I took a deep breath and chose to ignore it, hoping he would too. He didn’t say anything. He simply held me tighter. As we watched Eve and Adam dancing to Denise LaSalle’s “Trapped by a Thing Called Love,” Ethan took his laptop and carefully placed it on the nightstand. He then turned to me, leaning in slowly, until our lips barely met.

“I’m not wrong,” he said with such warmth. “Not about you. Not about this.” He shook his head.

“Ethan…”

“I’m not wrong, Tom,” he said softly before finally kissing me.

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

This. You. Here.

I could hear the rain falling outside. Slow, steady, with a cadency to it that was borderline hypnotic. I stretched my arm out to the other side of the bed only to find it empty, so I pulled down the duvet that was covering my entire body, and for a second, as my eyes adjusted to the faint morning light, I wasn’t entirely sure whether I was alone or not.

It didn’t take me long to find the note Ethan had left. He’d stuck a Post-it on the window, just above the bed, and it was the second thing I saw—the first being my phone, lighting up as it danced on the nightstand. After purposefully pretending not to have seen the number 17 next to the word Messages on the locked screen, I turned to what was really worth reading: my Post-it.

“I’ve never felt this either”

The letters on the yellow square seemed to slow dance with the unbroken pace of the water drifting down the glass. I pulled it from the window and stuck it to the back of my phone. I was keeping that note.

Just as I did, I heard the sound of keys clattering and the front door opening. I was going to get up, but as I took a look at myself, I considered that it might be Ethan’s father, and the thought of bumping into him while wearing nothing but his son’s pants wasn’t exactly the first impression I wished to make. So I grabbed that duvet and held it up to my neck, having no memory of how my underwear and T-shirt seemed to have been lost during the night, or any idea where they might’ve ended up. Thankfully, it wasn’t long until I heard Ethan’s footsteps coming from the hall.

“Look who’s up,” a happy Ethan said as he carried two coffees and a bag that exuded the scent of cinnamon. “How did you sleep?”

“Uncharacteristically well,” I said, dropping the duvet to my waist and resting both hands on my lap. “You?”

“I have to admit, I watched you sleep for a bit.” He placed the coffee and paper bag on his dresser and began casually undressing.

“You did?” I watched as he pulled his T-shirt over his head before unbuttoning his worn-out blue jeans.