The Temptation of Lila and Ethan ts-3

by Jessica Sorensen

  Her cheeks flush a little and I wonder what she’s thinking about. “But you never said why you’re doing it?”

  “Because… I like you, Lila. You’re a good friend and you need help.” Friend. I need to remember that.

  She mulls over what I said, which was nothing but the truth. “Poetic, sappy movies, huh? Do those even exist?”

  “I guess you’ll have to figure that out.” I grin. “Otherwise, I guess no movies.”

  She sucks her lip between her teeth, her blue eyes brighter than I’ve seen them in the last few days, which makes my heart speed up a little. “I might just have to live without them, then.” She faces forward in the seat and the fading sunlight glows against her face, her skin soft, her lips full, and she doesn’t have any makeup on, which is rare for her. And honestly, I prefer her without it because right now she looks fucking gorgeous in the realest way possible. “So what am I supposed to be doing here exactly?” She motions at the sandy land in front of us.

  The sound of her voice tears me from my thoughts of her and I focus on the windshield. “You’re going to drive.”

  “Drive?” She seems hesitant. “Like back to the apartment?”

  “Eventually.” I extend my arm over the console and push the four-wheel-drive button. The truck grinds and then locks in. As I lean away, my arm grazes her chest and it takes a lot of energy not to lean over and touch her more. “But first I want you to drive around here.”

  She blinks at me, stunned. “Are you joking?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?” I stare at her with a serious expression.

  She shakes her head with reluctance, looking horrified. “No, and I’m wondering if you lost your mind or something. Maybe when you hit that hard bump in the road on the way up here and you hit your head on the window, which is going to be a mild injury compared to what could happen if you let me drive.”

  “Don’t worry about crashing it,” I reassure her and relax back in the seat. “You’ll be fine.”

  Her jaw drops as she grips the wheel. “Are you being serious right now? You have driven with me before.”

  “I remember.” I laugh under my breath, thinking about how terrified I was as she recklessly weaved in and out of traffic. “I seriously thought I was going to fucking die.”

  She lightly punches me on the arm and I wince, but laugh. “Oh, now the asshole is going to make a grand appearance.”

  Stifling my laughter, I rub the spot where she hit me. “I’m just stating the obvious.” I reach over and turn the keys, then lean back in the seat. “Now come on and drive. As long as you stay on the straightaway and keep the acceleration up, we’ll be fine.”

  “And what if I don’t go fast enough?”

  “Then we’ll get stuck.”

  She looks worried, and even though I’m not letting on, so am I. There are so many things that could go wrong right now, but it’s fun and adrenaline pumping and that’s what she needs. Good, reckless fun, without the pills, because right now, she’ll be able to feel the exhilaration of it and I’m not sure how long it’s been since she’s felt anything at all besides need.

  Her shoulders rise and fall as she attempts to release the stress, and then finally she shoves the shifter into drive and presses on the gas. I try to stay calm, but when the truck lurches forward, I tense and grip the handle above my head.

  “Easy,” I say, grinding my teeth. “Just go slow.”

  She huffs in frustration and then lets off the gas a little. The truck gradually inches forward, the engine lagging a little. She starts to smile as she maneuvers the truck up the sandy slope, but then her face plummets as the tires protest against the lack of traction and the truck rolls back.

  “Push on the gas harder,” I instruct, waving at her to go forward.

  “But you just said not to give it a lot of gas,” she says, placing her hand on the shifter.

  “Except when we’re going uphill.”

  She frowns and then floors the gas way too much and we lurch forward. I slam my head on the headrest and hear something on her side hit something hard. When I glance up, she has the heel of her hand pressed to her forehead.

  “Is your head okay?” I ask as I rub my own.

  She nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

  I cringe as the engine cuts in and out. “Lila, go, before we get stuck.”

  She throws her hands up exasperatedly. “I don’t know why you’re having me do this.”

  “For fun,” I explain. “You need to have some fun in your life.”

  I must have said the magic words or something because she places her hands on top of the steering wheel and hits the gas way too hard again, the truck jerking forward. This time I’m ready and I grip the door handle, keeping myself in place. She whines in discouragement, but continues driving. The longer she does it, the more relaxed she gets and so do I, even when she hits the ramping hills and some of the bumps in the road. As she drives over a particularly large bump and the truck rumbles, bounces, and shakes, she starts to laugh.

  When the truck gets on flat land again, she laughs harder and the truck starts to slow down. Ultimately, she stops it completely near the edge of the rocky road and rests her head on the steering wheel. Her shoulders shake as she sputters laugh after laugh. I remain quiet for as long as I possibly can, until I can’t take it anymore.

  “Care to share what’s so funny?” I ask, flipping the visor down.

  She shakes her head from side to side without looking up at me. “It’s nothing.”

  “Come on, share. It’s driving me crazy.”

  “Well, if I tell you, then you’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  “If you don’t, I’m going to think that anyway,” I joke, but I’m being sort of serious.

  She sighs, disheartened, and raises her head up. Tears stain her blue eyes and I have a hard time telling if they’re from the laughter or if she was crying while her head was down. She dabs the corners of her eyes with her fingertips and blinks the tears back.

