Page 16 of A Certain Step (Midnights at Pemberley #1)

ETHAN

W illa was wearing an oversized, dark-heather Muppets T-shirt that covered her like a mini-dress and a pair of black cycling shorts. It was the exact outfit she’d worn during their first rehearsal.

Ethan couldn’t keep his eyes off her then. He failed even more miserably today.

Something about it was hotter now—more intimate and familiar. He watched as she grazed her pearly-white painted fingernails against the marble counter, waiting for the kernels to finish popping in the popcorn machine. He prized these quiet moments with her.

He didn’t care how dramatic he’d sound when admitting that the thought of not having time alone with her made him feel like he couldn’t properly recharge.

Unwinding with Willa was Ethan’s favorite place to be outside of the stage.

He knew he was staring at her, thankful she was leaning against the counter, eyes fixed on their impending snack, her mind evidently elsewhere.

Part of him knew he should stop, but he couldn’t .

Ethan could gape like this for hours, take her in like she was a novel discovery every time.

The physical and the emotional. The way she had smiled when he walked in.

The gorgeous curve of her ass, the exposed part of her neck showing because of the high, messy bun holding her long hair together.

He wanted to wrap his arms around her, hold her tight, and scatter kisses all over her pretty face.

He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked and confess what that outfit did to him.

He’d never do anything Willa didn’t want him to, but he couldn’t suppress his imagination from running wild.

The machine came to a halt. She dumped the finished product into a large Ziplock bag, sprinkled Old Bay seasoning and a little pepper on top, then shook the entire thing. She tossed everything in an orange bowl and finally looked over at him.

“What do you want to drink?” she asked.

“Whatever you’re having,” he answered.

She sighed softly. “But I’m not drinking alcohol; my uterus is on a mission to murder me. So, I took meds.”

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” He asked without a second thought.

“Think you can somehow go back to the dawn of time and magically make it so periods don’t exist?”

He chuckled. “That one might be out of my hands. But I’m serious; if there’s something I can do, I’ll do it.”

Her smile was so soft that his heart galloped in his chest. “You’re an angel. Anyway, what do you want because I know you’re not going to want tea?”

He made a face that he was sure was unattractive. “Water then,” he replied.

“Mate, drink for the both of us, please.”

He shook his head. “I’m good with water. ”

She poured him a glass, and he took it from her.

Ethan ambled over to the couch and sat down, then Willa handed him the bowl before plopping herself cross-legged beside him.

“Look, I’m not ready for Peaky Blinders to end, but after this, we’re doing something light. Rewatching Schitt’s Creek, or I don’t know, Brooklyn Nine-Nine. No dramas for at least a month,” she commented.

God, she was adorable.

“Except when we have news of The Bear’s return,” he rebutted.

“I appreciate that you’re finally acknowledging it’s not a comedy.”

He chuckled. “You made valid arguments.”

She winced slightly, and if he hadn’t been so in-tuned to her every move, he might not have noticed.

He hated that she was in pain. No wonder she’d been quieter today.

He had discerned it when he first came over, but he didn’t think anything of it, assuming it might’ve been from yesterday, which he shouldn’t continue prying on.

They were initially supposed to meet at his place, but she’d called, said Sahar was going out, and asked if he’d come over instead.

He chanced another glance at her. He supposed it was a good sign that she seemed invested in the first few minutes.

However, she grew silent when the episode opened and apart from the initial reactions, her responses were minimal, unlike Willa, at all.

There were no audible gasps or comments here and there.

After a few short minutes, her head fell against the cushion, angled to his shoulder. He leaned closer, letting her head rest there for as long as she needed. He debated pausing the show, but that would require reaching toward the other side of her and potentially waking her up.

If she fell asleep, then she must’ve needed it.

He looked toward her, pretty pink lips slightly open, her soft breathing, creating a melody he could drown in. Musicians wrote songs about moments like this; poets etched such memories into the sacred parts of their beings. They held them there forever, immortalizing the emotions through words.

Ethan had no words, but he felt like he could rupture.

A few minutes passed—fifteen, maybe, judging by the scene changes on the TV screen—and her head moved, her eyes popping open with a sudden jolt.

“Crap, did I fall asleep?”

He smiled down at her. “You did, yeah. I didn’t want to wake you, figured you needed it.”

She placed her hand in front of her mouth, covering a yawn. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

She didn’t say anything; she merely gazed at him, her eyes searching his for something he wasn’t sure he could give but wanted to.

Fuck it all. He wanted to hold her. He would’ve stayed there all night if she hadn’t woken up. Okay, no, he would’ve gently nudged her to at least go to her bed so she’d be more comfortable, but still.

He wanted to pull her to his chest.

“I don’t know.” She settled herself back against the cushion, eyes reverting to the TV. She rewound to where she last remembered, looking up at him one last time before pressing play.

Minutes later, Willa laughed heartily at a scene, repositioning herself at the same time and curling her legs behind her.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

The mirth lessened, a smile lingering in its place. “My uterus is still choosing violence, but I’m okay.”

They stayed unmoving for the next thirty-five minutes or so.

Her eyes darted toward h im after she pressed stop on the remote.

