Troy groans softly. “Oh god.”
A red-haired guy is striding toward us, all cheeky grin and zero shame, arms spread like he’s about to stage-dive onto the abandoned toilet block. He’s in a UMS hoodie with baggy shorts.
“Who the hell is that?” I mutter.
“Ethan.” Troy sighs. “Ignore him and maybe he’ll go away.”
But Ethan doesn’t go away. He practically skids to a stop beside us, tossing an arm around Troy’s shoulders like they’re in a romcom montage.
“What are you doing here?” Ethan asks, eyeing the rotting building like it personally betrayed him.
“Project,” Troy says. “It’s for the FIDIC competition.”
Ethan pulls a face. “Fi-dick? Feed the dick? That the one where nerds fight to the death over solar panels?”
I raise a brow. “Something like that.”
He finally turns to look at me. Blinks once. Then grins wider. “And who’s this? She doesn’t look like someone who willingly hangs out in a condemned piss palace.”
“Delilah,” I say flatly.
“Delilah,” he repeats, longing out the—lilahhh. “Cool name. Slightly intimidating. You guys hooking up, or...?”
I sputter. “What—absolutely not!”
Ethan looks like someone who was born to crash parties. Red hair, smirky mouth, tall in that lanky, athletic way. He’s... objectively good-looking. That easy, natural kind of hot that comes with knowing everyone in every room likes you.
Not that I care.
Also, not as handsome as Troy.
Not that Troy’s handsome.
He's just... symmetrical.
Which isn’t the same thing.
Troy smacks his arm. “Jesus, Ethan.” He’s just standing there, perfectly relaxed, sunlight catching in his hair like some cinematic mistake. Shirt sleeves pushed up. Smudge of dirt still on his cheek. He looks… fine.
Fine in a way that is absolutely not relevant to this conversation.
Ethan, meanwhile, is looking between us with far too much interest. “What? Just trying to set the scene.” He steps back, dramatically gesturing to the broken walls, the cracked pavement. “Beautiful ruins. Subtext. Tension. Feels like a moment.”
“There is no moment,” I say quickly.
“Sure,” Ethan winks. “Just ignore the chemistry. I do it all the time. I’m actually sensing some here, Delilah. Are you?”
Before I can come up with a sufficiently scathing response, Ethan turns to me and gives my shoulder a light, solemn pat.
“Shh. No need to explain yourself,” he says kindly. “I’m taken, anyway.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
“By a woman named Paige,” he adds, then glances at Troy. “Who is way too good for me, by the way.”
Troy rolls his eyes. “You’ve known her for two months.”
“And it’s been the best two months of my life,” Ethan fires back. He turns back to me, still grinning. “Anyway. Carry on with your sexy public-urinal flirtation. I’ll leave you to it.”
