Chapter 18 Hannah
HANNAH
“So, is he going to be okay? I mean, should I go check on him?” Dane asks as he glances at the door for at the least the fifth time since Ethan left.
He’s pulling back the covers on his bed after he paced around the room a bit. I could tell he was doing everything in his power to stop himself from following Ethan out of the room.
Dane is a fixer. He wants to help make anything better. It was crystal clear in the way he handled dinner with those two girls sitting next to us.
Grabbing my small white board from my bag, I write, he just needs some time. Then flip it around to show Dane. He looks back at the door and nods and it’s truly endearing.
He’s been so respectful of me and Ethan—to both of us individually and as a couple—I find myself glaring at the door as if Ethan could sense my irritation with how he’s responding to such an amazing experience.
We all had a great time. I know Ethan did, even though he’ll try to deny it or just completely ignore it for the time being. I’ve never heard him moan so loud or look so satiated after sex, and we didn’t even have actual sex.
My god though, when we do, that’ll probably be like experiencing a total solar eclipse. Rare, cosmic, unreal.
I peer over at Dane and he quickly turns his gaze away as if he were caught staring. He smiles but he has the same somber look he had when he was talking to his friend Kobi at the club today.
I haven’t mastered reading lips yet, but I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation at the table when Ethan and I were dancing and all I got was that I reminded him of someone named Celeste.
I’ve never been one to shy away from open communication, even without my voice, and I want to know more about him.
I erase the words I previously wrote on my white board and write the question that’s been on my mind. Who’s Celeste?
Turning the board around, he glances up, reads it then quickly glances up at me.
“Where did you hear that name?” he asks; his tone is light, defeated.
I point at him, then my lips to signal I heard it from him.
“Ah, at the club.” He nods slowly.
I nod back.
He veers his gaze back toward the ground, then sits on the corner of his bed. I mirror his movements on the bed opposite to him, giving him my undivided attention.
“Celeste,” he says her name almost as a whisper. Like it’s been too long since he’s really said her name with the passion it deserves. A small smile tugs at his lips before he continues. “She was my girlfriend. My best friend. We met in grade school. She passed away almost ten years ago. Cancer.”
He glances back up at me, giving me a foreign smile—one that doesn’t reach his eyes, then continues, “That was a long time ago.”
My hand is covering my heart, like a part of it is breaking for him. I can’t imagine what he went through and at such a young age. He can’t be more than thirty years old so this had to have happened during high school or college.
I hate that he’s minimizing his feelings. I can tell there’s more and I’m sure he doesn’t want to talk about it but I know he wasn’t expecting me to ask. I also hate when people feel like it’s been a long time so they shouldn’t feel it as deeply or strongly as they do.
I cross the space between us, erasing my board and write, Time is relative.
“Yeah,” he agrees and nods robotically.
I write more as he watches me.
Singular.
He stares at the word for a moment before peering up to meet my gaze, huffing out a small breath.
“You’re like a reincarnated Edgar Allen Poe.” I squint, confused at his statement. “ He was a master of words, known to speak with very little volume, intentionally low, so people were compelled to listen,” he smiles at me, “and I’m very compelled to listen to you, Poe.”
My cheeks flush at the nickname and my stomach backflips to my heart. Other than Ethan no one has ever really listened to me since the accident. But Dane, he’s present paying attention to every tick, expression and written word, hearing me fully.
He sucks in a deep breath, looking at the door again. “I think your boyfriend is probably plotting my death,” he says with a light chuckle but I know this is one of the times he’s saying something as a playful joke but half-heartedly means it.
I point back at the first line on my board and he nods again, still smiling. “Ah, yes, thank you Mr. Miyagi.”
Shoving his arm, I smile and he laughs. It seems as if a weight has been lifted off him.
I don’t know if it’s from him telling me about Celeste or from the release of all the sexual tension but this softer side of Dane makes me even more confident in our decision of opening up to him the way we did.
Even if Ethan will take longer to accept it.
Standing, I glance back at the door and see a shadow shift on the ground from the small crack and fight myself to hold back from stomping over there, ripping the door open, and forcing him to sit next to Dane and give themselves the post-orgasm attention they need, but, I take my own advice—giving him time, and climb up the ladder to the top bunk.
“Goodnight Hannah,” Dane says as he crawls under his blanket and switches off the lamp.
I just hope that Ethan gets out of his own head before he misses out on the fun we could be having for the last two days of our trip.