Just the mere sight of him folded like a pretzel makes me smile again.
I turn the key in the ignition, slightly disgruntled when it starts right up, and do a three-point turn to head back to campus.
“So, Ethan,” I say, my voice strained at the prospect of small talk as I merge onto the main road. “What’s your major at Michigan State?”
“Business administration with a focus on finance,” he replies, his arm still wrapped around Tatum’s shoulders in the back seat.
B-O-R-I-N-G.
I hum like it’s the most interesting thing I’ve ever heard. “And what do you plan on doing with that?”
“Oh, my father is an investment banker. He plans on bringing me on board to run his mergers and acquisitions department.”
Of course he does.I barely suppress the urge to roll my eyes when Tate places a hand on Ethan’s arm and says, “Ethan’s so smart. He’s always talking business and half of it goes over my head.”
I stop at a red light, watching as Ethan chuckles and leans down, planting a soft kiss on her nose. “That’s because you’re an English major, sweetheart. You're better with fiction than figures.” His tone is light, but there’s an edge to it I don’t like as he pats her hand like he’s explaining something to a child. “Not everyone has the head for real-world economics.”
I grip the wheel harder as I focus back on the road, fighting the urge to defend her and failing miserably. “Did you know Tate graduated top of our class?” I meet Tate’s eyes in the rearview mirror, ignoring her look of warning. “She’s the smartest person I know. She read over two hundred books last year. Crazy impressive if you ask me. She even started a social media account where she shares reviews and videos of the books she reads. Pretty cool stuff.”
“Well, yeah, but they’re mostly romance books, right? I mean, do those even count as books?”
My hands flex over the wheel as I tell myself to breathe. I narrow my eyes, focusing on the road. I might tease Tate about some of the books she reads, but it’s because she’s so damn cute. I secretly adore how much she’s into all that love shit. “What would you call them?”
“From what I’ve seen of some of these so-called bookish videos?”
I nod, unsure I want to hear his answer while Tate stiffens beside him.
“Fluff. Fantasy. Hell, some of it might as well be glorified porn for chicks.”
“Ethan . . .” Tate’s gaze flicks from him to me in the rearview mirror, then away again.
“Honey, you know I think your hobby is cute,” he murmurs, turning to her. “And I love that you have something you’re so passionate about, but let’s be real. It’s not like you’re reading the next literary masterpiece.”
“It’s not just a hobby,” I say, unable to keep my mouth shut when it comes to my girl. “She plans on opening a bookshop after graduation.”
“Bookstores are a terrible investment.” Ethan shakes his head. “Especially with the digital market taking over.”
I open my mouth, about to tell him to fuck off and go to hell when Tate says, “Actually, special editions are huge in the romance world right now. People are paying a lot of money just to get their hands on print runs of their favorite novels with foiled covers and sprayed edges. My shop will have mostly special editions and autographed copies. Plus, everything will be romance themed. I really think it’ll work. Just the other day the owner of?”
“Sure, hon,” Ethan says, interrupting her. “Whatever you want. You know I’ll support it. I think it’s great you have hobbies.”
Thisis the guy she might move for? No. There’s no freaking way Tate’s moving for this asshole. She has to see what a jerk he is, right?
Tate grins like he just hung the fucking moon, and now I want to strangle them both because what the hell is she doing with a guy like him? Didn’t she hear how patronizing he was just now? Is she hard of hearing?
Fuck.
Ethan reaches out and places a hand on her tanned thigh, sliding it a little too close to the hem of her already short as fuckcut-off jean shorts and I want to annihilate him like it’s World War III, and I’m ready to drop a bomb on his ass.
I shift my gaze, and we lock eyes, her pleading with me for understanding, to let it go while I plead with her to choose better—to value herself more than this. Because one thing is clear after spending only ten minutes with the guy.
Even if she doesn’t choose me, she can do a hell of a lot better than Ethan fucking White.
Chapter 6
TATUM
The streetlights flicker through the windows of my little yellow bug as we drive, casting alternating shadows across the dashboard. I’m wedged in the back seat with Ethan, his hand heavy on my thigh, while Brandon’s broad frame fills the driver’s seat, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
