I turn toward the couch, but he continues down my neck, nipping and sucking my exposed skin. “Ethan.” I swallow hard. “Maybe we should slow down a bit.”
He makes a noise that’s a mix between a growl and a grunt. “Why? We’ve waited long enough, Charlotte.” My lips feel bruised and swollen as he devours them again before I can tell him to stop. When he reaches between us and cups my center, my eyes widen and my legs instinctively pull inward, but his hips keep them from closing. I can’t breathe as I drag in ragged breaths through my nose. Oh, God. Why isn’t he stopping? I try to tamp down the rising panic within me and stay calm, but I can’t.
My eyes squeeze shut and the only thing I see is Nate’s face.
I can’t do this.
“Ethan.” His name comes out in a shaky whisper as his mouth moves down the center of my chest, his fingers hooking in the side of my underwear and rubbing my clit. My legs squeeze together again in an effort to stop his advances, but it doesn’t work.
“No, Ethan.” Pain radiates from my nipple as he pinches it hard through my clothes. “Stop, please.” His finger runs up the seam of my center, revealing how dry I am, but he doesn’t care and inserts a finger into me.
My eyes become blurry as they well up with tears.
“Stop.”
My heart beats in my ears and bile rises up my throat.
“Ethan.
“Stop!” This time I’m shouting as I push hard against his chest. It finally gets his attention. His movements freeze as he pulls back to look at me. I sit up and scoot back, trying to get away from him. “I-I can’t.”
Choco springs up onto the couch and growls at Ethan, placing himself between us. My whole body shakes and I can’t meet his eyes, shame and humiliation taking over. I wrap my arms around myself as tight as possible, but it does nothing to warm me as I continue to shiver while tears run down my face.
“Oh, God, what’s wrong?” he asks, concern clear in his tone. My only response is to shake my head. I can’t speak as my emotions strangle my vocal chords, holding my words hostage. “Charlotte, talk to me.” He kneels down on the floor to look up at my face.
“I-I asked y-you to stop, and-and you w-wouldn’t.” My eyes finally chance a glance at Ethan and it looks like the wind has been knocked out of him as what I’m implying registers.
He falls back and sits on the floor. “Charlotte, I would never hurt you. Oh my God, you know that, right?” I don’t respond as I look away. “Please, you have to believe that. I didn’t hear you. I was so wrapped up in what we were doing that I didn’t hear you. I’m so sorry.”
I press my lips together to keep them from quivering. From the corner of my eye, I see him run his hands through his black hair as he lets out a resigned sigh. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I hope you can forgive me,” he says into the quiet room.
He stands like he’s about to leave, but turns back toward me. My body tenses, desperate for him to go. “Please tell me you’re okay. I need to know you’re okay.”
What can I say? I’m not okay. I’m not sure what happened, but all I know is it felt wrong. When I don’t give him the clear conscience he needs, he says, “I’ll let myself out.”
I watch as he leaves with his head down. As soon as the door shuts, I fall apart. He says he didn’t mean to, but I’ve never felt so violated in my life. On shaky legs, I stand up, lock the door, and walk into the bathroom. My stomach clenches as soon as I look at myself in the mirror. I’m a wreck with a tear-stained face, bloodshot eyes, and pale skin.
I turn on the shower to the hottest setting it’ll go, needing the smell of Ethan off of my body. After it’s warmed up, I step in and let the water scald my skin. It only hurts for a minute before I go numb and stand there lifelessly.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but when I come back to the here and now, pins and needles are hitting my body as I’m beat down by ice cold water. Turning the water off, I walk out of the shower and climb into bed soaking wet.
Choco jumps up into the bed and snuggles up to my side, resting his head on my stomach. He’s not allowed up here, but he must know I need him right now. I stroke his head, trying desperately to rid myself of this vile feeling I can’t shake.
I don’t know what to do or where to go from here. I can’t avoid him forever; we work together. But one thing is for sure, I need to get the hell away from Ethan Peck.
