Page 32

Chapter Twenty

It's so cozy in this bed. I can practically feel warm arms wrapped around me, holding me close.

Wait a minute . I can feel arms around me. My eyes pop open. My roommates aren't supposed to be home for a few more days. So who the fuck is in bed with me?

Cautiously, I shift enough that I can turn my head and look without waking whoever it is up.

As soon as I see his face, though, I sag back into the mattress with relief.

"You're back early." I roll into Ethan and brush the hair back from his face. He looks exhausted. "We'd wondered where you were last night."

"On a plane," he answers, still half asleep.

"What happened at home?" Something had to have happened for Ethan to change his plans last minute like this. Not that I'm complaining about having him here. It was lonely in this big house by myself, and now he and I will get to have some quality time together.

"Nothing." He pulls me closer until we're wrapped around each other. Less snuggling and more hugging.

"Are you sure?" I stroke his back as I hold him close. If this is what he needs, this is what I'll give him—that's what girlfriends are for, I think—but he should talk about it if he's upset.

Ethan groans and rolls onto his back, but I'm not letting him off that easy. If he's so upset that he came home from his vacation early, I'm going to be here for him whether he likes it or not.

"You can tell me. I can keep your secret." I follow him across the bed until I'm splayed out across his chest, looking down at him.

"Nothing happened," repeats Ethan. "Nothing ever happens."

"What do you mean?" If nothing happened, why is he home early? Unless he always planned to only go for a couple days and booked a shorter trip without telling his teammates, but that doesn't make sense either.

"I went home to visit, but my parents were still going about their regular life as if I wasn't even there.

And they didn't let my sisters come home from school for the week.

So I figured if they don't want to spend time with me, I might as well be here.

" Ethan stares up at the ceiling, his voice so neutral it's heartbreaking.

Turning his face so he meets my eyes, I say, "Well I'm glad you came home, then, because this is where you belong."

If his family can't see how sweet and caring their son is, that's their problem.

Ethan might be quiet and shy, but he's thoughtful.

He rounds out the atmosphere in the house and he adds to the team.

I've watched his games, and even though I don't fully understand what they're doing, I can tell that he's talented. They all are.

"Thank you," says Ethan, and I think I hear a catch in his voice.

"You know, you're still technically on vacation, and I wrote a bunch yesterday. What do you say we play hooky today?" An idea is forming. Maybe it'll work. It could be fun, if he's interested.

"I'm not sure you fully understand the term hooky." Ethan laughs, his chest bouncing, and I nearly topple off of him.

"Come on, it'll be fun." I push up so I'm hanging over him, looking down into his eyes. He can't avoid me now. "Please?"

It was only a half idea I was throwing out a moment ago, but now that Ethan's uncertain, I'm more committed than ever. We both need to get out of the house and try something new today.

"Okay, let's do it," he says with a sly smile.

"Yay! Let's start with breakfast, because I'm starving." I roll off the bed and walk naked out of his bedroom.

Ethan doesn't stop me. Doesn't demand his benefits as a boyfriend. But I make sure to sway my hips a little so he at least has a good view as I walk away.

I rush through getting ready. I want to look nice for our outing, but I also don't want to take so long that Ethan gets annoyed and decides we shouldn't go out.

I'm not sure I've ever seen him leave the house in the entire time I've lived here, except when we went to lunch with my parents and when he left for the airport.

And I wouldn't call either of those outings particularly successful.

When I'm ready, I look for Ethan in his room, but he's not there. The bathroom door is open, so he's not still getting ready. Maybe he went downstairs to get a little work done before we leave. People who work a lot are always trying to sneak in a few more minutes.

I hurry down the stairs to roust Ethan out of the den, but find him huddled on the bottom of the stairs. I nearly trip over him.

"Are you okay?" I ask, knowing he's not. Something must be wrong if he's sitting here hunched over.

"I'm fine," says Ethan, slowly standing to his full height. "Lead the way."

Ethan opens the door as I slide on my shoes, but he stays right there holding the door until I step out on the stoop first.

"Where to? This is your idea so you get to make the attack plan," says Ethan, joining me on the sidewalk.

"Breakfast, obviously." I find myself taking Ethan's hand, entwining our fingers. "Then we're going to do what I call an Artist Date."

"Do you want to go to Over Easy? Their reviews list them as having a good brioche French toast," suggests Ethan.

"I didn't know you liked brioche," I tease as we head to the train platform.

"I have no idea if I like it or not." Ethan chuckles. "I didn't have time to google what it is before you came downstairs."

"It'll be a day full of firsts for us then, and I can give you the whole schedule for our Artist Date." One of those firsts is my first date in the city.

Working from home means I don't get out much or meet many people, so I haven't been able to meet potential dates. I'd thought in moving here my life would become glamorous and exciting, but all it's been is work and loneliness. Making friends as an adult is way harder than I thought it would be.

"Good, because I don't know what an Artist Date is either," says Ethan, smiling down at me.

My stomach does a little flip at that smile. At the trust behind it. He's letting me lead him wherever I want, just happy to be here with me.

I'm glad he came back early.

It's more brunch than breakfast, but we split a brioche French toast so we can both try it. We also split an omelet so we have a backup that we know will be delicious. I’m glad we did, too, because I thought the French toast was great, but it was too rich for Ethan.

