HANNAH
He’s an imposter. That was my first thought when I saw him standing in front of the class as myprofessor.
This man, the one wearing a button down shirt, neatly tucked into his fitted navy slacks, adorned with a belt and matching leather shoes, wearing a wrist watch. Yeah…a watch. A watch that keeps actual time. Dane knew nothing of time in Paris. He didn’t care about it.
So yeah, I’m fully sold on the fact thatthis manis the evil twin ofmyDane. The difference with this twin is his sleek, clean haircut, which looks just as good as the shoulder length shaggy mess he pulled off before. This style still shapes his shark-fin jawline with utter perfection providing him with an even more tailored, sophisticated look.
Evil Twin Dane’s hands fist Ethan’s shirt as Ethan pushes forward, grabbing his neck and flips him around, pinning him against the wall. They’re both expelling an anger from deep in their bones and the tension between them sets me on edge.
Dane lets out a strangled grunt as Ethan slams him again, back into the same spot he was just in, then wraps his hand tighter around his throat, pushing hard into the soft flesh of hisneck. “Don’t. Don’t fucking do that.” Ethan’s pained voice matches the pain behind Dane’s eyes and I can see how much they are both struggling.
“You lied to us. You tricked us,” Ethan whisper-snarls.
Dane raises his arms; at first I thought he was going to push him away, but his hands freeze at the side in surrender.
“I never lied.” His response is labored and raspy from the tight hold but his words are clear.
“No?” Ethan tilts his head, his gaze menacing. “You didn’t buy out the hostel to trap us there with you, to seduce us just to throw us away whenever you were done with us.” Dane’s face falls. His eyes bounce between Ethan’s eyes then to mine and they’re laced with guilt.
“That’s what I thought,” Ethan says, tightening his grip.
The deep pink flush you only get when you’re struggling for air paints Dane’s face. His expression is both stunned and sad, like he’s giving up and letting Ethan take what he needs.
“STOP!”I repeat slamming my open hand on the other.“STOP!”
Ethan can’t see me so I rush forward pulling him off Dane. I cup his face to turn his gaze to mine and the anger pooling in his eyes fades the moment he focuses on me.
He relents, stepping back, leaving me in between the two of them.
Turning my attention back on Dane, he’s leaning over, his hands pressed into his knees for support, slouching forward in defeat as he tries to catch his breath.
He finally stands to his full height, his chest still heavy as he runs his hands over the sides of his head, pushing back the short strands of his hair.
I need this class. I need this credit to finish my MBA and I can’t have anything get in the way of it. I’m so close and I’ve worked too hard.
Ethan needs it too, he just doesn’t care about it as much as Ido. His father is forcing him to do this, while I’ve dreamed about it for years.
My eyes plead with Dane as I walk toward him. Looking up, our eyes connect and I can seemyDane again. He appraises me with admiration and a softness I felt in Paris and it makes my heart flutter.
“I need this class,”I sign, feeling vulnerable. He hurt me. He hurt us. But I can’t have anything get in the way of this. Taking a deep inhale, I squeeze my eyes shut before opening them with even more desperation.
“We won’t bother you or say anything during your lectures. Just let us stay in this class and get our credits. Please. Let’s just forget what happened. Forget Paris.”
“It’s impossible to forget,” Dane huffs the words out in a whisper so low, it’s like a confession to himself. He stands to his full height, teetering his head from side-to-side as his palm roams over the column of his neck, massaging the marks Ethan left from his tight grip.
“Forget Paris?” he asks, looking at us, like the thought is unfathomable. I see the sadness, the Dane I knew. The one with the messy manbun and free spirit. The one that felt like he was all in with me, with us.
“Forget everything,” Ethan bites back as he reaches for my hand, slipping his fingers in between mine then leads us toward the door. “Hannah needs this credit. Stay out of our way and we’ll stay out of yours.”
32
ETHAN
Imeant what I said when I told him to stay out of our way. But, I hate that he’s actually fucking listening to me.
In Paris, it was like he didn’t have ears. He constantly pushed my buttons, threw me out of my comfort zone—like he’s never heard of what a boundary line is—and challenged me every moment he could.
But here, he’s done exactly what I told him to.
