I head for the bathroom as soon as we walk through the front door. The chlorine from the pool earlier is making my skin and scalp itch.
I take my time in the shower, letting the hot water work over the tension I’m carrying in my shoulders and back. Slowly the knots begin to unfold as my mind mulls over our situation.
On one hand, it might seem like we’re rushing things if we sleep together tonight. The rational side of me knows we have the rest of our lives to do that, and we don’t have to rush things because Ethan’s going to be gone for the next ten months. I want things between us to be perfect, and maybe having sex so soon in our relationship isn’t a good idea.
On the other hand, why stop ourselves? I like the idea of throwing caution to the wind and doing what feels good. So much of my life has been spent doing what I thought was right. I could have lost Ethan because I thought I was following the rules of friendship. Telling Ethan I love him was the bravest and most indulgent thing I’ve ever done.
Harper’s not coming home tonight. She’s planning to stay at her friend’s house. I know she made plans on purpose, to let me and Ethan have some alone time. Which I suppose tells me exactly what she thinks should happen between Ethan and me tonight.
Quit overthinking this. I take a deep breath, my mind made up.
Now the question is, how are we supposed to get from this point to that point? The fluttering in my stomach starts back up again.
We could talk about it…but that might really detract from the romance of it all. And I want our first time to be special. Okay, so no talking about what’s going on.
Maybe I can let Ethan know in a non-verbal way. That way I save both of us the extreme embarrassment of turning this into something I will no doubt overanalyze and remove all the excitement from.
I finish my shower, dry off, and head for the top drawer of my dresser. I’m hunting for something satin and lace. The fabric feels so unfamiliar against my skin that I know it as soon as my hand brushes against it.
I lift it into the air, inspecting it. It’s bright yellow, which will complement the deep tan I’ve acquired from all my time by the pool this week, and it reaches to just above mid-thigh. The neckline is sweetheart, and the irony has me grinning wickedly. It’s a bit of an oxymoron, as sweetheart is not the word I’d use to describe the way the lingerie makes me feel. Sexy, brazen, tempting.
Is it really me feeling those things?
Off go the tags, and I pull it over my head. Silently I thank Harper, who was the one to insist a woman needs to own items such as this, even if they’re buying it for no one in particular. After a year in the back of a drawer, it’s finally seeing the light of day.
I look in the mirror, and my stomach instantly bundles back up into a tight ball of nerves. My confidence wavers. Who is this person wearing this lingerie? For Ethan, of all people.
His knock interrupts my freak out.
“Yeah?” My voice sounds strained.
“You okay? You’ve been in there for a long time. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t slip and hit your head or something.” Ethan sounds nervous.
“I’m good. I’ll be out in a sec.” I press my ear up against the bedroom door, listening for his retreat.
Once I know he’s gone, I take a deep breath. Then I take two more.
I shove all my reservations out of my head and open the door. Showtime.
Ethan’s on the couch, his back to me. A few steps carry me away from the safety of my door. He hasn’t turned around yet. I clear my throat.
Ethan’s head swivels. His eyes grow wide, his mouth falls open.
“What do you think?” I round the couch and stand in front of him. I’ve never been so daring in my whole life, and I’m striving to keep my bravado from cracking.
“Um… Yeah.” Ethan coughs. “You look…wow.” He coughs again.
“We didn’t talk about it, you know, but I just thought…” My voice trails off. Apparently neither of us possesses the ability to finish a sentence.
Ethan nods. He finally looks into my eyes. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are.”
We stare at each other, silent, absorbing this moment.
Ethan reaches for the blanket sitting balled up on the couch beside him and throws it off to the side. His eyes sweep to the now empty spot beside him.
“Is that an invitation to sit?” I tease. My voice is husky.
Again, Ethan glances back down to the empty spot, a small grin on his face.
My first instinct is to hop onto the sofa next to him, but I need to be mindful of my current outfit. Instead, I lower myself down next to him, tuck my legs underneath me and face him so we’re eye to eye.
