Ethan is pretty familiar with my schedule now. Sometimes after class we’d meet up before I went to work and eat lunch or hang out. So it’s not surprising at all that just before I slide my thumb down to press his name my phone starts ringing.
“Hey,” I say, lifting the phone to my ear as I walk through the building’s double doors and out into the courtyard.
“Out of class?” Ethan asks.
“You know I am.”
“Cool. I’m just around the corner.”
I glance up and look to the front curb, past all the benches and bushes. Sure enough Ethan’s red little coupe rounds the corner and parks. The passenger door swings open and Ethan leans over the seat, waving at me.
I click my phone off, sigh and shove it in my pocket. There’s no avoiding this now.
“Hey,” I say slipping my backpack off my shoulder and sliding into the car.
I close the door then drop my backpack to the floor. Just as I click in my seat belt, I have to take a deep breath.
I’ve done this so many times before, it feels so normal, so comfortable. Just like an old shoe. Perhaps this was a mistake. Perhaps I shouldn’t have felt like I had to get in the car because he was already here. I should have told Ethan to meet me somewhere later.
I don’t want to give him the impression that’s nothing changed between us.
“Hey,” Ethan smiles at me as if nothing’s wrong, nothing’s changed. He shifts the car into gear and we zoom forward. “How was class?”
Honestly, I wouldn’t know how class was. I was too busy thinking about other stuff. I shrug my shoulders, “It was class.”
Ethan nods as if he understands. I’m not sure if he’s even stepped foot in a college. Since Ethan graduated from high school, he’s taken on the role of Regional Manager with Glier’s Electronics. He’s already confessed to me that he’s Regional Manager in title only. He actually does very little work. It’s simply a position for him to fill until the day he inherits the entire business from his father.
An uncomfortable silence falls between us. I don’t know what to say. I feel uneasy trying to broach the topic of what happened here, secluded with him in the car. If I piss him off again, which given how much he’s changed I wouldn’t put it past him, there’s no one around to help.
So I press my lips together and stare out the window, deciding its best not to say anything at all. I take comfort in watching the familiar scenery flow past as he drives us to our usual lunch spot.
At least he’s not pushing it and driving me back to his house.
Once we pull up to Brian’s Burger Shack, Ethan throws the car in park and jumps out. I grab my backpack, any other time I’d just leave it on the floor, and exit the car.
Ethan frowns as I slip my backpack over my shoulder but otherwise doesn’t say anything as we walk into the restaurant. We find our usual booth in the back. The waitress appears and Ethan even gives her our usual order.
I slump in my seat and just let him do it. This all feels way too messed up.
It’s not until the waitress sets our cokes on the table and disappears that Ethan finally speaks. “Look Avery, I’m really sorry about what happened.”
I just look at him. Does he just expect me to forgive him? By how soft his baby blues have gone, I kind of get the impression that he does.
When I don’t say anything, Ethan licks his lips nervously and goes on, “I shouldn’t have pushed you into the wall.”
I nod my head in agreement. “You shouldn’t have.”
“I feel like shit,” he admits. “You didn’t deserve it.”
“I didn’t.”
Suddenly Chase’s voice fills my head. No man should ever hurt a woman.
“I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never lost before,” Ethan frowns. “I reacted poorly. I’ll never forgive myself for taking it out on you.”
If we weren’t friends for so long, I’d just wash my hands of Ethan and write him off as a total dirt bag. But I thought, given everything he’s done for me, I owe him the chance to apologize to me. He’s never hit me before, he’s never before been so aggressive. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt.
We’ve been friends for so long, for so long he’s been the only other person who cares about me.
“You blamed me for your loss,” I say and stir the straw in my coke around. “You not only pushed me, you forced a kiss on me and said I owe you.”
Ethan winces as if I just slapped him or something and says softly, “I wasn’t in my right mind.”
