I blinked. “No. I did not.”
She turned her phone toward me. A golden retriever puppy and a fluffy little cheetah were flopped on top of each other.“Wanna watch TikToks of baby cheetahs cuddling with their emotional support puppies?”
Yes. I did.
***
We were deep down the rabbit hole of baby animal friendships when a knock sounded at the door. “Stella! Stella, are you there?”
Stella and I stared at each other. “I swear I didn’t text him anything.”
But maybe not texting had given us away; maybe everyone else had responded in the negative. My chest felt both heavy and hollow, and my ears buzzed in a way that seemed to slow the world down. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s fine,” I said faintly. “I don’t even know why I ran away. I have to face him—everyone—at some point.”
As though in a fog, I crossed to the door and swung it open. “Hi.”
Ethan stood there, arm raised and poised to knock again. He breathed heavily, as though he’d been running (though from where? His car to the door?), and his eyes widened, like he hadn’t expected to find me. “You’re here.”
“I am,” I agreed. In case, I don’t know, he needed verbal proof.
We stared at each other.
Creeping shame burrowed its fingers through me. I couldn’t believe I’drun. Like a child. I should have stayed, I should haveborne the brunt of whatever conversation occurred, I should never have gone off like that in the first place—but I had, and now Ethan thought I was an idiot and a fool and the kind of mean, stupid child who was willing to throw her father’s career away.
I didn’t want to threaten Dad’s chance of getting a grant. I just wanted to stand up for Andrea Darrel.
“We should talk,” I said abruptly. I leaned back into the room. “Thanks, Stella. We’re gonna go for a walk.”
“Okay.” She popped her head out. “Let me know if you need me. Hey, Ethan.”
He nodded at her, and then we headed down the hall and out of the building. I led him across the street from Stella’s, where a grassy trail led into deep woods. Around us the trees shot up tall and lush, dark green moss dampening their bark.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have run. I was overwhelmed.”
“Heshould be sorry,” Ethan said immediately. “Gibson. He was a jerk.”
My gaze shot toward him. “What?”
“He shouldn’t have been so patronizing.”
“You thought he was patronizing?”Ithought he’d been patronizing, which should have been enough, but I felt weirdly validated Ethan agreed.
“Yeah, of course. He called you sweetie and said you were emotional.”
I ducked my head. “Yeah.”
We were silent a moment. “You should let your dad know you’re okay,” Ethan said. “He’s really worried about you.”
And after I had spent all summer trying to make himnotworry, trying to prove myself adult and capable and not messy. So much for that. “He’s probably really disappointed, huh.”
Ethan looked at me curiously. “Disappointed about what?”
I gave a little shrug, as though that lessened the impact. “In me. At my behavior.”
Ethan frowned. “I don’t think he was disappointed. I think he was worried. And confused.”
