It’s a minor sensation, the slightest bit of heat in all the right places, but it’s enough to make me notice the difference between the way I feel around Ethan and the way I felt with Parker. Around Parker my skin was chilled like ice, basically numb. It’s the sensation that I’ve felt with most of the guys I remember hooking up with.
“It’s a long, stupid story like most of my life is.” I sink down on the edge of the coffee table and place my hands on my lap, focusing on them instead of Ethan because I do feel ashamed of what just happened—what he just saw—because it’s not the first time I’ve been in that kind of a situation and it’s my own fault it happened. “He came to collect my debt for the pill I stole. I said I’d pay him, but since I’d promised at his house that I’d f**k him for one, that’s the payment he wanted. So he… well, what you saw.”
The muscles of his arms flex and his jaw is taut. “You say that like it’s no big deal.”
I shrug, examining my fingernails, once again feeling like he’s seeing the real, rare sight of me that I’m so used to keeping hidden from people. “It’s not anything I haven’t had to deal with before. You know that… you know what I’m like.”
Shaking his head, Ethan walks over in front of me and kneels down, splaying his hand on top of my thighs. His skin is seductively hot, yet comforting. “Would you stop thinking about yourself like that? So you screwed some guys. So f**king what? People have sex and that doesn’t make you a slut. And it sure as hell doesn’t give rich douche bags an excuse to rape you or make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“He wouldn’t have raped me,” I say, with my chin tucked down. “I would have given in before it became rape.”
He frowns, his face reddening with anger. He huffs out a breath and then cups my face between his hands. “Don’t ever say that again. If a girl says no even once then a guy should stop. Hell, if she shows a single sign of not wanting it, the guy should stop. You should never, ever have to have sex with a guy when you don’t want to.”
Tell that to the many guys I’ve been with throughout my life. “Okay.”
His frown deepens. “Lila Summers, where is that perky girl I first met?”
“I think she died at some point.”
“So bring her back.”
I sigh, discouraged. “I can’t. She takes too much energy and pills. And honestly, I’m not sure I want to be her anymore.”
“And that’s fine. Be whoever you want to be, but please, please stop thinking so poorly of yourself. You barely even smile anymore and I… I f**king miss it.” He gives me an adorable, lopsided grin. “You have a very beautiful smile.”
I’m not even sure what overtakes me. His words. The bluntly, beautiful, realistic moment. Or if it’s just him. Whatever it is, I quickly lean forward, letting my emotions drive me to him, which is a first for me. I press my lips to his and it’s amazing. Undiluted. And I feel it all, from the way my heart rate accelerates to the swift flow of my blood rushing to my head, the heat of our contact, the soft, wetness of his lips.
I’ve kissed more guys than I can count, but the emotions freed in this kiss are new because there’s real emotion behind it. Even though I was having a hard time deciphering it earlier, because I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt love toward anyone ever, or been on the reciprocating end of it, I realize now what this is.
Love. I’m completely, one hundred percent, truly in love with Ethan.
Ethan
It took a lot of energy not to slam my fist into Parker’s face. I wanted to really, really badly. I remember a couple of times when I walked in on my dad beating the shit out of my mom. My dad used to be a fairly big guy, with bulky arms and a really thick neck, but he looked so pathetic as he shoved my mom down to the ground and then backhanded her across the face.
One moment in particular always sticks out in my mind because it was the first day I realized how bad things were between them.
I’d just gotten home from school, a little earlier than usual, and I let my bag fall to the kitchen floor as I took in the sight of my mom cowering on the ground and my dad raising his hand to slap her. “Dad, stop!” I didn’t even think. I just ran up to my mom, ready to protect her.
“Ethan, stop!” she cried back right as my dad swung his arm around without even looking and struck me across the face.
He hadn’t hit me since I was eight, so it kind of took me off guard a little, although I wasn’t that surprised. That’s the funny thing about being beaten by someone who’s supposed to love you. It’s hard to see how wrong it is, because the idea of love can be blinding. Which is exactly what happened to my mother.
She got up from the floor and hurried over to me as I cradled my cheek with my hand. “Ethan, what are you doing here? School isn’t out yet.”
I peeked up at her, shooting a glare in my dad’s direction as he rubbed his hand. “School got let out early today. I gave you the note on Monday.”
“Oh yeah.” There were tears running down her face and her cheek was inflamed. She looked a little lost for a minute and then she patted me on the shoulder. “Go do your homework in your room.”
I glanced at my father, who looked remorseful. He always did, though. It was like he’d get caught up in the heat of the moment and turn into a monster, his eyes glazed over with rage. When it was all over, he was always sorry and kept telling everyone that over and over again.
“Maybe I should stay out here with you,” I told my mom, wishing I was big enough that I could actually hurt my dad back for her.