Ethan reaches for my face as soon as I’m settled next to him. His fingers run through my wet hair, and he places light kisses on my forehead, my eyelids, my nose, my cheeks. He skips over my mouth, his lips landing on the hollow of my throat. I tip my head back, exposing the delicate length of skin. Ethan’s hand comes to rest at the back of my head, supporting it while his other hand traces a design from my ear down to my collarbone and across to my shoulder.
I hear myself sigh in satisfaction. Instinctively the blood begins to pool in my cheeks. It’s a natural reaction to not only what I’m doing, but to whom I’m doing it with.
Ethan’s head lifts from my neck, and he pulls back, his eyes thirsty and drinking me in.
“That blush makes you look even more beautiful.” He leans forward and I feel his smile against my lips. His kiss is long and deep, and leaves me wanting so much more.
I pull back, reach for the bottom of his shirt, then lift it past his torso and over his shoulders.
My hands skim over his chest, coming to rest at his shoulders. So big and broad. Automatically, I feel safe in the arms of my best friend. My Ethan. I pour myself into kissing him, my body pressed up against his.
Ethan hands aren’t moving beneath my collarbone, and though I’m no expert at this, I do know that at some point they have to. Maybe he's just really nervous.
I pull away again. Our eyes locked, I drag my arm through one flimsy strap. Ethan’s hand shoots out to stop me as I’m pulling my arm through the second strap.
“I’m sorry, was I ruining your plan?” I smile at him. Quickly my grin turns south. Ethan looks uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong?”
He bites his lip, and not in a sexy way. Worry etches lines in his forehead.
Embarrassment fills me. Obviously I made a mistake in being so forward. I look down at myself, mortified. I wish I were covered up by more than the scanty yellow lace and satin.
Ethan’s head drops into his hands. “Arrrrgh,” he groans, the sound full of frustration. “This is so stupid.” He shakes his head as it lies in his palms.
“What’s stupid, Ethan?” I’m trying to be patient, but it’s hard. I really want something to wrap around myself. I could easily go to my room and get my robe, or use the blanket that Ethan tossed somewhere, but that requires me to get up, showcasing the skimpy outfit even more. I’ll just have to stay put for now.
“I want to do this with you, Kate. I really do. I promise. Which is why I’m an idiot.” Ethan’s voice is angry, an anger I know is directed internally. Finally, he lifts his head from his hands and looks at me warily. “You look so beautiful. No guy would turn you down.”
“No guy but you.” I say it under my breath, but I mean for Ethan to hear me.
It’s immature, but my feelings are hurt. If I’d known Ethan was going to run off stage in the middle of the play, I certainly wouldn’t have gone to such great lengths. I’m wearing freaking lingerie! I look down at myself. This little number would have remained mostly forgotten in the back of my drawer, but I thought he and I were on the same page. Tears sting my eyes.
“Kate, why are you crying?” Ethan looks genuinely perplexed.
“Why ask, Ethan? Isn’t it obvious?” I point down at what is now clearly a ridiculous and embarrassing outfit. “Being rejected sucks. And it sucks
even more when you’re not only rejected by your boyfriend, but rejected by him while you’re wearing an outfit that should make him do the opposite!” Another tear rolls down my face.
“Katie, now you’re the idiot.” Ethan looks at me with exasperation.
“Name calling isn’t making this mortifying situation any better.” I sniff. I need a tissue. At least that's in arms length of me. I pull a few from the box on the coffee table. Briefly I consider fashioning a cover and making my escape to my bedroom, where I can grab some clothes and have this conversation without being practically naked.
“Of course I want to do this with you!” Ethan’s voice rises. He goes back to looking frustrated and worried.
My hands come out in front of me, palms up, asking the question, “What’s the problem, then?”
“The issue is that I’m not sure it’s the best thing for us yet. I’ve been going over it in my head all night. Believe me, I want to. Look at you,” Ethan’s eyes rake over me. I cross my arms over my chest.