I’VE BEEN AVOIDING Ethan like the plague all week. If he walks into the breakroom, I walk out. I pretend I’m on the phone with a customer if he approaches my desk, and I text him excuses for why I’m not taking his calls. As much as I’m trying to distance myself from him, he’s just not taking the hint.
I glance up from my computer screen to see him walking by with a client. His eyes are trained on me the whole time he passes, making my skin crawl. Every time I see him, all I feel are his frenzied hands all over my body as I kept asking him to stop. He’s apologized a million times over since this past weekend, but it doesn’t change how he violated me. Eventually I’ll have to talk to him, but for now I cloak myself in avoidance, hoping I won’t have to address this for another day.
Lunchtime rolls around and Ethan is sitting in the break room, so I take my lunch out to my car and eat it there. I turn my radio on and switch it to Bluetooth. Not really sure what I’m in the mood for, I put it on shuffle and let my phone decide. As soon as I hear the opening beats, I recognize the song and am transported back in time.
Nate is being a good sport and went shopping with me. I’m humming along to the songs playing through the store as I comb through the racks when I’m Yours by Jason Mraz comes on. I love this song. It’s upbeat, light, and super sweet. Suddenly, a hand on my arm spins me around until I collide into a hard chest, the sudden movement making me gasp.
With warmth in his eyes as he stares down at me, he grabs my right hand and wraps his arm around my waist before moving us to the music. Here we are dancing in the middle of the store like a couple of loons and I can’t stop giggling as he spins me around.
“People are staring at us,” I say through my laughter.
“Let them stare.” Leaning down, he places a tender kiss to my lips that sets my soul on fire.
I don’t know how many people are watching, but I’ve almost forgotten where we are. Because in this moment, he’s the only thing I can focus on. In the three months we’ve dated, he has consumed not only all of my thoughts, but my heart too.
The final note plays and he dips me backwards, causing me to laugh. A few people clapping draws my attention away from Nate when he stands me back upright. My cheeks flush at all the attention.
He cups my face, bringing my focus to him again. “Did you listen to the words?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that song a million times. It’s one of my favorites.”
“I’m yours, Charlotte. I love you.”
I’ve felt this way for a while, but have always been too scared to say the words first. Now that he’s said it, they come bursting out of me. “I love you, too.”
His mouth curves into a smile before he seals his lips over mine, knocking the wind out of me while breathing in new life.
I hit skip to play the next song, having a hard time reliving the memory. To get my mind off of it, I dig out my phone and call up Paige. Hopefully she’s not busy at work and can take the call.
“I was just thinking about you,” she answers.
“Only good things I’m sure,” I reply.
“You know it.” We both laugh before she says, “I’m on my lunch break so I don’t have much time, but what’s up?”
“I’m on break too and a little bored. Thought I’d see what you’ve been up to.”
“You know me; same shit, different day.” She sounds anything but thrilled, and I know the feeling.
“No boyfriend to help spice up your life?” I tease.
She groans through the line. “Nope, no boyfriend, but let me tell you what that ass did this time.”
My brow furrows. “Who’s the ass?”
She pauses. “Sean,” she says as if I should’ve already known the answer to my question. I laugh quietly to myself. “Anyway, he text messaged me this morning and said ‘I’m going to send you a Dick pic.’ Naturally, I start to panic, but before I can type out ‘no,’ do you know what he sends me?”
“I can only imagine.”
“A picture of Dick Van Dyke,” she deadpans.
I bust out laughing. “How do you not think he’s funny? Are you just disappointed it wasn’t a legit dick pic?”
“Ugh, no!”
“Come on, you didn’t laugh at all?”
“Maybe a little,” she admits quietly.
“See? I don’t know why you’re fighting it.” I shake my head in disbelief.
“It’s not called fighting when you’re not interested.”
“Liar,” I mutter, but I know she hears me.