I sigh, lean back, and cross my arms over my chest. “Do you think I owe you? Have you thought that all this time?” I take a deep breath and can’t even look at him as I ask, “Do you want me to repay you for Grandma’s funeral?”
I don’t have the money, but I’d figure out how to get the money somehow. We’d have to work out an installment plan or something.
“No, Avery, fuck no,” Ethan curses.
I almost sigh in relief. Who am I kidding? I’m barely scraping by as it is.
“You don’t owe me anything. If anything, I owe you.”
I frown and shake my head at Ethan. “You don’t owe me.” I’ve never been able to do anything financial for him.
Ethan nods, “I do owe you. I owe you because I’m a fucking asshole. I feel disgusted by what I did to you. It’s like a nightmare I just want to forget. I’m not that man. I’m not a scumbag that hurts women.”
Ethan pauses to take a deep breath and says with such sadness. “I don’t want to be a fucking monster.”
I sigh. This is not how I expected this to go at all. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.
Ethan and I have so much history, so much good history, and to have it end over what he did is just sad. Watching him verbally beat himself up, hearing him call himself a monster just strikes a chord with me.
“You’re not a monster,” I tell him. Then I think very, very carefully about my next words. “But you have changed. I don’t feel like I know who you are anymore. I’m not sure I like the person you are now.”
Ethan nods and rubs his hand down his face. “It’s all this fighting. I’ve let all this shit go to my head.”
The waitress reappears and we’re quiet as she sets our plates down. My stomach growls, and though I’m in no mood to eat, I can’t help but reach out and snag a french fry.
With reflexes like a damn cat, Ethan reaches out and captures my hand. The french fry drops to the plate. My heart feels like it’s frozen mid-beat.
Ethan looks at me, his baby blues pleading. “Do you think we can fix this?”
His face falls as I respond softly, honestly, “I don’t know.”
“Let me make it up to you, Avery,” he pleads, squeezing my hand. “Is there anything I can do?”
I shake my head and resist the urge to pry my fingers from his grip. “You don’t have to make it up to me. But I do think you should probably look into some anger management classes, for yourself.”
Ethan nods. “I’ve already booked an appointment with a counselor.”
I’m a little surprised, and a little impressed. Maybe he honestly wants to work on himself.
I smile at him. “That sounds like a great start.”
He squeezes my hand again and let’s it go. I pick up my french fry and pop it in my mouth.
“How’s your head feel?” Ethan asks and picks up his burger.
“It’s much better now,” I answer and shove another french fry in my mouth. Now that I’ve had one I want them all.
“Did you see a doctor?” Ethan asks and takes a bite out of his burger.
I nod my head. “The one at the arena said I was good to go.”
Ethan chews, swallows then frowns. “I’d feel much better if you were seen by my personal physician.”
“I’m all better, honestly.” I wave him off and pick up another fry.
Ethan looks like he wants to say more about it. I glare at him to show him it’s not a good idea.
He sighs then asks, “Are you at least enjoying your time off?”
I shake my head. “No. Not really, no. In fact, if you could get Joe to put me back on the schedule that would be great. I don’t need the time off. I need the hours.”
“It’s paid time off, Avery,” Ethan says and takes another bite of his burger.
Whew, that’s actually a huge relief.
“Because you never take a day off,” Ethan goes on after swallowing. “You’ve accumulated over three weeks of sick pay.”
“Well, I’m not sick. I should probably save it for when I really need it. Honestly, I don’t mind going back to work. Being off throws off my whole schedule.”
Ethan sets his burger down then wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Actually, we need to talk about that.”
“We do?” I ask, confused.
“Lauren left. She met a guy or something,” Ethan tells me.
Lauren is Ethan’s personal assistant. Which is funny because why would he even need a personal assistant? The whole position seems pretty moot.
“I’m sorry,” I respond, not understanding what he’s getting at.
“The position is yours if you want it. It’s double what you’re making now and you can work the same hours.”