Page 64

Story: Master of Pain

I pause, not turning around.

“Her name is—was—Caroline,” I say, a tightness in my chest.

It’s quiet, but his hand is still on my shoulder. I can’t even get the words “she’s dead” out of my mouth, even if that’s pretty fucking obvious.

“I gotta shower.” That’s all I say before I step forward, breaking free from his hold and disappearing into the bathroom.

I let the hot water and steam ease the tension out of my body for twenty minutes or so. By the time I step out, dry off, and pull on my boxers, I’m feeling pretty damn good knowing Ethan is still in my bedroom.

“So should we go for some coffee, breakfast maybe?” I suggest. “Before class.”

I look to the bed, but Ethan isn’t there.

For a split second panic flashes over me, until I see him standing by the window, dressed in his clothes from the night before and scrolling on his phone.

“Go out?” he asks as he looks over at me. His eyes fall down my body and back to my face. Warmth floods those pretty orbs before he walks over to me.

“Yeah. I mean, I know you’re notout, but I wanna take you for breakfast.”

Ethan smiles, but then his face falls and he chews at his lip. “Well, I don’t know if I’m ready for going out to a restaurant, but to the coffee shop, sure.”

“Got it.” I move to pull on the rest of my clothing—dark jeans, a button-up shirt, and my leather jacket.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with you,” he explains, his brow knitting.

“I know,” I say. “You just don’t wanna be seen on a date with a guy right now.”

Ethan sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not ready. I’m still processing it in my own head. I can’t handle taking on other people and their opinions right now.”

I laugh as I’m buttoning my shirt, and then step over to place a hand on his neck. “Ethan. I said, I know. It’s fine.”

“Really, you’re not bothered by it?” he asks, looking up at me like a nervous little puppy.

I shrug. “Sure, I want people to know you’re mine, but if you aren’t ready, that’s okay.”

He’s suspiciously quiet, so I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”

“Am I yours?” he asks. “You haven’t asked me, and I haven’t asked you. There have been no official terms or agreement.”

I blink at him. “Terms and agreement? What, do you want me to draw up a contract?” I snort.

Ethan’s face turns red and he looks away from me. “I’m serious.”

I sit down to put my socks on, then scoot closer to him. “Okay, Serious. What do you need me to do?”

“Well, I asked Lena to be my girlfriend,” he explains. “But that was after a couple dates. We haven’t been on a single date.”

“No, we haven’t. Mind you, there hasn’t been much time for that, with all the car bombs, blood rituals, fucking, an’ all that,” I remind him. “Plus, you aren’t ready to be seen with me yet.”

He groans and puts his face in his hands. “I know, I know.”

“You’re not mine then, is what you’re saying?” I ask, my voice low, a tightness in my throat and chest.

He swallows and shakes his head. “No, I…yes. I don’t know. I’m notnotyours, but…none of this is how I always planned for things to be. You meet someone, you chat, you go on dates, you become official, you get engaged, you get married, you have babies,” he rambles.

“You forgot, you meet awoman,” I remind him. “All that shit is stuff you thought when you thought you were straight.Maybe how you do things isn’t the same as you thought you were supposed to.”

Ethan takes a breath. “You’re right.”