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Yeah, and it needs to stay that way, I thought, stomach knotting. As much as I’d been deflecting and thinking that I could do it forever, Ethan was proving that he wasn’t as oblivious as I expected. I wasn’t going to get off the hook that easily this time.

I scoffed and kept walking. “What’s wrong with a little mystery, Ethan?” I said, not missing a beat.

“Where do you even live?” he asked. “I don't think you've ever mentioned it.”

Most people didn't bother looking past the surface. They saw what they wanted and moved on.

Not him.

Ethan was trying to get to know me, but really knowing me wasn't an option, and it was my own fault for being stupid enough to keep this charade going.

“Close to the water, near Fremont,” I replied, praying he’d roll with it.

Ethan smiled, and we continued to walk. “Fremont, huh? Artsy and quirky, that suits you.”

I’d clearly scratched whatever itch he’d had, and my shoulders dropped a little.

“You could say that. I like the sound of the waves.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, casual and unbothered. “It helps me sleep.”

Technically true. If you count drifting through the kelp forest at the bottom of the Sound as sleeping.

Even the slightest bit of truth had felt surprisingly good, and an awful feeling rose within me to come out with it. To tell him everything that had happened to me.

You can't do that, I thought. You know you can't.

“You're right, though. Maybe I do like being mysterious,” I said with a forced lightness to my voice.

Ethan turned and placed his hand on my shoulder, my breath catching at his touch.

“Or maybe you just don't trust me yet,” he said, the light catching his emerald eyes.

The statement was simple, but had no air of accusation or wounded ego. Just the quiet observations of a man who cared and saw something deeper in me than I wanted him to.

“I'm here, aren't I?” The words came out breathy and softer than I wanted. More honest than I had any right to be.

You’re being careless and selfish. My thoughts needled at me.

Ethan's expression shifted, and a warmth flickered behind his eyes, tightening my throat. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You are.”

Neither of us spoke, keeping our eyes pointed out at the water. The pier stretched on in front of us, and the distant cry of seagulls mixed with the lap of water against the pilings soothed something inside me.

The weight of repressed longing and words I couldn't say pressed against my ribs as I stole a look at him. Ethan smiled, small and simple, letting the moment pass, and I was beyond grateful for it.

“Anyway, when you’re not being mysterious, what do you like to do? I talked your ear off about my reading and writing already.”

After seeing him go on and on about books the other day, reading made so much sense for him, but the fact that Ethan was a writer surprised me. He hadn’t mentioned that before, and the way he fumbled over his words so much made me smile, thinking of him writing poems and stories.

“I like to read too, when I get a chance.”

Another lie, but I leaned into it because what the hell else could I tell him about me? “Back up, you’re a writer? I’m listening…tell me more.”

I really was intrigued, but it was also a perfect deflection—a growing talent that I shouldn’t be as proud of as I was.

Ethan’s face went red. “Well, yeah, I write poems and fantasy mostly.” He kicked a crushed Starbucks cup as we passed it by. “You strike me as someone who would like reading fantasy or romance,” he said, glancing at me sideways.

I grimaced. “I'm not big on fantasy.” I looked him in the eye. “...or romance. Helpless princess waiting to be saved? Hard pass.” I shrugged. “I'm more of a horror girl, I guess.”

Way to shut it down, I thought, even though I hated anything that put distance between us.