  “It’s just that… this is the most fun that I’ve had in a long time.” She shakes her head like she’s disappointed with herself. “Which is just silly.”

  “It’s not silly,” I say, resisting the urge to wipe her tears away. “I think it’s fun, and trust me, I’m not silly at all.” I flash a grin at her.

  She gazes at me intently. “No, you kind of are, but in a good way.”

  I’m not sure how to respond to her since it seems like she’s being genuine, but genuine about my being silly. “Lila, there’s actually a reason why I brought you out here.”

  She pushes the truck into park and presses down on the parking break before rotating in the seat to face me. “I figured as much.”

  “I just want to know what your plans are,” I say, staring at the sky. The sun is setting and the lights of the city in the far distance illuminate the skyline.

  “Plans for what?” She sounds confused.

  I focus my attention on her. “Just with stuff.”

  “You’re already getting sick of me, aren’t you? Look, Ethan, I can totally move out. I have a few friends I can stay with until I find somewhere else.”

  “And how are you going to pay for this other place?” I ask. “And who are these other friends you’ll be staying with? Guy friends?” Why the hell did I just ask that?

  “Hey, I have other friends.” She presses her hand to her chest, offended. “You’re just my favorite.” She’s not joking when she says that, and for some reason it makes me happy and also makes me mentally roll my eyes at myself.

  “That doesn’t answer how you can pay for your own place,” I say, unbuckling my seat belt.

  She tips her chin down and twists the platinum ring on her finger. “I have no idea.”

  I reach over and fix my finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at me. “Hey, you’re totally taking me wrong here anyway. All I want to talk about is our plans for moving forward.”

  “Our plans?” she asks, assessi
ng me with skepticism.

  “Yeah, you and I and the place we now both call home,” I explain, removing my finger from her chin.

  “Oh, you want me to start paying rent.” She frees a trapped breath.

  “Yes and no… I know you’re going to probably need a little more time to heal and what not, but I think we should probably discuss how this is going to work a little further down the road.” I flip the handle of the door, hating to say it but knowing it has to be said. “Like maybe when you’re feeling better, you could get a job and start helping out.” I’m trying to be subtle, but it’s hard. “I just think that maybe if you were doing just a little bit more stuff, like working and finding some kind of hobby, things might be a little easier.”

  “I know that,” she says quietly, her brow puckering as she stares at the scars on her wrist. I asked her once where they came from and she said it was from something really stupid she did, which makes me wonder if she got them when she got the ankle one. “But I have no idea where to start.”

  “I’ll help you,” I assure her, reaching over and giving her knee a gentle squeeze. “I’m not going to let you go at this alone. And when you’re ready, we can talk more… about anything that you want to. I’m an excellent listener.”

  “I know you are.” She stares at me for an eternity, searching my eyes, like she doesn’t quite believe I’m real. When she finally opens her mouth, I have no idea what she’s going to say. “Thank you.” She unlocks her seat belt and leans over, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

  I’m stunned. Despite all the touching we’ve done, this feels different. More intimate and personal and I realize that despite the fact that we’ve touched each other in places most friends don’t, we’ve never actually kissed each other, a real passionate, lips-devouring kiss. And I want to kiss her so much it takes a lot of inner strength to keep my hands to myself. My instincts shout for me to jump out of the truck and run through the desert back to the apartment, far, far away from her. But the need to help her keeps me in the seat. I need to help her, like I didn’t help London. This is my second chance to get things right and I want to make things right with Lila and with us. It’s an overpowering, binding, magnetic feeling, one I’m unsure what to do with other than keep going.

  When she leans back in the driver’s seat, the look on her face is unreadable. “What do we do now?”

  I shrug and then my mouth turns upward. “How about we go home and watch a sappy, poetic movie?”

  “Home?” She says it like it’s unreal, like homes don’t exist. “Yeah, let’s go home.” She opens the door and jumps out into the sand, then turns around and aims a finger at me. “But you’re driving. I’m so flipping scared I’m going to wreck your truck.” She blows me a kiss and then slams the door, acting just like the Lila I met a year ago, only she’s not because the Lila I met never really existed. She was a mirage created by pills.

  Strangely enough, I’m not the same person when I met her because what I’m doing right now—what I’m feeling at this exact moment—is something I never thought I’d do or feel. Dependency—the thing I hate. I’ve seen it in action, through drugs and through relationships, like my mom’s dependency for my dad, but I’m letting her be dependent on me, and in a weird way, I’m kind of relying on her to let me help her and trusting her to get better.

  Even though she’s been a pain in the ass for the last few days, the thought of Lila moving out, living with another friend, annoys me. I kind of want her to live with me and that leaves me confused because it means that for the first time since London, I want someone to be in my life. I want Lila, more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.

