He lets out a sigh and leans in until his face is inches from mine. “About what happened the other night . . .”
He smells so good, like soap and fresh mint. My fingers fumble on the lock and I have to start over.
“I wanted to apologize to you,” he presses on. “It was—I didn’t plan it or anything.”
“You’ve already apologized.” I finally get my locker open and start gathering what I need for my morning classes.
“I know, but I wanted to do it again. I also wanted to tell you that the reason I stayed away from you this weekend is because I was afraid I’d screwed everything up.” He pauses to take a breath. “But I had to see you today so I could make sure we were, you know, still good.”
The thought of him giving me space almost makes me smile. I turn and meet his eyes. The way he’s looking at me, so earnest and concerned, feels like a fist around my heart. The last thing I want to do is hurt him. “We’ll always be good, Ethan.”
His entire body relaxes, and I know I’ve said the right thing, the exact words he needed to hear today. Like me, he spent the weekend wondering if we’d ruined the connection between us that, despite everything, still exists. Apparently, it’s stronger than we thought.
“I also wanted to ask you a question.” He tries for another smile, and this time it sticks. “Do you want to do something after school? Go grab a hot chocolate or a coffee or whatever? Just us this time.”
Everything in me wants to say yes, even the tiny, freaked-out part that’s wondering if “just us” is another term for “date.” The idea of dating Ethan seems improbable to me, but for a second I find myself wondering what it would be like. At the same time, I’m relieved to have an excuse to say no. I don’t feel ready to define whatever it is we are now.
“I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon,” I tell him. It’s not exactly a lie. Dr. Lemke is a doctor . . . of psychology. “Another time, maybe?”
He nods, his eyes never leaving my face. “Definitely. Another time.”
We continue to stare at each other, the air between us thickening with a different kind of tension. The kind that warms my stomach and makes my heart flip painfully in my chest. The kind that makes the rest of the world, or at least the rest of the school, fall away.
But not for long. I catch a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye and it suddenly dawns on me that we’re being watched.
Travis and Paige are walking hand in hand past my locker, alternately looking at us and whispering to each other. I’ve gotten used to people staring at us, so it barely even registers for me. Ethan’s not as immune though, because the moment he realizes we have an audience, his eyes go flat and his mood darkens like someone flipped a switch in his brain.
“Is there a problem?” He turns slightly toward Paige and Travis, shoulders squared and arm muscles tensed.
Travis laughs like Ethan said something funny. Paige’s cool gaze bounces back and forth between us, her eyes widening as she takes in our nearness. Ethan shifts until he’s slightly in front of me, shielding me like he did Friday night.
“Nope,” Travis says with a smirk. He tugs on Paige’s hand, and the two of them continue down the hallway without another word. I watch as they pause to join a cluster of people waiting by one of the classroom doors. Travis says something to the guy standing beside him, then he looks back at Ethan and me, a half smirk still on his lips. Is he talking about us?
It hits me then. All those nasty rumors going around about what happened between Aubrey and me . . . what if Travis is behind them? He and Aubrey were close, and he knew at least a little bit about the mess with Justin. What if he actually thinks—?
“Dara?” Ethan’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Don’t let them bother you. They’re just being idiots.”
“I’m fine.” I quickly turn back to face him. His features have returned to their normal, nonthreatening state. “So,” I say, forcing a smile as I go back to sorting through my notes. “When did you become so intimidating?”
He laughs. “Sophomore year, I guess, when school started up again and everyone was scared to talk to me because they didn’t know what to say. Oh, and the fights may have had something to do with it too.”
“Fights?”
“What, you didn’t hear about that?” A muscle twitches in his jaw. “First thing I did when I walked into school last year was punch Justin Gates in the face.”
My math book tumbles to the floor, followed by everything else on the top shelf of my locker. I ignore it. “Ethan, you didn’t,” I say, even though I know he did. I wouldn’t have believed it two years ago, or even last year, but I believe it now. “Did he hit you back?”
“No, but Wyatt Greer did.” He touches his eyebrow. “That’s how I got this scar.”
“Wait. You picked a fight with Wyatt Greer?”
He stoops down and starts gathering my things off the floor. “He was harassing some freshman kid in the parking lot one day. I wasn’t going to let him get away with that.”
I shake my head as I crouch down beside him. So, not only had he given up violin and joined a band and gotten hot while I was away, he’d also taken up brawling. Good to know. An image of Aubrey flashes through my head, her mother-hen face jacked up to maximum.
“Why do you have this?”
I glance up to see Ethan holding a piece of paper. The same piece of paper I stowed in my green notebook a couple of months ago, the one featuring Aubrey’s obituary and the first article about the accident. It must have slid out when everything fell. Two seconds ago I was thinking about her, and now here she is again, declaring her presence like she’s afraid of being forgotten.
“Oh . . .” I take the page from him and stand up, wobbling as all my blood rushes to my head. “I found it in my locker one day.”
Ethan straightens up too and hands over the rest of my stuff. “Someone put that in your locker? Why?”
“I don’t know. To torture me, I guess?” I don’t want to tell him about the first piece of mail, the pencil sketch of me pushing Aubrey, and that I’m wondering now if Travis is somehow behind both. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I painted myself as a target the minute I decided to come back here, right? I deserve every shot I get.”
Before I can react, his hand captures mine and holds on tight. “No, you don’t, and I wish there was something I could do to make you see that.”
The bell rings, the shrill sound of it breaking through the intensity of the moment. Without another word, Ethan drops my hand and walks with me to the end of the hallway, where we each go our separate ways.
I pop my head into the kitchen, where my mother is catching up on some work at the table. “I’m going out,” I tell her. Not waiting for a reply, I duck back out and continue to the front door.
“Dara! Dara, wait a second.” She catches up to me in the entryway. “Where are you going?”