I wasn’t so sure. If Justin had noticed the way I looked at him, maybe Aubrey had too. What if she blamed me? What if she uncovered the deep, hidden place in my heart where I’d locked away every smile, every word, every secret desire I’d ever felt for the boy she loved?
I concentrated on the can in my hand, forcing back tears. “What he said wasn’t entirely off base, okay? The way I felt about him wasn’t all in his head. You know that. You’re observant.”
“So? He still had no right to touch you.” He shifted closer and lowered his voice. “I hope you don’t think you asked for that.”
Deep down I knew Ethan was right, but another part of me—the part that was still in shock—insisted on downplaying the situation. “He had a lot to drink. People do stupid things when they’re drunk. Things they don’t mean.”
“Why are you defending him? Drunk or not, he’s still an asshole. I should’ve smashed his teeth in when I had the chance.”
“Ethan,” I said, shocked. He’d never hit someone in his life. When did he get so bloodthirsty? “Please, just . . . let me handle this on my own. I want to give Justin a chance to explain himself before I tell Aubrey about this. Okay?”
“If he even remembers in the morning,” he muttered. He let out a noisy breath and tipped his head back against the freezer. “So, what, we’re supposed to walk out of here and pretend like nothing happened?”
“Just until I figure this out.” I gripped his knee. “Please, Ethan. Do this for me.”
He stared at me, unblinking, a mix of uncertainty and anger simmering in his eyes. After a few moments, he swallowed and looked away, toward the sticky brown stain on the floor.
“Okay, fine. I’ll stay out of it.” He slid his foot over, resting it against mine. “For you.”
nineteen
Senior Year
LUNCHTIME HAS BECOME SOMETHING THAT I count on. With the exception of Subway Fridays, Ethan and his friends spend the hour either hanging out in the science wing near Hunter’s locker or—on nice days—in the parking lot by Ethan’s car. They never go to the cafeteria, and since the first day I tagged along with them to Subway, I started avoiding the cafeteria too, opting instead to hang out with them. Every day, Noelle meets me at my locker and then the two of us head to wherever the guys are waiting. I like the consistency of it, the routine. It’s comforting to have something to look forward to each day. To have friends in my life again.
Today, though, the usual lighthearted atmosphere feels subdued. Ethan barely touches his lunch, and his leg jiggles like my mother’s does when she’s had way too much coffee.
“You okay?” I ask softly. We’re in the science wing today, and he’s sitting next to me on the floor across from the lockers. I can almost feel the tension radiating from his body.
He stops fidgeting and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m fine.”
Across from us, Hunter swallows a mouthful of sandwich and says, “Stage fright.”
Surprised, I look at Ethan again. Tomorrow night is the band showcase at the community center, and through all these weekends of practice, he’s never once expressed any apprehension about it. Seeing him like this is a relief, in a way. He may seem confident on the outside now, but inside he’s still the same Ethan who used to get nervous before orchestra concerts.
“Are you like this every time?” I ask him.
“He barfed for three days before our last show,” Hunter says, smiling. Noelle, who’s sitting next to him eating some kind of pasta from a thermos, reaches over to smack his arm.
“I’m fine,” Ethan says again, like a mantra.
We all slide our legs in as a group of people approach. One of them, a guy named Seth who’s in my Global Geography class, looks at Ethan and me and raises his eyebrows. This isn’t anything new—people sometimes take notice when Ethan and I hang out at school, probably because the sight of us together is so unexpected—but Seth is known for being a bit of a loudmouth. Ethan watches him warily, unfolding his arms and placing his hands on the floor like he’s preparing to jump up if Seth says one word. But he walks by without comment, and Ethan relaxes somewhat, his warm arm brushing against mine. Goose bumps rise on my skin. I rub my arms, telling myself it’s just chilly in here.
“Don’t worry about tomorrow night,” Noelle says, picking the conversation back up without missing a beat. “We’ll all be there for moral support. Right, Dara?”
I stop rubbing. “What?”
“You are coming, right? You’ve been sitting in on practices for weeks now. You owe it to the band to be there.”
“I do?”
Going to their show isn’t something I planned on doing. Realm isn’t even scheduled to go on until eight forty-five or something, and I don’t go out at night anymore. Also, I don’t do crowds. They never used to bother me, but now they make me feel claustrophobic, panicky. What if I had an anxiety attack in front of everyone?
I glance at Ethan and he smiles shakily at me, his face pale. Maybe I do owe it to them, or at least to him.
“I’ll have to think of something to tell my parents,” I say, giving in.
Noelle grins. “Do I need to show off my freckles again?”
I shake my head. Dealing with my parents is something I need to figure out for myself.
The next night, I wait until the very last minute to announce that I’m going out. This time, it’s only my father I have to get through. Mom left at five thirty to meet her girlfriends for dinner and a movie.
Once I’m ready, I head downstairs and stand in the entrance to the living room, where Dad and Tobias are watching one of the Star Wars movies. “I’m going out with Noelle,” I say. “I’ll be home by midnight.”
Dad tears his gaze away from the TV and looks at me, not quite meeting my eyes. Two weeks have passed since the fight with my parents, and my father and I have barely interacted since. “Where are you going?”
“The community center.” Points for honesty. “There’s an all-ages show.”
Dad’s gaze slides back to the TV. “And your mother knows?”
“No,” I say, moving away from the doorway. “But you can update her when she gets home.”
Before he can say anything more, I make a break for the door and step outside. The air is crisp and cold and smells like snow, even though we haven’t gotten any yet. The slight breeze seeps through my thin jacket as I walk to the end of the street, where Noelle has promised to pick me up. She’s there already, sitting behind the wheel of her mom’s red Toyota. Julia is in the passenger seat, so I climb in back.
“Oooh, I like your hair,” Noelle says when she sees me. Julia, of course, is texting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without her phone in her hand. I’m not even sure what color her eyes are, because she never looks up.
“Thanks.” My hair does look better since I got it trimmed and started conditioning again. Earlier, I flat-ironed it until the strands hung down in a smooth sheet. “Where’s Lacey?” I ask as we pull away from the curb.
Julia snickers, the first sound I’ve heard from her since I got in the car.