My mom shook her head and ruffled my hair, like everything was okay. Like none of this was messed up. Like her face wasn’t swelling, or all the kitchen chairs weren’t tipped over, or the veins in my dad’s neck weren’t bulging. “Ethan, go to your room and do your homework. Everything is fine.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and collected my backpack, swinging it over my shoulder. They both watched me as I headed to the doorway and the entire situation felt wrong. I felt confused, afraid, and terrified, yet I couldn’t figure out why.
I glanced over my shoulder when I reached the doorway, looking back at them. “Are you sure, Mom?” It felt like leaving wasn’t the right thing, yet I couldn’t figure out what else to do.
“Ethan, your mother’s fine,” my father replied. “And I’m really sorry that I accidentally hit you… I didn’t realize you were there.”
Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Always sorry. I nodded and left the room, locking myself in my bedroom. A few minutes later they started yelling at each other and I cranked up the music to drown them out.
Walking in on Lila and Parker, I felt the same kind of fear and fury that I did when I was younger. The sight of it—the control he had over her—rammed me hard in the stomach. Yet, unlike when I was a kid, I knew I could kick Parker’s ass. And I wanted to so much I could feel it raging through my bloodstream. I wanted to beat him so hard he couldn’t see straight. A flood of emotions rushed through me and not only was I pissed that he was making a girl do something she obviously didn’t want to do, but he was making my Lila do something she didn’t want to do. And as soon as I saw it—felt it—I knew that whatever I’d been trying to deny was going on between us was obviously something I couldn’t run away from. But I’m worried because the amount of anger in my body matches the amount of anger I’ve seen in my dad’s eyes.
The rage continues to amplify, burning inside my chest until suddenly and completely unexpectedly, Lila kisses me. And that kiss, the single touch of our lips, the slight elevation of heat in my body, the flood of mixed emotions, erases my anger and changes my life despite the fact that I don’t know if I want it to.
I don’t react right away, partially from shock and partially because I’m afraid. My mother and father’s turbulent relationship is fresh in my head and so is the fear of turning out like them. This isn’t just about sex. There is so much more to it than that. We have a connection. We have since the day we met. I just refused to feel it, but now it’s forcing its way on me, controlling, owning me—she controls and owns me—which means I’m dependent on her in a lot of ways.
I’m freaking out, but then she starts to pull away and I realize that I don’t want her to, so I open my mouth and sweep my tongue into hers as I cup the back of her head and bring her back to me, all my worries and fears briefly dissipating.
Jesus f**king Christ. This is so different from what I’m used to. I’m both curious and terrified to explore it more. But desire and want push me forward and I comb my fingers through her short blonde hair that’s streaked black. “You changed your hair,” I murmur. “I like it…” I gently tug it back as I explore her mouth further with my tongue, massaging it, caressing it, searching every inch of it.
Her eyes shut tightly. “Ethan,” she says, clutching my shoulders, her nails piercing through the fabric of my shirt and into my skin. The roughness of her touch surprises me and adds fuels to my very eager body. Before I even know what I’m doing, I stand up, disconnecting our kiss.
Her breath falters and her cheeks turn a little pink as she opens her eyes, like she’s embarrassed. Before she can say anything, I grab her by the hips, digging my fingers into her skin, and swiftly pick her up. I’ve never been much of a carrying-a-girl-around kind of guy, but I’m feeling different with her. I want to hold her, hug her, have her so damn close to me that I can’t tell where she starts and I begin. Every inch of my body is blazing, adrenaline spiking as it crashes through my body. I’m light-headed, burning up, wanting her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. Feelings soar inside me, ones I knew existed but refused to fully feel before. I seal our lips together before any words can be uttered and before I can start analyzing what this is going to mean.
I kiss her deeply and passionately as I carry her back to my bedroom, feeling my way blindly down the hallway, bumping us into walls and into door frames. I interlace my fingers around the back of her, bearing her weight as she latches on to me by crossing her ankles behind my back. She keeps groaning, her tongue tangling forcefully with mine, sending my body into a spiraling frenzy of yearning, need, and ultimately fear of how much I want to be with her and not London anymore. I want Lila more than anything at the moment. I trip over some stuff on my floor and manage to bang my hip into the one of my drums, and then I finally stumble into the bed. We bounce when we hit the mattress and she laughs against my lips but keeps her eyes shut.
I pull back a little and her eyelids flutter open. She looks perplexed and lost, among a thousand other emotions that probably match my own.
“What?” she asks, self-consciously. Her legs are still fastened around me and her arms are locked around my neck. “Is something… is something wrong?”
A thousand things are wrong, I want to say. I’m feeling too much for you, Lila. I can’t do this. I’m getting too caught up in you and if I keep going eventually we’ll hate each other. I’ll break you. Ruin you—us. I’ll mess up. But my voice refuses to work and so I kiss her instead. Fiercely. Forcefully. With heat, desire, and hunger suffocating both of us as we drown in each other’s feelings. Our bodies align and press together as I kiss her with all the pent-up energy I’ve been collecting since the first day we met. I’ve lost all control over my actions. Rules don’t exist. The past and the future dissolve and only this moment exists.