“I would prefer you not look at me right now.”
Ethan smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t mean to make you feel rejected. It’s really not you, I promise. It’s me.”
“It’s not you, it’s me.” I echo sarcastically.
“Katie…” Ethan looks at me pleadingly.
I melt. “Fine, I believe you. It’s you. You’re the crazy one.”
“Yes, I am. I’ve been fantasizing about you for years. Believe me, the next steps have been mapped out in my head for a very long time. And I want to take those next steps, I promise, but for some reason, I just can’t.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s hard to explain. Mostly I don’t want to rush anything. I want everything to be perfect for us, and it seems needless to hurry something like this. Am I making sense?” Ethan's intense gaze implores me.
“I suppose you make sense.” I had the same reservations. “It would have been nice if you had told me what you were thinking. Before I embarrassed myself with this dumb outfit.” I gesture with disgust at my racy article of clothing.
He shakes his head emphatically. “I love what you’re wearing, Kate. Please don’t be embarrassed. Actually”—he smiles, fingering the strap still lying lifelessly against my arm—”I hope there’s a lot more where this came from.”
I swat his hand away, trying hard not to think about how good those hands and lips were making me feel a few minutes ago. It’s even more difficult not to think about how much better it could have gotten. Roughly I yank the strap back up over my shoulder.
“Well, keep hoping. This is the one piece of lingerie I own.” I’m pouting now, and the embarrassment creeps back. My cheeks grow hot again.
“Maybe we can fix that.” His looks optimistic with his eyebrows raised and his top teeth digging into his lower lip.
“Why? So we can not have sex again in the future? Ethan, maybe you’re unaware of the point of this”—I gesture down to the yellow fabric—“but it implies a certain ending.” I lift my eyebrows suggestively, then trade the look for a serious face. “And this isn’t it.”
He laughs in response. “Kate, I love you. I know you’re embarrassed. And you hate being embarrassed. It’s okay. I’m really sorry I made you feel self-conscious. Now, listen to me.” He grabs my shoulders, his grip gentle. “You are beyond sexy and beautiful, especially with that on, and I very much want to make love to you. I’ve already explained why I can’t, so I won’t say it again. But in the future, when I’m done with the Army and we don’t have to feel like we’re rushing anything, we’ll finish what we started tonight. And you will have a drawer full of this stuff.” Ethan gathers a handful of the lace barely covering my thighs. “I promise, I like it. A lot.”
“Fine.” I sniff theatrically. He laughs at me.
I climb off the couch and turn for my room. His hand catches mine.
“Where are you going?”
“To change.” I tug my hand, but he’s not letting go.
“Can’t you keep that on?” He looks hopeful.
“Um, no.”
“Please? I like torture.” Ethan raises one eyebrow, emphasizing his appeal.
Hmm… My pride is still wounded from the rejection Ethan assures me isn’t really a rejection. I grin, feeling wicked. This is going to be fun.
“You like torture?” I ask innocently, cocking my head to the side.
Ethan’s head bobs in confirmation. I smile sweetly at him.
“Well, in that case…” I stop pulling against his hand that’s holding me back. I place my free hand on his chest and push him back against the couch. Ethan’s eyes widen, and he drops my other hand.
“Wha…?”
“Shhh, it’s okay. You like torture. You said so yourself.” I bat my eyelashes coquettishly. Placing my hands on Ethan’s shoulders I sink down on his lap, so that my legs hug either side of his body. Ethan’s still shirtless, so I run my fingertips over his perfect chest and down his abs. I circle back up his arms to his shoulders, pressing into him gently, and place my lips right next to his ear. Softly I sigh.
Ethan groans. The sound is frustrated, but it’s a little something else, too. I take this as encouragement, moving my lips from his ear to his mouth. Lightly I run my tongue across the length of his lower lip, taking it in my mouth and giving it a tiny little bite. Ethan groans again. This time the sound is a whole lot less frustrated and a whole lot more of the something else I heard before. I pull back, satisfied Ethan has suffered enough.
