A small part of me likes sneaking around with Ethan because of the risk involved. It’s exciting. He never treats me like Will’s little sister.
When I reach the shed, Ethan’s on his usual swing, staring down at his feet. My heart aches at the sight of him. He looks so depressed. I instinctively crouch in front of him and wait for him to raise his head. Our eyes meet, the electric current flowing between us sends a chill down my spine.
“Hey,” he says. His eyes are red-rimmed and glassy.
“Hey, yourself.”
I grab his knees to stabilize myself, and Ethan clasps my wrists with his calloused hands. A brush of heat dances along my skin, making me dizzy from the simple connection between us.
I take in his manly scent, a hint of laundry detergent mixed with cloves, and stare into his green eyes. A strand of shaggy brown hair falls over his forehead, giving him an unkempt look I have come to appreciate. He’s the hottest guy in the neighborhood. Hell, Ethan Waters is the hottest man in the city. And he’s here with me, of all people.
“Why do you look so bummed?”
He shrugs, still holding onto me. “My dad. You know, the usual.”
Ethan turns his head to the side, the moonlight hitting his tanned skin just right. He releases his grip on me and touches the scar above his left eyebrow and winces, something he does all the time as if what gave him that scar still haunts him.
I get up from the crouched position in front of Ethan and sit on the swing next to him. “I’m here if you want to talk about anything."
He turns his head, so our eyes meet, and a hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I’d rather hear about your day. Tell me something good.”
Ethan starts all of our conversations the same way. No matter how bad of a night he’s having, he always wants to know more about me. I love that he puts me first. In fact, I love everything about Ethan. But he’s off-limits. My brother would never understand our relationship.
The first time we hung out was an accident. I was crying on the swing set when Ethan came rushing outside in a fit of anger. He’d had another fight with his dad, who was piss drunk and yelling obscenities out the door. Ethan heard me sniffling back tears and wanted to know what made me cry.
He was so sweet and nothing like the rough and tough hockey player when he pulled me into his arms and let me cry against his chest. I confessed the trouble I was having with the girls at school, who never bothered me again after that night. Ethan wasn’t my older brother’s best friend anymore. No, he became so much more to me.
When I don’t respond right away, he repeats, “Tell me something good.”
“Other than being here with you?”
I blush ten shades of red from my cheeks to my chest.
What’s wrong with me? I’m never this forward. The words fell from my lips before I could stop myself from saying them aloud.
Ethan gives me one of his boyish grins that cause my heart to skip a beat. “Just so you know, Mia, I like talking to you, too. Sometimes, I feel like you’re the only person who gets me.”
