Page 25 of When We Ignite

are you upset about the video?

please answer so we can talk

No response.

Me

Ethan answer your fucking phone.

I tried calling again.

Straight to voicemail.

“For fuck’s sake,” I growled.

A few people nearby glanced over, startled.

I needed a fucking cigarette.

CHAPTER FOUR

ETHAN

The heat was suffocating, or maybe that was just the rage simmering beneath my skin. Either way, it felt like my blood was boiling as sweat trickled down my forehead, stinging my eyes. I wiped it away with the edge of my wristband and gripped the racket tighter. With a quick flick of my wrist, I spun the handle a few times, the motion more habit than necessity, before settling into my ready position. The ball machine’s hum faded into the background. All I could hear was that goddamn ringtone drilling into my skull.

“Hey, your phone’s ringing again,” Maya called out from behind me.

I shot her a glare, my jaw tightening. She just shrugged, unfazed.

I refocused, my body coiled, waiting for the next ball. The machine spit out a clean serve, and I ripped into it with a forehand, sending the ball rocketing into the backcourt with a loudthwack.

“It’s Henry Langley,” she added as I lined up for the next shot.

“I’m done with the Langleys,” I muttered through gritted teeth, letting my frustration explode through another forehand. The ball hit the net and dropped lifelessly to the ground.

“Funny, considering you’re attending your sister’s wedding in five months. How do you figure you’re going to be done with them?” she asked, her tone maddeningly reasonable.

I swung again, this time aiming for the corner, feeling a brief flicker of satisfaction as the ball landed exactly where I wanted it.

“By ignoring my fucking phone,” I snapped, the words escaping mid-swing.

“He’s calling again,” she noted.

I let the ball sail past me, deliberately stepping out of its path, and stormed over to where she stood. Snatching the phone from her outstretched hand, I held it to my ear.

“What?” I barked into the receiver.

“Why are you mad at me? I didn’t stick my tongue down that guy’s throat,” Henry said.

I closed my eyes, seething. “That’s not why—” I began, then stopped myself. Taking a deep breath, I asked, “What do you want? I’m on the court.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re scary when you get jealous?”

“Fuck off,” I retorted, ready to hang up.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Henry laughed. “I wanted to extend a peace offering. Come to the club on Friday, bring your friends—as many as you want.”

I glanced at Maya. “Is he going to be there?” I asked quietly. We hadn’t talked about the real reason I was pissed at them. At him.