“This wasn’t the plan.” I groan. “The plan was to avoid him, not challenge him to some kind of weird costume duel. You just invited Miles to the party. The party where we’re supposed to be avoiding him.”
“He was being a condescending asshole.”
“So you invited him to hang out?”
Ethan finally looks at me, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, okay? Something about him just... the way he talked about your work. Like he did you some favor by being your friend. It pissed me off.”
The knot in my stomach tightens. “Maybe he did. I’m not exactly artistic. That’s just how Miles talks,” I mumble.
“Bullshit. No, that’s how assholes talk.” Ethan sets down the bubble wrap, turns to face me fully. “Piper, I’ve seen your work. It’s not just functional—it’s elegant. The way you solve problems is creative. Just because it’s not super visual doesn’t mean it’s not art.”
My throat feels suspiciously tight. All those years of Miles’s ‘constructive criticism,’ of feeling like the technical grunt to his creative genius...
My throat feels tight. “Why do you care?”
“Because—” He stops, pops a few bubbles on the wrap he’s holding. “Because you’re my fake girlfriend, and fake boyfriends defend their fake girlfriends’ honor. It’s in the handbook.”
“There’s a handbook?”
“Absolutely. Chapter three covers costume competition warfare.”
Despite everything, I smile. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously committed to destroying your ex in a costume battle.”
“He’s not my ex.”
“Whatever he is, he’s going down.” Ethan holds up a roll of aluminum foil
“He made me throw away my favorite hoodie,” I say suddenly.
Ethan blinks at the non sequitur. “What?”
“The pizza stain one. He spilled coffee on it ‘accidentally.’ Said he was doing me a favor.” I pick at a loose thread on my sleeve. “I’m starting to think he just didn’t like that I was comfortable.”
“Because comfortable Piper didn’t need his approval?”
I look up, startled by how accurately he’s pinned it.
“Maybe,” I admit.
“Well, for what it’s worth?” Ethan gives me a lopsided grin. “I think comfortable Piper sounds pretty great. Pizza stains and all. Though, that is kinda gross. You could’ve just washed it.”
Something warm unfurls in my chest. “Thanks.”
“Now come on, let’s make you something awesome.”
We go back to shopping, but I can’t shake the weird feeling in my chest. The way Miles talked about our old projects—was that how he always saw me? As someone who needed fixing?
“Hey,” I say quietly, “do you really think my work is creative?”
Ethan looks at me like I’ve asked if water is wet. “Pip, you’re self-building an entire dating app algorithm based on compatibility matrices you invented. That’s not just creative, it’s genius.”
“It’s just code.”
“The Sistine Chapel is just paint.”
I duck my head, weirdly emotional. “Thanks.”
