That part wasn’t unusual. She thought she saw him everywhere these days. But that was usually a quick glimpse out of the corner of her eye, disappearing as soon as she turned her head. Now he was still there even when she looked away and looked back, moving steadily through the crowd toward her. Grey was frozen to the spot. Had she actually wished him into existence, trying in vain to keep him out of her thoughts when she’d blown out her candles?
Only when he was close enough for his all-too-familiar scent to hit her did she allow herself to believe he was really there. She was too dumbfounded to do anything but stare at him.
As if his presence weren’t enough on its own, she realized with a jolt that he was wearing his navy blue T-shirt with the threadbare chest pocket. The same shirt he’d been wearing that day in Palm Springs, the one he’d pulled over his head in a flash before slipping into bed with her for the first time. Was it on purpose? Were all the details of that day, and the ones that followed, etched in his mind as indelibly as they were in hers?
He seemed overwhelmed by the sight of her, too, shifting his weight, his eyes skittering to her face, then away again. She was dimly aware that people were staring at them, but she was glued to the spot.
Finally, he spoke.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing here?” She meant to sound accusatory, but the question came out as pure astonishment.
“I wanted to wish you a happy birthday,” he said as if it were obvious.
“How did you…”
His head turned toward Kamilah, cuddling with Andromeda on the other side of the backyard. Grey’s face must have clouded over, because he quickly interjected, “Don’t blame her. I was the one who reached out to her.”
Anger flared in her stomach anyway. “You reached out to her, but not to me? Did you lose my number or something?” People around them were beginning to stare.
He shifted his weight. “Can we talk somewhere else?”
Grey made a quick calculation. There were too many people inside the house for the living room to be an option. But her bedroom was obviously out of the question. “Fine. Let’s go out front.”
—
AS ETHAN FOLLOWEDGrey through the back door into the kitchen, he instantly regretted all the nights they’d spent at his place, that sterile, impersonal prison he’d created for himself. Her house was cozy and charming; not cluttered enough to be maximalist, but still bursting with color and texture on every wall and surface. He wanted to ask her to slow down and give him a chance to take it in, examine every book on her shelves, every print on her walls, every Polaroid on her fridge. Each object another clue to help him unravel her further. But all too soon, they were out the door and in her front yard.
She stopped abruptly and turned to face him, crossing her arms. He stopped, too, the look on her face warning him to keep his distance.
“How’s your ankle?”
“It’s fine. Why are you here?” she repeated without missing a beat.
“I missed you.” At first, that seemed to be the right thing to say, her expression softening, but then she turned her face to the ground. When she spoke again, there was something aching in her tone.
“You could’ve texted me. You didn’t need to go behind my back and, like,conspireto show up and blindside me.”
“I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me. You tried to leave before I woke up. You broke the contract. I was just trying to feel out the situation. I’m sorry if that was the wrong thing to do.”
She was silent. The faint sounds of laughter and pulsating bass drifted over from the backyard, sounding like they were coming from a different world.
“It was too much. I couldn’t handle it. The pictures…the whole weekend…everything. I thought it would make things easier if I didn’t. If we didn’t.”
“So you were just ready to go the rest of your life without ever talking to me again?”
She looked back at him.
“I thought that was what you wanted. Not to get too close.”
He shook his head in frustration, jamming his hands into his pockets.
“I didn’t want you to break the fuckingcontract,Grey. Without even talking to me first. I thought this meant something to you.”
“It did. Itdoes.” She covered her face with her hands and groaned, her next words coming out muffled. “It means so much that it scares the shit out of me. That’s why it’s good that we…that it ended when it did. It needed to happen before we got in too deep.” Her hands fell back to her sides.
His heart leapt, then plummeted. They fell back into silence for a moment.
