“Sure I can, plus it means I get to spend more time with you.”
His crooked smile causes his dimples to flash and it just about melts me on the spot. I smile and climb into the passenger side of my car. He gets in and I immediately burst out laughing. He’s in the driver’s seat folded like a pretzel with his knees up near his chin.
“Jeez, how short are you?” he says, laughing while adjusting the seat so he’s not sandwiched against the steering wheel.
“Hey now, God grows things until they’re perfect,” I say, grinning back at him. “I guess some of us take less time than others.”
“That’s so cheesy,” he laughs. “Tell me that’s not a line from one of your t-shirts.”
I stay quiet and his head whips around from adjusting the mirrors.
“It is, isn’t it? You have a t-shirt that says that.”
“Some people quote Plato, I prefer quoting my shirts.” I shrug and he laughs again and I smile at how much I like the sound.
We spend almost the entire car ride in a comfortable silence. It’s as if something between us has shifted, a barrier that I wasn’t even aware of until its disappearance, removed. He’s confided in me about his father, trusted me with something I’m pretty sure even his best friends don’t know about. We hardly know one and other and yet I feel weirdly close to him. He trusts me to keep my promise and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that. I give him directions to my house and he pulls onto the drive and turns off the engine, shifting in his seat to look at me.
“So…I’ll see you at school, I guess?”
“Yep,” I respond letting the p pop.
“Look Blair, I know you’ve already promised me bu—”
I hold my hand up to stop him. “I won’t say anything, but I can’t pretend that I think it's the right thing.”
“Thank you.”
“I better go in and face the inquisition,” I say, motioning to the house.
“Yeah, I should go too,” he says, although he makes no attempts to get out of the car. We sit holding each other’s gaze for a few moments before he leans forward and presses a light kiss to my forehead. “Later, Princess,” he says and then just like that, he’s gone. I’m left sitting in the passenger seat with a goofy grin on my face but a heavy sadness in my heart.
To say that my mom was pissed with me for not coming home is a major understatement. I can’t remember a time that she’s been this mad. She told me that I was technically an adult so she wasn’t about to ground me, but she expects me to start acting like one. Staying out all night and getting drunk was unacceptable and she was disappointed in me. Pot. Kettle. Black!
To be fair, I was disappointed in myself too. If Ethan hadn’t taken me home when he did, who knows what would have happened. I spent the rest of Saturday in bed feeling hung over to hell. I woke this morning from a dreamless sleep and decided that I needed to talk to someone about Ethan, so here I am. About to break my promise.
“Hey Emily,” I say, sitting Indian-style beside her grave. I lay down the yellow sunflowers I brought with me and speak quietly as if she were right here with me, which I guess she sort of is.
“I decided to make a start on your list. I think you’d be pretty impressed with me. So far I’ve managed to get wasted—totally overrated, by the way—and the hangover was hell. Add in the fact that I puked on Ethan Jamison while he was taking care of me, and I think it’s safe to say I won’t be drinking again anytime soon. Trust me, you aren’t missing much. Also, I sang to a crowd. Well, technically it was to half the senior class and volleyball team at TJ Connor’s party. I’m kinda dreading showing up to school tomorrow.”
I pull a few blades of grass out the ground and twist them together before continuing. I tell her about tutoring Ethan, the party and the abuse. I tell her everything, holding nothing back.
“Em I don’t know what to do. I should tell someone, right? But he made me promise and what if I tell someone and nothing happens to his dad and I just make it worse? God, I hate feeling like this, I wish I didn’t know…that’s a bitch thing to say isn’t it? I’m horrid. I just really like him, Em. I feel guilty as hell for liking him because it’s Ethan. Your Ethan. Are you mad at me? I’m mad at me! This is like breaking Girl Code 101. I promise I didn’t mean to like him; when he turned up at the study session the other day I was expecting him to be a douche and he isn’t. He’s awkward and funny and kind and sorta beautiful. I don’t want to like him, Emily, honestly I don’t, but I can’t help it. Shit, I wish you were here.”