I shut the door behind me, doing my best not to make a sound. My parents turned off their light twenty minutes ago, forcing me to wait for Will. But he never sleeps. Once I hear his PlayStation turn on, and the sound of bombs penetrating the wall we share, I creep down the back stairwell. Almost every night I repeat the same routine.
A small part of me likes sneaking around with Ethan because of the risk involved. It’s exciting. Being with Ethan is unlike any other experience I’ve had with a boy. Well, he’s not a boy. Ethan is a man now.
Ethan never treats me like Will’s little sister. He knows better than anyone my brother is way too protective of me. The first time Will caught Ethan staring at my lips for longer than normal, he went ballistic. Ethan never looked at me again that way—at least not in front of Will.
When I reach the shed, Ethan’s on his usual swing, staring down at his feet. My heart aches at the sight of him. He looks so depressed. I instinctively crouch in front of him and wait for him to raise his head. Our eyes meet, the electric current flowing between us sends a chill down my spine.
“Hey,” he says under his breath. His eyes are red-rimmed and glassy.
“Hey, yourself.” I grab his knees to stabilize myself, and Ethan clasps my wrists with his calloused hands. A brush of heat dances along my skin, making me dizzy from the simple connection between us.
I take in his manly scent, a hint of laundry detergent mixed with cloves, and stare into his green eyes. A strand of shaggy brown hair falls over his forehead, giving him an unkempt look I have come to appreciate. He’s the hottest guy in the neighborhood. Hell, Ethan Waters is the hottest man in the city. And he’s here with me, of all people.
“Why do you look so bummed?”
He shrugs, still holding onto me. “My dad. You know, the usual.” Ethan turns his head to the side, the moonlight hitting his tanned skin just right. Ethan releases his grip on me and touches the scar above his left eyebrow. He winces, something he does all the time as if what gave him that scar still haunts him.
Ethan and his parents have issues, about what, I have no idea. He likes to make jokes about bad situations where I tend to shut down. Sometimes, my family can hear the Waters screaming at each other from the other side of the fence. Mr. Waters is an asshole of the highest degree. If Ethan as much as slacks off at hockey practice, loses a game, or gets less than an ‘A
’ in school, he gets a lashing from his father. Anything less than perfect is unacceptable.
Ethan says his father is only trying to toughen him up, but I disagree. Though, I’m here to listen, not to tell Ethan what to do. That’s why our arrangement works so well. He talks about hockey, school, and his parents without any judgment from me. The only topic we never discuss is girls, and I prefer to keep it that way for my sanity. I would go crazy knowing if my crush has any interest in girls who are not me.
I get up from the crouched position in front of Ethan and sit on the swing next to him. “I’m here if you want to talk about anything.”
He turns his head, so our eyes meet, and a hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I’d rather hear about your day. Tell me something good.”
Ethan starts all of our conversations the same way. No matter how bad of a night he’s having, he always wants to know more about me. I love that he puts me first. In fact, I love everything about Ethan. But he’s off-limits. My brother would never understand our relationship, and my parents would have a fit given our three-year age difference.
On occasion, my mom makes comments about the way I look at Ethan. She’s even more concerned about the way he looks at me as if I’m the only person in the entire room. School used to suck, and so did the catty girls who tormented me daily until Ethan took care of them for me.
The first time we hung out was an accident. I was crying on the swing set when Ethan came rushing outside in a fit of anger. He’d had another fight with his dad, who was piss drunk and yelling obscenities out the door. Ethan heard me sniffling back tears and wanted to know what made me cry.
He was so sweet and nothing like the rough and tough hockey player when he pulled me into his arms and let me cry against his chest. I confessed the trouble I was having with the girls at school, who never bothered me again after that night. Ethan wasn’t my older brother’s best friend anymore. No, he became so much more to me.
When I don’t respond right away, he repeats, “Tell me something good.”
“Other than being here with you?”
I blush ten shades of red from my cheeks to my chest.
What’s wrong with me? I’m never this forward. The words fell from my lips before I could stop myself from saying them aloud.
Ethan gives me one of his boyish grins that cause my heart to skip a beat. “Just so you know, Mia, I like talking to you, too. Sometimes, I feel like you’re the only person who gets me.”
I grab hold of the metal ropes, the nerves bubbling up in my chest. “What about my brother? Don’t you talk to him?”
“I don’t know. Will says stupid shit that doesn’t help the situation anytime I try to talk to him about my parents. And you know how he acts when it comes to hockey.”
“Like he’s too good for everyone.” I make it sound like a joke, though I mean it.
The right corner of his mouth curls up as he winks at me. “Yep. He’s such a cocky bastard.”
“You’re better than him, E. But don’t tell him I said so.”
What had started out with writing M + E in my notebook soon became his nickname. Ethan never corrects me when I call him E. Sometimes he calls me his little lamb because he compares himself to a wolf, though I don’t find him the least bit scary. I love having this special connection with him.
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You think so?”