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Maybe last night—while it was amazing—was a mistake after all. Is that what Ethan thinks? I have too many questions swirling through my head. Most of them, I’m not sure I want the answers to.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” I timidly ask, unsure of what he’ll say.
He meets my eyes, then begins to pack. We do need to get going because we have a long drive ahead of us.
“If you want,” he finally responds.
Ethan’s not the type to ever push me into having a conversation, and I like to respect him the same. But I’m not sure we can push this under the rug, especially when it’s already this awkward between us. I need to make this right. Otherwise, it’s going to be a long-ass drive home.
Five hours of silence and tension might make me lose it.
“We were both drunk and got caught up pretending,” I offer, wondering if that’s what he wants to hear. I have no idea where his head or heart is, but Ethan nods in agreement. At the base of what happened, it’s the truth. We got carried away.
“I don’t get drunk and fall into bed with just anyone,” I add.
“I know that, Harper.” He zips up his duffel bag.
I sigh, my head throbbing even harder. I feel deflated and stupid. “I don’t want you to think less of me after last night.”
He stops what he’s doing and zeroes in on me. I wish I were a mind reader and knew exactly what he was thinking.
“I would never think less of you. But you’re right. We just got caught up in the moment. All the fake fiancé stuff and alcohol didn’t help.”
Placing my hand on my heart, I let out a relieved breath. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known better.”
“It’s fine.” He offers a small smile, but I can’t tell if it’s forced or not. My mind spins, and horrible thoughts take over. I’m two seconds away from crying, but I don’t want to seem emotional or crazy. I just understand exactly what’s at stake right now—our friendship.
“Please promise me that this won’t change anything between us. You’re my best friend, and I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life. Can we go back to being friends? Pretty please?”
He sits on the edge of the bed and slips on his boots. “I promise, Harper. We should probably get goin’.”
It’s officially been five days since Ethan and I had mind-blowing sex, and as much as I haven’t wanted things to change, they have. Each night when I close my eyes, I replay the way he looked at me and devoured me. I’ve never felt the way I did when we were together and wish I hadn’t said anything the day after, but now it’s too late. He’s avoiding me. And I don’t know if that’s because he really wished it didn’t happen or if what I said hurt him. Either way, I hate not seeing or talking to him.
My skin still burns where he touched, and I can still feel him days after. It’s undeniable how my body responded to his and how we fit together like two long-lost puzzle pieces. For once, I was complete. Being with him felt right, but regardless, I’ve tried to erase the memory. Nothing that I do helps. It was undeniably the best sex I’ve ever had.
I’ve tried to drown myself in my work, not that it’s too hard. There were plenty of orders to catch up on. All week, I’ve worked myself to exhaustion, hoping to fall asleep at night, but it hasn’t helped.
The only person on my mind is Ethan.
Our text conversations have been short. The tension is sharp, and I have no idea how to fix it or if it even can be. It sucks because I miss him so much.
I miss him like I miss the sun during winter.
I miss our stupid conversations throughout the day.
I miss my best friend.
As much as I didn’t want things to change, they did, and now I’m so damn lost without him. Unfortunately, there’s no going back. There’s no pretending it didn’t happen.
Hadleigh texts me to check in when she can because she kinda knows what happened, but I have nothing new to report.
This is a reminder as to why I’ve always suppressed my feelings when it came to him. One of my biggest fears was that we’d date and break up and then never speak again. If the only way to have Ethan Bishop forever was by being his friend, it was enough. I learned over the years to appreciate what we have, and I’ve always cherished it. Now that it’s gone, I realize how much of a mistake this weekend was. And it’s all my fault.
I’ve found myself on more than one occasion scrolling through old text messages, wishing we could go back to the way we were before. Hell, even going back to pretending to be engaged is better than this. At least then we seemed happy.
