surprise. “First of all, it’s not fair to repeat the same assumption, but I’ll allow it since this misconception of yours needs to be cleared up. I most definitely didn’t hate you the first time we met.” He pauses and then firmly says, “Quite the opposite. Drink up because you were wrong.”
Shocked into a momentary silence, I try to absorb what Ethan just told me. I really had believed he didn’t like me. This new information makes me view all those initial interactions differently.
After a small sip, I tilt my glass at Ethan. “Your turn.”
“You think I’ve had an easy life because of who my parents are and the sheltered, privileged suburbs where I was raised.” His jaw is tight and defensive.
“No. I thought that when I very first met you, but I don’t now. I understand how it can be a double-edged sword. How the decisions of your family that were made for you, decisions that you had no control over, can be a burden. It can force you into a mold that might not fit.”
I think about Shelly and Brandi, about how scared Shelly was of someday turning into her mother. Let me go, Tiffany. I think about how Ethan wants to be different from his dad and brother, how he wants more than just a life working in the hospital.
What do I want that’s different from what my mother had? The answer comes to me immediately, like it’s been living in the back of my mind, waiting for this question.
I don’t want to be alone.
I want a life filled with people and laughter, a husband, children, and friends. A full table on Thanksgiving, a home with crumpled wrapping paper and toys to assemble at Christmas. Summer vacations road-tripping in a car packed to the brim, heading to sandy beaches.
I want double dates with Melanie and midnight kisses with…Ethan? Is it too early to think about that? We’ve only shared one kiss, but when I picture that hazy future his face is the clearest thing I can see.
But how can Ethan be my future when he doesn’t know about my past? This line of thought leads right back to Rafe, which is what I want to avoid the most.
“You drink, Ethan,” I command.
“That’s fair.” His earlier tension is gone. My answer seemed to satisfy him. He takes a long draw from his sake drink. It’s almost finished now.
“It’s my turn.” What should I ask next? It comes to me, something I’ve been wondering about. “You didn’t think about me much during those five days that you didn’t call after Cleveland.” If I’m being honest, it still bothers me, those five long agonizing days.
A stormy expression moves over Ethan’s face. “Wrong.” His voice is harsher than I anticipated. “I thought about you every day. After being with you so much, it was like being in withdrawal.”
His voice softens. “I missed you. Missed how you close your eyes when you take the first sip of coffee in the morning. Missed seeing the freckles on your nose after your makeup was washed off at night. I missed those see-through white shorts you sleep in. I always knew what color your panties were.” He smirks at my startled gasp. He moves close, bringing his mouth up to my ear. “The pink ones with the cheetah print are my favorite.” His smile curls, lightly brushing my earlobe, and a thrill runs through my body. I’m stunned silent, gaping at him. Ethan leans back and folds his arms over his chest with a satisfied expression. “Since you know I thought about you, take a drink.”
I swallow several sips in a row.
“I get to make the assumption now,” Ethan reminds me. He taps his chin, thinking for a minute, and then smiles crookedly and says, “The kiss earlier today was the best you’ve ever had.”
I pick up my glass and drain the rest of my drink, right down to the bottom. When I slam the empty glass on the bar, it rattles the drinks around us.
“Good,” says Ethan as he polishes off his drink as well. “It was my best, too.”