  Chapter Ten

  Lila

  I’ve been living with Ethan for two weeks and I’ve been pill free for two days, not even taking my half pills anymore. It’s a strange feeling, one I’m still adjusting to and learning how to handle. I’d never realized how altered things would get when I was popping pills. Even the heat of the sun feels a little more blistering. Plus, I haven’t slept with anyone. I think it’s a record for me. Even when I dated guys, like my fleeting relationship with Parker a year ago, the relationship was based solely on sex that I barely felt, barely remembered. This has been my life since the first time I had sex. Even then, I had no idea what I was getting into, and when I finally did, it was too late. The things that happened forever changed who I was and how I saw things. I’ve pretty much never looked at guys the same way since, except for Ethan. He’s a genuinely nice guy, which is rare, and makes our situation complex. Ethan and I have always had an interesting relationship, one that’s pushed the boundaries of friendship yet hasn’t quite crossed it. Now that we spend so much time together we barely touch each other, despite the fact that we’re constantly defying friendship boundaries. Like when he walked into the bathroom while I was taking a shower this morning.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I’d yelled when I heard the door open and shut.

  “Relax, I’m just getting my toothbrush,” he’d replied and then I heard him rummaging around in the medicine cabinet.

  “If you don’t get out of here, I’m going to pull back the curtain and flash you.” I said, feeling squirmy about the fact that the curtain was very thin and nearly clear, almost see-through.

  The water turned on and then he busted up laughing. “Okay, best punishment ever.”

  My stomach fluttered with butterflies as I smoothed back my wet hair and cracked the curtain back, peering out at him. “You know just as well as I do that you do not want to see me naked.” I’m not even sure why I said it—whether I’m challenging him to admit something I hope exists or if I really do believe he doesn’t want me that way.

  He was wearing a pair of plaid drawstring pajama bottoms and no shirt. He had a toothbrush in hand and he was leaning over the sink, staring at the curtain. “Do you not know me at all?” He cocked an eyebrow as he stuck his toothbrush, coated with toothpaste, into his mouth. “I love seeing naked women.” His voice sounded funny and he waggled his eyebrows, completely cool and casual.

  I narrowed my eyes, wondering just how much he could see of me through the curtain, and wondering if I cared. “Yeah, but you made the friend line between us for a reason.” I was being blunt and I didn’t know why. I blamed it on withdrawals because I was learning quickly that they could make me insane and turn me into a crazy, emotional mess. “And you…” I almost bring up that night when we touched each other, but I’m scared.

  His eyebrows knitted and he leaned over the sink, spitting out a mouth full of toothpaste. “No, we both agreed on that line, I thought.” He rinsed off his brush and returned it into the holder near the sink. Then he turned around, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms. “Am I wrong about that? Do you… do you… What do you want?”

  Why is he asking me this? What does it mean? Why am I asking myself so many questions?

  Water ran down my eyes and face as I discreetly gazed at his body. He’s so beautiful in a way I’m not used to. A rough beauty, one that has substance, the kind that’s real, not masked by tans, perfectly sculpted bodies, and fancy suits and ties. He’s art, pure and simple—wispy hair that always falls into place right over his dark, smoldering eyes, creating the perfect shadowy look and those tattoos… dear God, the tattoos. He is the kind of art you really have to look at to get what it means—to understand what he’s thinking.

  I suddenly realized just how out of character I was. I was noticing him more than I normally do and I could feel it through every inch of my body, the pulsating urge to fling the shower curtain back and beg him to take me now. Beg him to. I never do that with sex. Usually guys just take it from me and I shut my feelings off. But I was contemplating going there with him, asking him for the first time, and being sober. It was making me wonder if I really knew who I was. All these years, the person I’d become was based on pills and this crazy need to feel loved.

  We stared at each other for a while, and then Ethan cleared his throat
and stood up straight, heading to the door. “If you want, we can pack up the rest of your clothes and go down to that consignment store and see if you can get anything for them.” His voice sounded a little off pitch, but his expression was unfaltering.

  I nodded, trying to stand motionless through the steam and the heat coiling up my inner thighs. “Sounds good.”

  He smiled, and then winked, his gaze skimming to the curtain hiding my body, and then he walked out, shutting the door behind him. I released the curtain, moving back below the showerhead, allowing the water to wash the heat and want off my body and down the drain, telling myself I’d get over it—get over Ethan. But for some reason, the idea seemed unlikely and very out of reach.

  “So how much do you think I can get for all of this?” I ask Ethan as he loads up the back of the truck with boxes of my clothes. My beautiful clothes I never want to let go of, but I know I need to in order to buy things like, say, food. I thought it would feel horrible to do this, and it kind of does, but there’s also simplicity in it, like I’m getting a do-over, which I know isn’t real, but at the moment everything feels real. Like the heat and the way my clothes stick to my damp skin. How my hair is in a messy ponytail, tugging at the nape of my neck. My hair has never been this messy and my cuticles never this dry. But I’m in simplicity land, where BMWs and designer purses and platinum rings don’t exist and I’m trying to figure out what kind of person I am and where I fit in all this. Can I handle being poor? Taking care of myself? Who do I want to be? Who is Lila Summers?

  Ethan heaves the last box into the bed of the truck and then slams the tailgate shut. “How the fuck would I know?” He wipes the sweat from his brow with his arm. He has on a green T-shirt and a pair of black shorts secured by a studded belt, along with an array of leather bands on his wrists. He’s sweaty and kind of cranky, but beneath the sunlight he’s freaking hot and I’m fixated on him.