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16.As much as he would probably deny it now, he’s a romantic.
I wonder whether there are two very different sides of Ethan, or I’ve just never looked much deeper than what Dane and Ami have told me about him all this time.
Remembering the way he froze when he saw Sophie on our way back to the hotel, I ask, “Had you seen each other since then? Before—”
“Before dinner with Charlie and Molly? Nope. She still lives in Minneapolis. I know that. But I never saw her around. I definitely didn’t know she was engaged.”
“How do you feel about it?”
He taps his finger on the edge of a stick and stares off into the distance. “I’m not sure. You know what I realized on the boat? We broke up in July. She said they met while he was stocking school supplies. That’s August? Maybe September? She waited a month. I was such a mess after—like big time. I think a part of me thought we might actually get back together until I saw her at the hotel, and it all hit me at once that I was being totally delusional.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, simply.
He nods, smiling at the ground. “Thanks. It sucked, but I’m better now.”
Better now doesn’t necessarily mean over her, but I’m kept from asking for clarification when shots ring through the air, too close for comfort. We both jump, and Ethan pushes himself up to peek over the edge while I stumble to stand next to him. “What’s happening?”
“I’m not sure . . .” He moves from one side of the enclosure to the other, watching, his finger resting on the trigger.
I clutch my own gun to my side, and my heart is pounding in my ears. It’s just a game, and I could technically surrender at any time, but my body doesn’t seem to know that it isn’t real.
“How many shots do you have left?” he asks.
I was a little trigger-happy at the start of the game, firing off in random bursts without really focusing on aim. My gun feels light. “Not many.” I peek inside the hopper,
where four yellow balls roll around in the plastic canister. “Four.”
Ethan opens up his own hopper and drops two more into my gun. Footsteps pound on the dirt. It’s Clancy, still shirtless and nothing more than a pasty, skin-colored blur. He fires off a shot and ducks behind a tree. “Run!” he shouts.
Ethan reaches for my sleeve, tugging me away from the wall and pointing toward the woods. “Go!”
I break into a sprint, feet pounding against the wet ground. I’m not sure if he’s behind me but I race for the next tree and duck behind it. Ethan slides to a stop across the clearing and looks back. A single player is just wandering around.
“It’s that big, mouthy kid,” he whispers, grinning. “Look at him all alone.”
I peer into the woods around us, uneasy. “Maybe he’s waiting for someone.”
“Or maybe he’s lost. Kids are dumb.”
“My ten-year-old cousin built a robot cat out of some gum, a couple of screws, and a Coke can,” I tell him. “Kids these days are way smarter than we were. Let’s go.”
Ethan shakes his head. “Let’s take him out first. He only has one life left.”
“We only have one life left.”
“It’s a game, the object is to win.”
“We have to sit down the entire drive back. My bruised ass doesn’t care if we win.”
“Let’s give it two minutes. If we can’t get a shot, we’ll run.”
I reluctantly agree and Ethan motions for us to cut through the trees and surprise him on the other side. I follow closely, watching the woods and keeping my steps quiet. But Ethan is right, there’s nobody else around.
When we reach the edge of the small clearing, the kid is still there, just hanging out, poking at sticks with his gun. Ethan leans in, his mouth next to my ear. “He’s got a fucking headphone in. How cocky do you have to be to listen to music in the middle of a war zone?”
I pull back to see his face. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
His smile is wide. “Oh, yeah.”
