Chapter 9
PIPER
We’re packing up from a successful tutoring session—it’s been a month now and I’m finally starting to get it—when someone calls out across the quad.
“Yo, Prescott!”
“Missed you at the game Saturday,” the guy says. “Could’ve used your eyes on that third-quarter fumble.”
“Saw the highlights,” Ethan replies, and suddenly his whole posture shifts. Shoulders back, stance wider—he looks like he belongs on a field. “Martinez needs to stop telegraphing his throws. Defense read him like a picture book.”
“Right? That’s what I said!” They launch into rapid-fire football speak—defensive formations, pocket presence, things that might as well be ancient Greek. I stand there clutching my laptop, watching Ethan transform into someone I haven’t seen before.
The player finally notices me. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“All good,” I say, though I understood maybe twelve percent of their conversation.
They wrap up with promises to catch up later, and we head toward campus coffee. My mind’s spinning.
“You know a lot about football for someone who doesn’t play,” I observe.
“Yeah, used to play in high school.” He shrugs, but it’s too casual. Forced. “You want coffee? I’ve got two hours before Game Theory.”
“Sure. I’ve got three before Machine Learning.”
CC’s is packed with the usual suspects—stressed pre-meds, art students covered in suspicious stains, that one guy who’s definitely been here since yesterday. We snag a corner table, and I immediately spread out my notes like I’m marking territory.
“So you played in high school,” I press, booting up my laptop. “Why not here? You clearly know the game.”
“It just wasn’t for me.” He pulls out his own computer, the one covered in game studio stickers. “Found other stuff I loved more.”
But the way he said it—like a door slamming shut—I recognize that tone. It’s the same one I use when people ask about Miles.
We work in comfortable silence for maybe ten minutes.
He’s sketching something that looks like a character in armor.
I’m pretending to optimize functions while actually stealing glances at his drawings—and at him.
The way his jaw tightens when he erases something.
How his left shoulder sits slightly lower than his right.
“You’re really good at that,” I say, nodding at his sketch.
“Thanks. Four years of practice.” He adds shading to what’s definitely armor now. “Plus, turns out I can draw for hours without—”
He stops mid-sentence, entire body going still. The change is instant—shoulders squaring, jaw setting, like someone flipped a switch from relaxed to ready-for-war.
I follow his gaze across the coffee shop. A girl with sleek dark hair is at the counter, laughing at something the barista said. She’s gorgeous in that intimidating way—like she walked out of an Instagram filter.
“Shit,” Ethan mutters. But instead of looking away, he watches her with an expression I can’t read.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Just—” He cuts himself off as the girl turns, scanning the shop. Her eyes land on our table and her perfect smile shifts into something sharper.
This is weird. I’ve only seen Ethan confident and easy-going, always ready with a joke. Now he looks like he’s bracing for impact.
She walks past several empty tables to reach ours, and I understand immediately. This is deliberate.
“Ethan!” Her voice is warm but her eyes are calculating. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Paige.” His voice is carefully neutral. “How’s the astrophysics?”
Paige. The way he says her name tells me everything—this is an ex, and not a good one.
“Brilliantly. Just got accepted to the Keck Observatory program.” Her gaze slides to me, cataloging everything from my messy ponytail to my algorithm-covered notebook. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Piper,” I offer, deeply uncomfortable with the weird energy at this table.
“We’re working together,” Ethan says, and there’s something protective in how quickly he explains my presence. “I’m tutoring her.”
“Oh, wow!” Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Now that is new. How nice that you found someone patient enough.” She looks at me. “He can be quite a handful.” She smiles, but it’s all teeth
I bristle at her tone and don’t smile back, but Ethan just leans back in his chair, affecting boredom. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Actually, I’m meeting someone.” She touches his shoulder briefly, and I watch him fight not to flinch. “But it’s lovely to see you’re... managing.”
“I’m thriving, sweetheart.” But even I can tell he’s uncomfortable.
“Of course, you are.” She squeezes his shoulder once more, a gesture that looks affectionate but feels like a warning. “Don’t be a stranger, E.”
She glides away to where a bearded guy in expensive athleisure is waiting. He looks like he does CrossFit competitively and has opinions about IPAs.
Ethan watches them for a beat, then returns to his sketch with forced concentration.
“So,” I say, eloquently. “That was...”
“Yeah.” He's gripping his pencil tight. “That was Paige.”
“She seems...” I search for words that aren't 'terrifying' or 'like she eats men's souls for breakfast.' “...confident.”