“Is Ethan wooing you with his sense of humor then?” This is her attempt to get the focus off of her and onto me. She’s never been one to be forthcoming about her romantic life, or lack of.
“Ethan isn’t funny. He’s . . . intense.” I try to mask my feelings, but I know I fail by the shift in my tone and the tension in my body. I haven’t told anyone what happened yet. I’m still trying to understand it myself. Did he do something wrong or did I overreact? The whole situation has left me shocked, scared, and embarrassed, and I’m not ready to discuss it.
“I’m going to be honest; I don’t think you like Ethan as much as you’re trying to convince yourself you do. Since you two met, you’ve seemed very ho-hum about him.”
I don’t like him at all right now. “You’re right. I think I was holding on to Ethan hoping it makes me forget about Nate,” I admit.
“Maybe you don’t need to forget about Nate.” I’m quiet as I take in what she said. “Have you talked to him at all since you left?”
“Just twice; briefly at the hospital and once on the phone.”
“I love you and you know I’m always here for you, but maybe that’s your problem. You never talked to Nate about your problems before moving out. You just said, ‘Hey, I’m unhappy and by the way I want a divorce.’ You ran from the problem instead of trying to solve it.”
My eyes protrude and my anger rises. “You think I wanted my marriage to fail?”
“No, but can you honestly say you gave Nate a chance to right his wrongs?”
“He never listens when I talk to him, why would this be any different?” I sound defensive even to my own ears. “Plus, part of the problem is his work schedule. Even if he did hear me and wanted to fix our issues, that wouldn’t change. I don’t want to be in a big house alone anymore. I want to feel like I have a partner in life, not be a placeholder for someone’s convenience.”
“And those are all valid wants, Charlotte. But I can hear the tears in your voice, and that must mean you still love him. All I’m saying is it’s never too late. Talk to him. If anything, get some closure.”
I sniff as I will back the tears that well up in my eyes. Everything she said is right, but I don’t know how to change it.
“Just think about it, okay?” she says when I don’t respond.
“Alright. I’ve got to go, but I’ll talk to you later.”
“Love ya, girl.”
“Love ya, too.”
How did my life get this complicated? It feels like I’m out of control with no real direction anymore. What I once wanted isn’t what I want now. The thing that plays in my mind now is how could I get this so wrong? How could I go so far as to leave my husband for seven months and then realize I’ve made a mistake? What kind of person does that make me?
At this point, I’m not even sure how to reach out to Nate and I wouldn’t have the first clue as to what to say. I’m not looking to reconcile immediately because I don’t know if anything has changed, but the longer this goes on, the harder it is to ignore the parts of me screaming to go talk to him. I’ve been lying to myself every day, but there’s one truth I can finally admit to myself.
I miss him.
The work day is finally over and that means I can go home, get into some comfortable clothes, and hang out on the couch with my dog. I’m standing beside my car, but can’t find my keys. I’m digging through the body bag I call a purse getting irritated. I just want to get out of here.
“Charlotte!” My body tenses and I close my eyes, not ready to face him yet. The sound of feet hitting the pavement lets me know he’s jogging toward me. With a deep breath, I turn around to face the direction he’s coming from. “Hey,” he says with a smile. The same smile he always sports as if everything is normal.
“Hey.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.” It’s not a question, and I’m not sure how he wants me to respond. My eyes focus on the asphalt, refusing to meet his eyes. “You think I tried to hurt you on purpose, don’t you?”
When I look up, his green eyes hold so much remorse and pain, I want to believe him. I shake my head. “No, but you still did and I’m trying to process it.”
He nods, looking away from me this time. “I can’t say it enough. I truly am sorry.”
