The words hung between us. He wasn't asking about Liam.
"Ethan—"
"I need you to hear what you just described to me." His voice was quiet. "You got drunk. You were out of control. And something happened."
"It's not the same."
"Isn't it?"
"No." My voice came out harder than I intended. "He took care of me. He said no when I—" I stopped. The sentence catching in my throat because—it was the same.
Ethan leaned forward with his elbows on his the table.
"When you what, Alex?"
Silence. The couple by the fireplace laughing about something. The barista calling a name. The ordinary world going on while mine contracted to the space between two armchairs.
"I came on to him," I said. Barely audible. "While I was drunk. And he stopped me."
Ethan sat back. His face unreadable for a long moment. Then something loosened—not relief exactly. More like the tension of bracing for a blow that didn't land.
"He stopped you," Ethan repeated.
"Yeah, because I was too drunk for it to mean anything." My eyes were burning. "He was more careful with me than I—" I couldn't finish. Because the end of that sentence wasthan I was with you.And Ethan already knew that.
The silence stretched. Both of us sitting in the wreckage of a parallel that neither of us could pretend wasn't there.
"So he did the thing I wish you'd done… cared about me," Ethan said. Simply. Without venom. A fact.
My chest caved in.
"Yeah," I whispered.
Ethan didn't pick up his cup. Didn't nod. Didn't move on. He sat there. Looking at the fire. His jaw working. The silence between us thickening into something that had its own weight.
"You know what's funny?" he said. Not laughing. "When you came to my room that night—I spent weeks thinking there was something wrong withme. Like I'd given you the wrong signal."
"Ethan, I—"
"Let me finish." His voice was steady but the edges were sharp. "It wasn't about me. It was never about me. You didn't come tomy room because you wantedme.You came because I was there and I was gay and you were too scared to face what you actually felt for Liam. I was convenient."
The word landed like a slap.Convenient.
"That's not—"
"It is. And that's almost worse than if you'd actually wanted me." He looked at me. The firelight catching the wet in his eyes that he was refusing to let fall. "Because at least if you'd wanted me, it would have meant something. What you did meant nothing. I was just the nearest body."
I couldn't breathe.
"So here's what I'm hearing, Alex. When you're drunk, you can be honest about what you want. But you lose control."
The Meridian was empty now. Just us. The barista had disappeared into the back.
"So what's changed?" Ethan asked. "Since my room. What's actually different about you?"
"I—" I started. Stopped. Started again. "I don't know."
"That's not good enough."
