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Tori and I both watch as he walks away. And we’re not the only ones—every woman in the general vicinity has her eyes fastened on Ethan’s ass. Not that I blame them. It’s a really great ass. And the way his damp jeans mold to it should be illegal.
“Oh my God,” Tori says the moment he’s out of earshot.
“Don’t start. ”
“Oh. My. God. ”
I take a long sip of my drink. “He’s just a guy. ”
“Ohmygod!”
Now she’s breaking the sound barrier and I put a hand over the ear closest to her in self-defense. “I swear, it’s not a big deal. He saw me struggling with that ridiculous sand castle and decided to help. ”
“Oh, yeah, that’s not a big deal at all. Ethan Frost does stuff like that all the time. ”
“He might. You don’t know. ”
“I think you forget what social circles I run in when I’m home. I do know. And making sand castles with a woman is totally not Ethan’s normal modus operandi. ”
“Oh, yeah? What is?”
“I don’t know. ”
I snort. “The truth is, you don’t know what he does with women. Building sand castles might be the same opening move he uses on every girl. ”
“Seriously?” She makes an annoyed noise deep in her throat. “I swear, Chloe, you could suck the joy out of anything. ”
“Just one of my many charms. ”
“Well, stop it. And let me savor the fact that Ethan Frost is wooing my roommate. ”
“We built a sand castle and he’s getting me a drink. That’s a far cry from wooing. ” But I think of the seashell and the tea bags, of those hot, stolen moments in his office. And wonder if Tori might be right.
“Don’t forget the blender. And the strawberries. The man is obviously interested enough to pay attention to what you like. That’s half the battle. ”
“I didn’t realize this was a war. ”
She reaches over, pats my cheek. “Poor, sweet Chloe. Didn’t you know? The whole male/female thing is always a war for dominance. ”
For the second time tonight I think of Brandon, of lying bruised and bloody when he was done with me. “That’s why I steer clear of romantic entanglements. I’m not much of a fighter. ”
“That’s why you’ve got me. I’ve got enough fight for both of us. ”
Eight simple words, and yet they sum up my best friend completely. More proof that she’s just as screwed up as I am, only she hides it better.
Before I can think of a retort to her very screwed-up relationship analysis, Ethan’s back. He’s carrying a tray loaded with chips and salsa, guacamole, queso, a half-dozen tamales, a plate of fruit, a couple small pitchers filled with mango and strawberry margaritas, and two bottles of Corona.
“Planning on settling in for a while?” I ask, even as I reach to help him unload the tray.
“I am. ” He dips a chip in queso, holds it to my mouth. I open for him automatically, before I can even think about whether or not I should let him feed me.
He grins in approval as he arranges the rest of the stuff on the table. “It’s getting dark, which means they’ll be lighting the bonfire in a few minutes. Then the band will take the stage and I’d rather watch them perform than fight the crowds for another drink. ”
“Good plan,” Tori says, already reaching for a tamale. “Who’s playing?”
He names a local San Diego band that has gotten some major play on the radio stations lately, not to mention a number one video. Tori and I glance at each other, surprised. We hadn’t been expecting anyone of that caliber—not for a five-dollar admission ticket. No wonder the whole area’s jam-packed.
Ethan fills up my glass, then Tori’s, before settling back with his beer and a taco. I expect things to be awkward—we’ve never actually tried to make nice social conversation before—but somehow everything just seems to flow. We talk about the fund-raiser, how awesome the weather’s been, a new movie we all want to see. It’s nice. Relaxed. Fun, just like Ethan promised it would be.