“I know.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you. I want you to eventually be my wife and I’ve messed it all—”
“Whoa.” I hold my hand up and stare at him unmoving, stunned by his comment. “Look, I had fun, but I can’t do this anymore. You’re moving a little faster than I’m ready for and I think it’s best if I’m alone for a while.” He doesn’t respond, so I add, “Maybe we can be friends for now.” Honestly, I just want to be away from him, but I’m hoping the offer of friendship softens the blow. I stick my hand back in my bag, desperate to find my keys now more than ever. A sense of relief hits me as soon as I grasp the cool piece of metal that will get me out of here.
His jaw ticks as he tries to maintain a neutral facial expression. “Sure, whatever you need,” he replies after several moments.
“Thanks.” I try to give him a warm smile, but I know I’m not fooling anyone. With a curt nod, he turns on his heel and walks away.
Everything I said was true, but I omitted a big part of it. Even if I was ready to move on with someone, that someone wouldn’t be Ethan.
THREE WEEKS HAVE gone by since I told Ethan I needed some space. To say I was nervous about how he’d act afterward would be an understatement. To my surprise, however, he has backed off completely, allowing me to breathe again. It is a little awkward at work and there’s some tension, but it’s gotten better with time. He’s made no real attempt to engage in conversation other than saying hi. With as pushy as he’s always been, I’m shocked he’s been respectful of my feelings.
I haven’t reached out to Nate yet either, and the more time that passes, the more I’m afraid it’s too late. You’d think that would give me more motivation to do it, but it’s quite the opposite. My fear is almost paralyzing; it plagues me in my sleep.
I have a recurring dream where I walk up to the house and am met with heartbreaking rejection. The way in which he rejects me differs from dream to dream. Sometimes he’s silent and slams the door in my face, other times he screams and yells and calls me every name imaginable. Maybe this is my subconscious giving me what I deserve.
As a distraction, I’ve been indulging in some retail therapy. Other than a TV, I never bought anything else for my apartment and it’s still pretty bare. I ordered a new dresser from Target online, but I’m not loving it, so I need to return it and find something else. I know this won’t be an easy feat and I hope I don’t break my neck trying to get this downstairs and into my car.
After struggling to get this thing back in its box, I’ve already broken a sweat. “Okay, I’ve got this,” I say under my breath.
After I push the box out of the front door, I realize my only option is to try to slide it down the steps since it’s too heavy and big to pick up.
I grab the holder in the sid
e of the box and try to ease it down the first step without breaking everything. It thumps down the first stair and threatens to drag me down with it. I’m feeling like this was a bad idea, but it’s a little late to go back now. I’m about to take another step down when I hear, “Wait! Let me help you.” A second later, the majority of the weight is taken from me. “Can you lift up your end or is it too heavy?” Ethan asks.
“I think I can manage my side,” I reply. I’m able to help him carry the dresser the rest of the way down and set it on the ground with a huff. “Thanks,” I say out of breath.
“No problem.” He pauses. “Let me help you get it in your car.”
I do my best to help him lift it into my trunk, but he does most of the work. I definitely underestimated how hard this was going to be.
“Where are you headed?” he asks.
“Target. I need to return this and try to find another one.”
“I could ride with you to help unload it, and if you buy another one, then I can put it in your car for you,” he offers.
I shake my head. “No, it’s not necessary.”
“I don’t mind. That’s what friends do, right?”
I study his face for anything that would lead me to believe he has some ulterior motive, but I come up empty. He looks contrite and nervous. It’s evident in the way he rocks on the heels of his feet and how his hands are shoved deep into his pockets. It’s in the way his eyebrows are raised and pulled in as his eyes show nothing but remorse. Gone is the cocky, in your face persona, and standing before me is a man who’s pleading with me to let him back in.
My body tenses for a second as memories flood my mind. He says he didn’t mean to hurt me, and maybe he didn’t. Maybe if I had said something earlier, or had spoken louder he would’ve heard me. My brain does this back and forth battle not wanting to believe Ethan is a malicious person. Deep down, I don’t think he is, but it’s hard to reconcile with the other half of me that is still too raw to listen to him.
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