“I’m going to go wash the plane off me,” Kamilah said gently. “Then we’ll talk. Then we’ll plan. It’s all going to be okay.” She sniffed. “Maybe the first part of this plan should include you showering, too.”
An hour later, the dishwasher and washing machine hummed, and the trash that had covered the living room was now confined to a garbage bag by the door. Grey and Kamilah, squeaky clean, lounged on the couch as Grey regaled her with the saga of the last two months.
“I knew it! You were being so weird about everything, I knew something had to be up,” Kamilah said smugly.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been the worst friend lately. I was kind of relieved you weren’t here, honestly, it would’ve been impossible to hide it from you. But I’m so fucking glad you’re back.”
“So where are things now? Have you guys talked?”
Grey shook her head. Kamilah’s jaw dropped.
“What? Like not at all? Emilyyy, come on. Has he been trying to talk to you, at least?”
Grey buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I haven’t looked at my phone in days. I don’t even know what I would say to him. I just want to forget everything and move on.”
“I bet you do,” Kamilah said drily.
Grey bent her knees to her chin and folded her arms on top of them. “I mean, we agreed that things couldn’t continue past the weekend. And now that the contract’s over, there’s really no reason for us to see each other again. It’s simple. No need to hash it out and prolong the drama.” Maybe saying it out loud would help her actually believe it.
Kamilah looked skeptical. “But whose idea was it for things to stop after the weekend?”
“Mine,” Grey admitted.
“And who broke the contract?”
Grey didn’t like where this was going. “I did.”
Kamilah scoffed.
“You are cold as ice sometimes. You obviously like him, you two were liking each other all over the house. You do this all the time. You’re always looking for reasons to cut people out, stop them from getting too close.”
Grey opened her mouth to deny it, but realized she’d admitted that exact thing to Ethan.
“This is different,” she spluttered. “I lost my first job in a year because of him. This whole thing has been nothing but trouble since day one. Plus, he’s a fucking mess. I don’t need someone I have to take care of. I don’t need that shit in my life. I don’t.” Although she hadn’t had to take care of him this weekend. From falling on the cobblestones to falling asleep in his arms, he’d been thoughtful and attentive to her every need.
She closed her eyes, her words catching on the image she couldn’t get out of her mind: the winter in his expression as she walked out the door. Fighting ice with ice until they both froze to death. “He’s been so hot and cold with me from the beginning. I can’t take it anymore. If I hadn’t done it, he would have. Eventually.”
Kamilah shrugged. “You know better, I guess. But I don’t really see how he’s the bad guy here.”
Grey sighed and rested her cheek on her folded arms. “He’s not. Maybe I am. I don’t know. This whole thing just makes me feel like I’m gonna puke. All the time.”
Kamilah pursed her lips sympathetically, then widened her eyes as if something had just occurred to her. “Wait, are you even allowed to be telling me this? Is the NDA still in effect?”
Grey shook her head. “No, it’s all over. I mean, I probably shouldn’t be shouting it from the rooftops or anything, but I’m sure nobody’s questioning whether it’s real now. My image is just fucked. No pun intended.” She sat up straight. “Enough about my fucking disaster of a love life. I want to hear about the tour. And Andromeda.”
Kamilah’s face lit up, her mouth stretching into a dreamy grin. Grey felt the weight in her chest lift a little at the sight of her friend’s giddiness. “God. Where do I even start? The last few months have just been…unreal. Like, how the fuck is this my life right now?” She clapped her hands under her chin. “Oh! Did I tell you they flew out my mom and sisters for a week to surprise me while we were in Paris? My brain is so jet-lag scrambled, I can’t remember what I’ve already told you. Tell me when I’m repeating myself.”
Grey adjusted the pillow at her back and snuggled into the corner of the couch. “Just start at the beginning. And tell me everything.”
* * *
—
ETHAN CAME TO, vaguely aware of someone standing over him.
Grey.
“Not exactly,” came a deep voice. Ethan hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud. He opened his eyes with considerable effort to see Lucas looming above him.
“What are you doing in my room?” he asked, his voice dry and cracked.
“This is the living room, Ethan,” Lucas said slowly, as if speaking to a child.
He had a point. Ethan slung an arm over the back of the couch and hoisted himself up, groaning. His head spun as Lucas tossed him a bottle of water. Ethan’s reflexes failed him as he threw his arm out, in vain, to prevent it from hitting him with a thud square in the chest. He fumbled to open it.
“What are you doing here, I mean?”
“You texted me, like, ten times, saying you needed help. I almost called 911 first.”
Ethan frowned. He looked around the room, trying to gather evidence of what would have compelled him to send an SOS to Lucas. His eyes strayed to the floor, where four or five remotes lay in disarray, along with a handful of loose batteries of indeterminate origin.
“Um. I think I was trying to turn on the TV.”
Lucas bent down and picked up the largest remote, handing it to Ethan.
“This is the universal remote, I programmed it last month. You turn it on by pressing ‘on.’ Anything else?” Ethan expected him to sound irritated, but he realized he’d never seen Lucas look anything less than sunny and affable. Apparently, even being dragged from West Hollywood to the Palisades for such a stupid reason wasn’t enough to rattle him.
Ethan cleared his throat, embarrassed. “No. No, you can go.”
Lucas inclined his head and turned to leave.
“Wait,” Ethan called impulsively. Lucas turned back, eyebrows raised in anticipation. “Do you…do you want to watch the game or something?”
The question hung suspended in midair.
“What game? It’s one o’clock on a Wednesday.”
“The. Um. Texas?”
Lucas looked like he was trying not to laugh, a dimple appearing in his left cheek.
“I have to head to class, but I can come back…later?” he said tentatively, as if expecting Ethan to change his mind and reprimand him for even suggesting it.
Ethan nodded, a little chagrined at his outburst.
“I can pick you up some dinner. Burrito okay?” Lucas said.
“Sure. Get yourself something, too. I…” Ethan hesitated. “I don’t need you to be here as my assistant. You can just…you can just be my nephew.” He directed that last part at the remote, ashamed at his open admission of how lonely he was. He’d gone out of his way to put Lucas in his place, make sure that he never saw their relationship as anything beyond employer/employee, and now here Ethan was, laid low, desperate for a little familial kindness.
Lucas didn’t flinch.
“Sure. Seven?”
Ethan felt a swell of wonder that his sister had managed to raise such a kindhearted and good-natured young man. She certainly hadn’t learned it from their parents.
“Seven is great.”
Lucas turned toward the door again.
“Lucas?”
“Yeah?”
Ethan met his eyes this time.
“Thank you.”
GREY DRESSED AS IF SHE were going into battle, swiping on layer after layer of eyeliner like warpaint. It had been nearly two weeks since she had seen herself in anything but sweatpants and a sullen expression, and the sight of her smoldering, black-clad reflection had a fortifying effect on her. When she stepped out of her bedroom, Kamilah eyed her approvingly.
“You look like an evil Charlie’s Angel.”
Grey ran her hands down her legs. They squeaked slightly against her glossy, faux-leather leggings.
“Is it too much? I think I might change.”
“Don’t. That is exactly the energy I need from you tonight. Can you help me shorten my straps?”