I listened to Ethan sigh in his sleep and thought about everything he told me the night before. I wondered how he had reacted when someone came to him and told him both his parents were dead. I wondered what went through his h
ead when he realized he was alone. He had been so young, too. He still was really—only nineteen. Freaking nineteen. I wasn’t sure if I could cope with that or not. I started weighing all the pros and cons of this whole situation in my head.
Pros: he was really sweet and kind; he seemed very intelligent; he could have a difference of opinion, state his case, and not be mad or nasty afterwards. One definite pro—he was absolutely gorgeous, and his smile counted as doubly gorgeous, his eyes maybe triple. He also had great taste in books.
Con: he couldn’t read them.
Was that really a con? I took a mental step back and reconsidered. When I didn’t make any headway on that at all, I tried thinking about some other disadvantages.
Cons: he had dropped out of college, and my friends were going to think I’d lost my mind. They were going to roll their eyes, hope I just wanted to fuck his brains out for a while, and wait for me to move on to a “real” relationship. Dad was going to hate him.
That was a big one. If I told him who Ethan’s parents were first, then prepped Dad on Ethan’s appearance before he actually met him, there was a slim chance he wouldn’t completely freak out about the piercings, tattoos, and total lack of a real job. His friends in the slums could never, ever be mentioned.
This was not going to be easy. Back to pros.
Pro: kissing him was absolutely mind-blowing. I almost wanted to get my own lip rings.
Con: he had baggage, no doubt about that. I really didn’t want to hold that against him. It wasn’t like he could help what happened to his parents. He obviously had felt a lot of guilt over it at one time and maybe still did on occasion. Fault or not, guys with baggage were known to be troublesome.
Pro: foot masseuse. Definite, mind-blowing pro.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” Ethan’s unexpected voice shocked me out of my inner ramblings.
“Oh! You startled me!”
“I’m sorry,” Ethan said with a sheepish smile.
“You don’t look sorry,” I commented.
“You’re cute when you’re jumpy,” he said and then laughed.
“You’re cute when you’re sleeping,” I said, and I reached up to kiss the end of his nose.
“I liked waking up and having you here with me,” he said without warning, his tone suddenly serious. “It feels right.”
His words spooked me, not because he said them, but because I felt them, too.
“How did you get that scar?” he asked suddenly. He reached up and traced the edge of my lower lip.
I shivered and pulled back a little.
“Bumped into something,” I said quickly. “Not a big deal.”
“What did you bump into?”
“I don’t remember,” I lied. “It was a long time ago.”
He scowled for a moment, then smiled as his cheeks flushed pink.
“I gotta get up,” he said.
I rolled to my side, and Ethan squirmed out from under me and the blankets before rushing off to the bathroom. I rubbed the tip of my finger over the tiny, practically unnoticeable scar on my lip and swallowed hard.
Ethan was in the bathroom for a while, and I started to wonder just what the hell he was doing, but he finally came back out.
“You go ahead and take a shower or whatever, if you want.” Ethan motioned to the master bath. “I put out some stuff for you, including some clothes. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it is,” I said, wondering where he found clothes while in there. It was a big bathroom, but I didn’t think it was quite that big. “That’s very thoughtful, actually.”