He looks at my amused smile. I know I look satisfied. And I don’t care. Ethan leans his head back on the couch and closes his eyes.
“Go change, Kate. Please, put on something that covers you head to toe. Otherwise…” His unfinished sentence hangs in the air.
I would like for Ethan to complete his sentence, preferably using a physical demonstration. My plan had been to torture him a little, let him get just a small taste of what he was postponing to an undetermined later date, but it wasn’t easy on me either. Only my desire to respect Ethan’s feelings is keeping me from suggesting he finish his sentence.
I climb off Ethan’s lap. “One muumuu, coming up.”
He doesn’t respond.
I glance back over my shoulder before walking into my bedroom. Ethan’s head is still laid back on the couch, eyes closed.
8
Ethan
“Fooood,” Kate grumbles through a sleepy haze. “Coffee.”
“Yes, both of those things are in your near future if you get up. We’re supposed to meet my parents in twenty minutes.” Gently I tug her arm.
I know she’s going to remember last night the moment she’s fully awake. I don’t want her to feel embarrassed, but I know she will. I hated the rejection in her eyes, but it had to happen. Our first time together needs to be more special than she can ever imagine it.
Stopping her was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Her skin was soft, and so much of it was visible. That yellow lingerie she had on was mind-blowing. It doesn’t matter that I’ve seen her in a bikini at least a hundred times. What she wore last night was for my eyes only.
I see the faint pink in Kate’s cheeks, but I ignore it. She doesn’t want to re-hash last night, and neither do I. It took every ounce of self-control for me to sleep next to her and not go back on my words. If we start talking about it again this morning, who knows what’ll happen? My patience and restraint stores are almost depleted.
Kate’s stomach growls, and it’s exactly what I need to hear to kick me out of her warm bed. I swing my legs over the side, yawning hugely as I stand.
“You have to hurry,” I remind her again.
I look down at the bed where Kate’s stretching and making these adorable mewling sounds.
“We overslept.” I bend to kiss the top of her head. “I’m going to change. I’ll see you out there in a minute, okay?”
She nods and throws back the covers. I leave to give her privacy and grab clothes from th
e bag that’s in her living room.
It’s probably good we overslept. It means less time for moping. I’m leaving today, and the less I think about it the better.
While Kate gets ready I send a message to my mom telling her we’re running behind. Then I look around to make sure I have everything. And I do. I’ve left nothing behind. Except my white T-shirt. And my heart.
***
Breakfast with my parents is good, but sad too. By the time our order arrives my mom's crying. She sits across from me, attempting to wipe her eyes surreptitiously. Nobody’s fooled.
“Mom, it’s only ten more months. And then it's all over.” I know my words fall on deaf ears.
“I know, I know. Can’t a mom be emotional over her son? Her only child?” She tries to smile, but another tear slips out.
I hand her a new napkin. She balls up her used one and adds it to the small but quickly growing mound on the table in front of her.
“Let’s talk about you two.” She changes the subject.
I take the bait. “What about us?”
“When’s the wedding?” She grins, a little of her usual spunkiness showing through.
My dad pretends to choke on his orange juice. “Come on, Evelyn, try to give the kids some space to be crazy about each other before they go making it binding by law.” He winks at Mom.
I like hearing him use her full first name. He’s the only person who ever does.
Dad turns to me. “Sorry, son, I tried to stop her. She wouldn’t listen to me.” He lifts his hands up in defeat.
“It’s okay. She’s a steamroller.”
My arm goes around Kate, pulling her in closer.
“The answer is, there isn’t a wedding. Yet.” I’m speaking to my mom but looking down at Kate.
Kate’s eyes grow wide. “Yet?” She squeaks out the word.
“I waited a long time for you. I won’t wait even a quarter that long to make you my wife.”
Kate takes a big gulp of breath, her chest heaves. And her eyes shine.
“I love you,” she mouths.
The Day He Went Away Page 7