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I shake my head back yes, we are.
He stares.
I clear my throat. "Is there anything else?"
"Whatever Ethan said about you two being casual is bullshit. He cares about you."
Maybe. I press my lips together. "I've seen him in a hundred pictures with a hundred different women. Ethan doesn't have trouble separating love and sex."
"Hmmm."
I can't take it anymore. "I loved Ethan more than I've ever loved anyone."
"Then don't hurt him again." Mal's deep eyes get intense and protective.
He really believes I'm careless with Ethan's feelings.
Fuck him.
I stare back at Mal. "I didn't want to hurt Ethan when we broke up the first time. I didn't want to leave. He didn't give me another choice. He had nearly two years to get me back, but he never did as much as send me a text."
Mal says nothing.
"Maybe I did hurt Ethan. Maybe I destroyed him. But you know what? He destroyed me too."
Mal, that fucking asshole, just stares back at me, his deep blue eyes mysterious and impenetrable.
"I'll keep your fucking advice in mind though, Mal. I'll try not to break his heart. But why don't you warn him to be careful with my heart?"
Right on cue, there's a knock on the door. Probably Mal's fuck buddy. He gets to enjoy his casual sex without the third degree. He gets to win over a few thousand people when he steps on stage. He gets his pick of conversation, dance, or fuck partners wherever he goes after the show.
He doesn't have to deal with any of this don't break Ethan's heart bullshit.
"Yeah?" Mal calls to the door.
"You in there, Vi?" Ethan taps his fingers against the door. "Want to warm up my hands the fun way."
Mal cringes. Ah, thank goodness for minor victories.
He opens the door for Ethan. His eyes go to mine. "You're right. But think about what I said anyway."
I clench my teeth and dig my nails into my thighs. My a-line cotton skirt is thin enough it stings. Fucking asshole.
Ethan looks from Mal to me. "What'd he say?"
There's nothing but earnest affection in Ethan's blue eyes. He wants to know why I'm hurting. I want to tell him. I want to collapse in his arms and show him every place I hurt.
Hell, I want to rip open my chest, hand him my broken heart, and beg him to sew it back together.
But I can't.
He's the reason I'm suffering this third degree.
He doesn't understand that he forced me to leave. He doesn't understand that he pushed me away when I needed him to pull me closer. Until he
understands that, this is staying casual. Even if that kills me.
"Vi, what did he say?" Ethan kicks the door closed and slides his arms around my waist.
