‘I was upset,’ I tell him, understatement of the year, ‘and I wanted to apologize for the things I said.’
At last, he looks my way. Something I said pushed a button and from the way he’s glaring at me, not a good one.
‘What about the things you did?’
I dip my head, hair falling in front of my face. I deserve that.
‘And the things I did. I shouldn’t have …’
What, thrown myself at him like we were the last two people alive?
‘I shouldn’t have,’ I say again, a complete sentence this time. ‘I don’t know how it happened, you were probably a little drunk or something but we can pretend it didn’t.’
‘Like last time?’
Ethan leans against the door to his bathroom, his back to a cool-looking poster for some old movie that wasn’t there the last time I was in here.
‘Why would you think I was drunk?’ he asks.
‘Because.’
Because of the things you said. Because you couldn’t possibly have meant them. Because you called me beautiful.
‘It’s fine, Mia, you don’t have to worry about it.’ Ethan stands up straight, almost as tall as the door to the bathroom. ‘I won’t try anything again, you made yourself real clear, and I get it, I do. I’vebeen a willing rebound more times than I can count because I fit the bill, right? Dumb jock who only wants to fuck? Why would someone like you consider anything more with someone like me? You’re too good for me. A revenge lay is the only thing you could ever be interested in.’
I open my mouth to speak but instead my jaw hangs open, no words coming out. I’m too good for him? Of all the inconceivable things he’s said so far, that one has to be the most absurd.
‘But for the record, there’s no bet, it isn’t a game. I haven’t spoken to Gabe or any of the others in months. What I said last night, I meant it. All of it.’
‘How could you think I’m too good for you?’ I press my fingertips into my temples as though I might be able to squeeze some sense out of myself. ‘You’reEthan Taylor.’
‘As if I could forget.’
I have no idea what’s happening. My best-case scenario for this conversation was Ethan laughing in my face and agreeing to never speak of it again. Worst case? Ethan laughing in my face and never speaking tomeagain. What I didn’t expect was whatever this is. I drive the heels of my hands into my eyes because pressing my temples didn’t do a damn thing and I need a more direct route to my brain.
‘I’m trying to give you an easy out,’ I say, sparkles appearing in front of my eyes. ‘But if that’s not what you want—’
He slaps his palm against the bathroom door, and I jump.
‘It’s not what I want!’
‘Then what do you want?’
He lets out a growl, something between a sigh and a groan loaded with frustration. The same frustration I’m feeling right now.
‘How many times have you told me I don’t know you?’ Hepushes his hair back from his face and looks at me. The coldness in his eyes has been replaced by a desperate fire and I grasp the windowsill behind me with both hands.
‘You’re half-right,’ he says. ‘I don’t. But I’m trying to. But if you really, truly believe I would mess with you for a bet, you don’t know me either.’
The air in the room feels dense, like it’s something solid holding him in place. And it’s hot in here. I’m too warm in my long skirt and sweater, the fabrics too rough against my suddenly sensitive skin.
‘So, I don’t know you, you don’t know me, and neither of us has any idea what the other wants?’
Ethan’s gaze is so heavy, so intense, I can feel it boring into me.
‘You want that jerk in the leather jacket.’
‘I thought I did,’ I admit. ‘But I was wrong.’
