Page 77 of When Darkness Calls

“You aren’t going to drink it?” I ask motioning to the cup.

“No. I was only going to have one since I’m driving. Gotta make sure I get you home in one piece. Although, I did think you would be drinking more than just that?” He raises his brow. “Do you not drink?”

My weight shifts from foot to foot as I purse my lips, thinking of how to answer.

“I do? Sometimes? Just not a lot. I usually only have one and call it.”

Ethan’s mouth lifts in a teasing smirk. “Are you a light weight, Dani?” He comes up to me, hand finding the same path as before around my back and settling low on my hip. His fingers grazing the edge of my shirt like he’s hoping they’ll slip under the hem again.

Unease nestles under my collar. I try to lean out of his grasp, but his hold tightens. The can creaks beneath my grip, condensation mixing with the cold sweat on my palms.

“Yeah…Something like that.”

We walk—he drags me—around the warehouse to different places preaching something about “the best places to watch”. At some point I finish my Dr. Pepper and he takes the empty can and throws it in the trash along with the untouched beer.

And the night continues. Him talking loudly over the crowd about how none of the fighters are really good fighters, they’re messy and uncoordinated, relying on brute strength and questionable sobriety to secure the wins, and how there was only one fighter he was interested in watching. Or about his friends who are well connected. Or how he has ways of getting whatever he wants which is “so, great” for me because it means I’m lucky to know him? Whatever that means.

“You know, you’re exactly the kind of person I hoped you would be,” Ethan says in my ear. His nose was tickling along my hairline.

Through all of his monologuing and rounds around the floor, his touches have grown braver, more purposeful, nothing at all like the small, subtle grazes he has made in the past. But the compliment is nice…I think.

I lean in. “Really?”

He nods, the motion brushing my hair, then I hear the sharp rush of air as he breathes deeply, the tip of his nose trailing down the edge of my ear to the small space below it.

I don’t like this.

All at once, it’s as if every bad feeling I’ve had today comes flooding in, growing and growing in strength.

I pull away slightly, looking at him. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen a real change in his expression. It’s not the easy going smile, or the teasing smirks, or the attentive look he holds when we’re at school. Ethan’s pupils are blown wide and there’s something like a manic gleam just below what I think is supposed to be a look of adoration. But it’s just so wrong.

It’s all wrong.

I step back out of his arm. Wrong move.

In the next blink, his arm shoots out, palms clasping hard around my waist, pulling me flush against him in an ironclad hold.

I gasp, my own palms coming up to his shoulders, pushing back. “What the he—”

“You’re quiet and thoughtful, but you know when it’s your time to speak. Most of the time anyway. You’re a great listener, allowing me to talk without feeling the need to interject your own nonsense into the conversation. You’re smart in the way you need to be without it overshadowing my own intelligence. It’s really perfect honestly. And yeah, you might not be exactly what a guy like me should be going for physically, but at least all your extra weight is distributed much more nicely than it could be. You still have the best kind of curves. I’m very happy to have run into you like I have. And I know we have so much fun to look forward to.”

Words evade me.

What the actual fucking hell kind of shit is he spewing right now?

This is…

Fuck, this is insane. I could never have expected this to come out of his mouth. Sure, maybe he would’ve turned out to be a spoiled brat, maybe even the same kind of self-centered as Issac, that I could deal with for a night. But this?

An icy hot, fiery liquid pours over me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Every muscle in my body tenses at the abrupt change in anxiety and fear into unfettered rage.

And Ethan notices.

His eyes narrow, raking down my body in his hold. His hand tightening even more like he can tell I want to flee.

I swallow back the taste of ash on my tongue, forcing a painful, placating, demure, smile. “I’m so sorry. I think someone is texting me. Do you mind if I…”

He lets me go slowly, dipping his chin, still watching me intently.