Or maybe some part of him senses I'm keeping something from him. Maybe he knows something's off but can't place what.
Stop it, I tell myself. But my brain's already spiraling.
But I can't risk his showcase. I won't be the reason he fails. Even if it means carrying this guilt for three more weeks.
After the showcase, I tell myself again, like a mantra. Everything will be fine after the showcase.
I'm unlocking my apartment door when my phone finally buzzes.
Ethan
You home? Greg has separation anxiety. Also I may have acquired too much Thai food for one person.
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by annoyance at myself for feeling relieved.
Just got off work. I smell like a deep fryer
Perfect, I love that eau de french fry scent. Be there in 20?
Only if you’re bringing pad thai
I’m bringing the entire left side of the menu
I shower quickly, trying not to think about why I’m putting on my nice leggings and the shirt that makes my boobs look good. It’s just Ethan. Just myboyfriend. Or sort of. I don’t know if we’re using labels. Just the guy I’ve been thinking about constantly for two days.
Shit.
Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock. I open the door to find Ethan juggling Greg, two massive bags of takeout, and a huge bag of popcorn.
“Hi,” he says, and his whole face lights up. “Missed you.”
“It’s been two days,” I point out, but I’m already reaching for Greg to help him inside.
“Longest two days ever.” He follows me in, setting the food on my coffee table. “How was work?”
“Exhausting. How was... whatever you did today?”
“Helped Troy practice his interview skills. Watched Freddie fail at making pancakes. Thought about you approximately every five minutes.” He says it casually, like it’s not making my heart race. “Oh, and I brought popcorn. I thought we could watch a movie. Since you’ve criminally never seen Ready Player One. Best video game movie ever.”
“That’s not criminal, that’s just?—”
“Inconceivable!” He grins at my blank look. “See? Cultural education starts now.”
We settle on the couch with containers spread between us. I try not to notice how he automatically sits close enough that our knees touch. Try not to think about how natural this feels already.
“Sorry I didn’t text much today,” he says, passing me chopsticks. “Troy had a full meltdown about his interview Monday and I was playing therapist.”
All my earlier anxiety feels stupid now. Of course, he was just being a good friend.
“It’s fine,” I say. “We don’t have to text constantly.”
“I wanted to though.” He bumps my shoulder. “Kept thinking of things to tell you. Like how Freddie tried to flip a pancake and it stuck to the ceiling. Or how this squirrel stole someone’s sandwich in the quad and the guy chased it for ten minutes.”
“Thrilling updates.”
“Right? You missed out.” He opens a container of rice “Oh, and I finally got all the beta feedback on my game. Been reworking it all week based on the critiques.”
My chopsticks freeze halfway to my mouth. “How’s that going?”
