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I nod, knowing it is. Anatomy, nutrition, all that stuff has always interested me too. But I’ve still got my heart set on being an agent.
“So… lil’ mouse.” Ethan shoves his hands in his pockets, walking around the bed and taking another seat beside me. His arm comes over my legs, and I can’t help smiling as he boxes me in.
It feels good, safe, thrilling.
“What are we gonna do today?” His eyes seem to sparkle, and I can’t take tear my gaze away from his.
My lips flirt with a giddy grin while my pounding head reminds me that I won’t be up for much.
“I’m thinking—” He runs his fingers gently down my arm. “—some carbs, a ton more fluids, and even more rest.”
“Wow,” I croak. “Sounds exciting.”
He laughs, then kisses the tip of my nose. “Stay here. Rest. I’ll be back soon.”
And once again, he’s gone. I close my eyes with a relaxed sigh until images of sisterly glares fill my brain.
“Shit,” I mutter, rubbing my forehead and wondering how the hell I’m gonna walk back into the house today. They’ll slaughter me. Not literally, but they’ll make me feel like crap for not following through last night.
I’m gonna get kicked out of that house, and then I’m screwed.
“Here we go.” Ethan swans back in with a tray full of food and a smile so damn sweet that I’ll be breaking my own heart into a thousand pieces when I hurt him.
I have to get out of this initiation somehow.
Placing the tray of toast beside me, he snatches a triangle and starts munching while I tentatively pick off a corner and nibble it between my lips.
A large T-shirt lands on my head. “Hey.”
I pull the cotton away while Ethan stands there chuckling. “Feel free to put that on if it’ll be more comfortable for you. The bathroom is down the hall, on your left.”
Slipping off the bed, I pad out of the room to relieve myself, then change into Ethan’s monstrous T-shirt. It must be big on him, surely, because it practically touches my knees. Sneaking back out into the hallway, I’m relieved there’s no one else around as I dash back to his room.
He’s on the bed, setting up his laptop when I close the door behind me. He glances up, his smile faltering when he drinks me in, and then he swallows.
For a second, I think I spot pure hunger, but it’s gone so fast I must have just imagined it. A blurry memory of me trying to give him a blow job, then him gently pushing me away, makes my stomach pitch. I busy myself by laying the dress over his desk chair so I don’t have to look at him.
“Can I borrow a pair of socks? My feet are cold.”
“Of course.”
I grab the pair sticking out of his drawer and take a minute to look at the family photo. A young Ethan is standing in between his parents, beaming at the camera. His mother is laughing while his father grins at her. It’s a happy, beautiful moment in time, and my throat swells, thinking about how Ethan will never have that again. His mother will never drape her arm around his shoulders again. He’ll never hear her laughter. He’ll try to remember it, but the sound will inevitably fade.
I know.
Because I can’t hear my dad anymore.
Swallowing, I shuffle back to the bed and pull Ethan’s socks on while lifting my chin at his laptop. “What are you doing?”
“When I’m hungover, I want comfort TV.”
“Oh yeah?” I grab a triangle of toast. “And what’s your comfort TV?”
“Sports movies.”
“Of course.” I laugh. “Let me guess: hockey, right?”
“Not necessarily.”