He barks a laugh. "That's one word for it."
“You dated?” I venture.
He glances at their table, then back at me. “You really haven't heard the story? It made the rounds last year. Someone even made a meme.”
“A meme?”
“Don't ask.” He runs a hand through his hair, and even frustrated, it somehow makes him look better. “The thing is, she wasn't always like that. When we first met, she was...” He trails off, searching for words. “Sweet. Actually sweet. I don’t know. I really liked her.”
“What changed?”
“I don't know. Maybe nothing changed and I just finally saw who she really was.
" His jaw tightens. "Or maybe she got bored once the challenge was gone.
Once she had me, I wasn't interesting anymore. Short version is we dated for two months, I thought it was serious, caught her with Brody at a party she told me not to come to. Turns out I was just keeping her entertained until she found someone more..” He gestures vaguely at where Paige sits with her new guy. “Whatever that is.”
“Oh.” I fidget with my pen, deeply uncomfortable because this sounds horrifyingly familiar. “That’s... that sucks.”
“Wanna know the best part? She told me I was ‘just filler.’ Her exact words. Like I was a temporary fix until the real thing came along.” He’s still sketching, but now there’s something aggressive about the strokes. “Apparently, I’m great for fun but not for, you know, actual relationships.”
I open my mouth, close it, open it again. Nothing comes out because what do you say to that when you’ve also been someone’s filler for so long?
“Sorry, that was...” He shakes his head. “TMI. You don’t need my relationship drama.”
“No, it’s—I mean, I get it.” The words tumble out wrong. “Not that I—I mean, I haven’t been anyone’s filler. Or maybe I have? But like, in a different way where they didn’t even know I wanted to be filler? Which is probably worse actually, and now I’m making this about me when you’re clearly—”
“Piper.” He’s smiling now, that crooked grin that makes my stomach do things. “Breathe.”
“Right. Breathing. Good plan.”
“You okay?”
“Yep. Totally fine. Just... processing.” I gesture helplessly.
Across the shop, Paige laughs at something Brody says, the sound carrying perfectly to our table. Definitely deliberate.
“We could go somewhere else,” I offer. “If you want to—”
“Nah.” He stretches, and his shirt stretches thin over his abs. “I’m not giving her the satisfaction of running me out of my favorite coffee spot. Plus, the light’s good for sketching.”
“Right. The light.” I fidget with my pen. “Very practical reason to stay.”
“I’m a practical guy.” But his usual easy confidence is still missing, replaced by something brittle.
We try to go back to work, but the atmosphere is different now. Ethan keeps glancing toward their table, and I keep pretending not to notice. His sketch turns darker, more violent—the armor becoming prison bars, the landscape becoming ruins.
“She called you a handful,” I blurt out, immediately regretting it.
He looks up, surprised. “What?”
“That comment about finding someone patient enough. Like you’re some kind of a burden.” The words come faster now, fueled by indignation I don’t fully understand. “Which is bullshit, by the way. You’re actually a really good student. Annoying sometimes, sure, but not a handful.”
Something in his expression shifts, softens. “Thanks, Pip.”
“I’m just saying. If anyone’s a handful, it’s her with that whole ‘I’m so cool any guy would want me’ thing she’s got going on.”
“You got all that from a two-minute interaction?”
“I’m very perceptive. Also, she’s still watching us, so she clearly hasn’t evolved past keeping tabs on her ex.”
He glances over, catches Paige quickly looking away. A real smile finally breaks through.
“You’re right. She is watching.”
“Want to make her really uncomfortable?” The question pops out before I can stop it.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I could laugh at something you say. Make it look like you’re hilarious.”
“I am hilarious.”
“Debatable, but I’m willing to pretend for the cause.”
He grins, and there he is—the real Ethan peeking through the armor. “You’d do that?”
“I mean, you’re helping me pass Creative Writing. Least I can do is help you win a breakup.”
“Is that what we’re doing?”
“Isn’t it?”
He considers this, then leans forward conspiratorially. “Okay, but you have to really sell it. Like, full body laugh. Maybe touch my arm.”
“Don’t push it.”
“Worth a shot.” He winks, and my stomach does that thing again.
I laugh—genuinely, because he’s ridiculous—and his whole face lights up. Without thinking, I do touch his arm, just briefly, and I feel him relax under my fingers.
“There we go,” he murmurs. “Thanks, Pip.”
I pause, something occurring to me. “Nobody's ever called me Pip before.”
“Really?”