Goddamn, her eyes—the hypnotizing flecks of gold shimmering from underneath the perfect shade of russet—enamored him.

They were so different indoors, darker but comforting nonetheless.

What if he said something? What if he just laid it all on the table, here and now, at this very moment? What if he confessed to feeling something more? Would she run? Would she tell him he’s mad and that she only sees him as a friend?

He knew her rules—he wasn’t an exception to them.

“That was so good,” she said, undoubtedly referring to the episode.

His attention returned to the fictional world. “Yeah, it was,” he managed to say.

She smiled, moving slightly from what he noticed was a vibration near her side of the couch.

She picked up her phone, opened it, and excitedly typed something out, then set it back down. “Alex and Anna got the house they’d been looking at! They can finally move out of his crappy flat,” she mentioned.

“They did? That’s great,” he added.

She reached toward the bowl of popcorn, still relatively full because he refused to touch it while she was asleep, and they hadn’t finished when they resumed. She took a handful, popping them into her mouth.

He needed to get his mind off all the ways he wanted to get closer to her. He didn’t want much. Not at this moment, at least, but he would’ve given anything to simply have her in his arms.

“Is your family going to visit anytime soon?” he asked, pushing every other thought away.

She nodded with a big grin. “Yes, Mum and Dad are coming during the week of my birthday. Alex and Anna in either November or December. ”

“Nice. Are you excited for them to see the show?”

She grimaced. “Oh, Dad won’t be coming anywhere near it. My father is very much an Armenian man in that regard and doesn’t need to see me grind against a ladder. Mum will be coming, though.”

He arched an eyebrow and laughed. “Fair point. Anyone else from your family?” He’d only met her cousin Ben and his wife, Violet, very briefly when they’d attended a show in Boston.

She popped three more pieces into her mouth, chewed, then spoke. “Possibly. Emma really wants to, but it’s so hard for her to take proper time off. We’ll see. I’m not sure about anyone from my dad’s side. They aren’t big theatre folks.”

He nodded along. Willa had met most of Ethan’s family, except his sister, who hadn’t been to a performance yet because of her schedule.

He wanted to know so much more about her, see the streets where she grew up, the places where she hung out.

He’d been to London before, but he wanted to experience it through her eyes. He wanted to be there with her.

“Ethan?” she called out.

He broke himself from the gaze he must’ve held. “Hmm.”

“You zoned out. Tired?”

No, just thinking about you, he thought . “A little. Is Sahar not coming home tonight?”

“She’ll come. Probably later. She doesn’t stay over at the prick’s anymore.”

If he didn’t get off this couch and go home, he was sure he’d lose it. He stood up to leave, holding his hands out for her. She rose to her feet, meeting him at eye level. “Let me grab us lunch tomorrow. Tell me what you’re craving.”

She tilted her head. “You’re the best, but you don’t have to do that.

“Either you tell me, or I’ll get us one of everything from all our favorite spots, and then you’ll wish you made a choice. ”

She jokingly shook her head. “Why are you like this?”

“My mother raised me well,” he answered.

She smiled proudly. “Damn right she did! Patty is a queen.”

“She sure is. Now tell me what you want.”

She bit her lip in thought, eyes narrowing. “Fine, Jacob’s Deli. The usual but extra pickles.”

“You can have my pickles, weirdo.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, Ethan, you’re the weirdo. Something isn’t right with your taste buds.”

He made an unappealing gagging sound, prompting her to punch his shoulder playfully.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining. You get extra pickles because of me every time.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Fair, but when you insult them, it’s personal. It’s war, Everett. We are no longer best friends; we’re sworn enemies.”

“It’s bedtime for you. The theatrics are coming out. Save it for tomorrow’s show.”

She laughed heartily. “Will do. Now, get out of my flat.”

“We’re in New York, it’s an apartment.”

“It’s a flat. ”

He smiled wide, leaning in to take her into his arms. “I won’t insult pickles in your presence again.”

She held on just as tightly. He didn’t want to let go.

“Yeah, you will, but thanks for being a gem about changing plans,” she added.

They parted from each other. “Of course,” he replied.

He walked out, the scent of her perfume still lingering in his nose. The feel of her in his arms reverberated through his entire being.

On his walk over to the station, he opened his phone multiple times to text her.

God, I want you more than anything. Delete.

My chest hurts every time we separate. Delete.

I can’t believe you fell asleep on me li ke that.

I hope you do it again, but not because you’re in pain.

Delete. I think I love you. Delete. I know I love you. Delete.

He almost wished someone would bump into him and force him to accidentally hit send. That way, he wouldn’t be such a coward. He would own up to his feelings.

I want to turn back around and kiss you.

Delete. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.

I’d give anything for you to want me like I want you.

Delete. I miss you already. Delete. I could still smell your perfume, it’s like a damn perfect garden.

Delete. I love that T-shirt you wear. It reminds me of the first day we met.

Delete. What would it take for you to want me like I do? I’d do anything. Delete.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

He could erase it all in writing, deny it like his life depended on it, but the feelings would grow tenfold still.

Ethan Everett loved his best friend, with every bone in his body.