After breakfast, we go to the aquarium and look at fish. We take turns pointing out our favorites and then making up little stories of their friendships with the other fish in the tanks. And the entire time, Ethan keeps my hand in his, so this feels like a real date.

We even pick up tacos on the way home so all we have to do after all our walking around is flop down on the sofa in the basement.

Ethan divvies out the tacos as the projector warms up.

I should be helping, but all I can do is sit here and admire him, a warm feeling in my chest as I watch him carefully transfer our food from the to-go container to plates.

"Do I have food on my face?" asks Ethan, not distracted from the taco situation. "You've been staring at me all day. If you've let me walk around with egg on my face this entire time, I'm going to be annoyed."

"No, you're fine." Ethan doesn't say anything. This is the time to say something about how much I enjoyed today, if I don't chicken out. "Thank you for today. For our Artist Date." There. That wasn't so hard .

"It was fun." Ethan glances quickly at my face as he passes me a plate, then fiddles with the remote to pull up a movie. "Nice to go out on a date," he adds, very quietly.

My heart swells. I'd been thinking the word date all day, and while I'd called it an Artist Date, I'd tiptoed around using the label other than that.

Yet he'd paid for everything, which was sweet—and helpful, because my budget is still really tight.

He hadn't complained once about what I'd chosen to do, and had readily joined in on my weirdness at the aquarium.

I knew we had chemistry in the bedroom, and the connection we're forming in real life is just as special.

"It was a great date." I lean over to kiss him on the cheek before turning to face the screen. "So what are we watching?"

"This one is about an Earthling who befriends an alien, and they end up hitchhiking through the universe," says Ethan. "It's nerdy for me, and there's a little romance for you."

"Sounds perfect." I bite into my taco, thinking the same thing about today.

"Yeah, it is," says Ethan, and I can feel the weight of his gaze on me.

But when I glance over at him, he turns his attention back to the movie.

I smile to myself, settling in next to him with my tacos. Maybe I'm not the only one who needed to play hooky today. Or to go on a date.

"Fuck people." There's the crash of a suitcase tipping over in the hallway, followed by footsteps coming into the kitchen. "Next time I suggest it's a good idea to go out and interact with the world, remind me it's not."

Lionel drops into a chair at the table next to me. There are purple bags beneath his eyes, but he looks more angry than tired.

"You're home early. We weren't expecting you for a few more days," I say, keeping my voice even. If he's pissed, I'm not going to be the one he takes that anger out on. He's always been so in control of his emotions, this side of him is new.

Lionel glares at me for a moment, then glances down to my sandwich. "I was supposed to get in late last night, but my connecting flight got delayed and I had to sleep in the airport."

"That's rough," Ethan says, dropping down across from us with his own plate. "They didn't comp you a room?"

"No." Lionel leans over and picks up my sandwich, taking a big bite of it before getting up to make his own. "And of course, I couldn't get to any of my luggage during that time either, because it was already checked."

"At least you made it home safe." Looking up at Ethan, I smirk and add, "Just in time to join our game too."

"Game?" asks Lionel, perking up a little as he plops back down at the table with his sandwich.

He threw it together so fast, it looks more like a pile of lunchmeat and bread and cheese than a proper sandwich, but he doesn't seem to care that half the filling is falling out as he raises it to his mouth. "What kind of game?"

He looks between us as if we might be planning something devious.

Ethan convinced me last night that we should take the rest of the week off and continue our Artist Dates, doing things we wouldn't normally make time for. No work, and all new fun.

"And what are you doing home already, Ender?" asks Lionel, popping a chip in his mouth.

"I wanted to spend some time with Clarissa." Ethan stares at me as he says this, and I feel my cheeks redden.

"Which I appreciate, because I didn't realize how big this house is until I was alone here," I quickly add, changing the subject to protect the secret Ethan entrusted to me.

"Same," agrees Lionel, nodding at Ethan. "That, and I couldn't take any more of my family constantly talking to me and dragging me around to visit everyone they've ever met in their life. I don't think they have ever heard of personal space or alone time."

"Sounds like they love you and want to be part of your life," I point out.

"They could love me a little less," says Lionel, polishing off his sandwich. "Or at least give me a moment alone sometimes. A guy has needs, after all."

Ethan nearly chokes on his sandwich as he laughs. "Did they walk in on you walking the dog?"

"Twice!" yells Lionel, holding up two fingers for emphasis.

"Wait, what?" Why is it that every time there are more than one of them in the room, they slip into a language I don't understand?

"His family walked in on him masturbating," clarifies Ethan.

Lionel chomps on another chip, still glowering.

Now it's my turn to laugh. It sounds like it's right out of one of my romance books, but it really happened to him.

"If you want to go upstairs and take care of yourself, we promise not to walk in on you or interrupt," I say, attempting to be serious but unable to stifle my giggles.

"Or I could just ..." Lionel reaches for my waist to pull me closer.

"You smell like an airport." I scrunch my nose and scoot farther away.

"Fine," he grumbles, putting his plate in the dishwasher. "I'm going to go shower."

As soon as he's out of the room, Ethan and I double over laughing.