Wind whipped inside the truck cab, coming in through the tilted rear windows where Oreo had his nose pressed to the night air, ears flopping wildly.
“Chris thinks the senator’s going to run,” Lia said.
Chris worked for a state senator who was considering a run for the House of Representatives. Ethan knew he had big plans for his representative’s career—and his own career, eventually. There would be travel, and eventually, an apartment in DC. Lia would be gone, and Ethan would have no reason to hang around anymore.
No reason to stay and nowhere else to go.
“Maybe you can look for a teaching position in Washington,” he managed to say in a normal voice.
She gave him a strange look. So maybe not that normal. “I’m going to stay in Austin,” she said, but he didn’t believe her. Couldn’t believe her. Chris would end up spending more time in DC, especially once he made the inroads he wanted to. Especially when he ran for office. And Lia would be there to support him, because that was the kind of wife she would be.
He was suddenly grateful he hadn’t eaten any kettle corn. He might have chucked it back up.
“Well,” he forced out. “Maybe you should keep your options open. You can take the full time job as an aide as a temporary thing until you and Chris figure out where you’re going to live.”
She looked annoyed now. “I already know where I’m going to live. The same place I’m living now.”
Why the hell couldn’t he leave this alone? But he couldn’t. It bothered him that she was acting like things would stay the same. “You’re going to be graduating in a few weeks, Lia.”
“Thanks for the newsflash, Ethan.”
“That means I can’t meet you and Chris on campus for lunch between classes.”
“So we’ll see each other after work,” she said. Stubbornly.
He closed his eyes briefly before focusing on the road again. Nothing but darkness, the trees a shadow wall pointing toward home. Lia’s home with Chris, the place Ethan didn’t belong. All three of them were friends, but things had already begun to change when Chris had graduated this past spring and gone to work for the representative full time.
“Everything will be different,” he said, unable to say more. Unable to say, You can’t be alone with me anymore.
Even tonight had been a mistake.
“We’re friends, Ethan. All three of us, best friends. It wasn’t school that made us friends. It’s the fact that I’ve known both of you forever, before you even deployed.”
That softened him, a little, to remember her as the skinny preteen she’d been. He’d had an unhealthy fascination with her even then, but she’d only had eyes for Chris. All the ladies had eyes for Chris, which Ethan had never minded.
Except with her.
He pulled into the parking lot of her apartment and jerked his truck to a stop. The vehicle shuddered at the suddenness, and kettle corn spilled onto her lap and rolled all over the floor of his car.
“Oh,” she exclaimed. “Crap.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, not feeling all that sorry.
“Ethan?”
He rummaged under the seat for some fast food napkins and tossed them at her. “Here,” he said without looking at her. “Don’t worry about the rest. I’ll put Oreo in the front seat and the popcorn will be gone before I get home.”
“Ethan.”
Finally he met her gaze. Her eyes had turned to moons, wide and reflective. He saw in them a thousand tiny lights on a string. He saw in them everything and nothing and a future he couldn’t be a part of. Technically he could see her tomorrow, for lunch. And the next day. But staring at her in the twilight, it felt like goodbye.
“You’ll get a real offer,” he said. “As a teacher, at a great school. And wherever you end up, they’ll be lucky to have you.”
He had hidden his feelings for so long, it felt strange to want them exposed. But in that moment, he did. He hoped she knew what he meant also, that Chris was lucky to have her.
Her eyes glistened—with what? With liquid night. With ink. With anything but tears, but then they slid down her cheeks and he couldn’t pretend any longer.
“Go,” he said roughly. Go to him. Go live your life. Go away where you can’t make me ache and want and hurt anymore.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice high and trembly. Like a plea.
“Just get the hell out.”
She turned from him and stumbled out of the truck. It wasn’t safe, her running out of the truck that way. He started to get out, started to follow. But the moon blanketed the empty parking lot, lighting gravel like stars, and her path was clear. He watched her take the few steps down into her apartment’s entryway.
But she just stood there.
Her hand reached up to knock. Her head lowered.
With a sinking feeling in his gut, Ethan realized her little zippered purse was on the floor of his truck, half covered in popcorn. It must have her keys. His throat felt tight. He grabbed the leather pouch and jogged across the parking lot.
He reached her just as the door opened. Chris stood there, wearing a rumpled shirt and slacks. His eyes were bloodshot but he started to smile. Then he saw Lia’s face. Ethan couldn’t see her—she wouldn’t look at him—but it must have been bad. Chris’s gaze met Ethan’s, questioning. What happened?
Ethan didn’t have an answer. He couldn’t very well say, I’m in love with your girlfriend. I have been for years.
“You forgot this,” he said instead, holding up the pouch. But Lia was already slipping past Chris into the apartment they shared.
Chris’s eyes lightened with something like recognition. He saw what was happening, felt the tension in the air and knew what it meant—maybe that was for the best. Now he’d know better than to ask the fox to guard the henhouse. But it wasn’t worry that filled Chris’s expression. Not even jealousy. Instead it was a sort of smugness, and it made Ethan wonder if Chris had seen his feelings all along.
“Did you have a good time?” his friend asked, too polite to be real. He had seen Lia’s face, and Ethan must look torn to shit—like he felt inside, but Chris was cool as the air around them.
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Ethan muttered. Losing Lia—not that he’d ever had her, was hard enough. Knowing his best friend found it funny did not help his mood.
Chris smirked, eyes flashing, and Ethan had a sudden glimpse of how he would look as a politician. Determined and mildly sleazy. Resentment was a hard knot in his gut. Why did this fucker get the girl? But then he remembered that this fucker had his back many times; they’d survived that way.
Then his anger evaporated and he was left only with disappointment.
“Take care of her,” he said as he turned to leave.
He had driven all the way home, and Oreo had eaten all the kettle corn, by the time he realized he still had Lia’s purse. Right when he’d decided he couldn’t keep meeting up with her throughout her day, tagging along which only made things worse. He needed to end this tonight.
So he dropped Oreo off in his empty apartment and started the drive back.
Chapter Three
Lia brushed her teeth to get rid of the salty sweetness of the kettle corn. She showered to get the smoky evening air from her skin and hair. But something remained, something earthy and sharp, a sense that she had experienced something important, that it lingered with her still.
Steam coated the bathroom mirror. She looked at her hazy reflection—her black hair curly from the moisture, eyes wide. She looked like her mother, who was Puerto Rican. Her father had never been identified, but it was clear from her dark skin that he’d been black. She had stood out in Paseo Boricua, the Chicago neighborhood where her mother lived. When her aunt moved to Austin to take an adjunct professor position at UT, Lia had begged to go with her.
Lia had enrolled in Austin High School for 9th grade. She’d been gawky and terrified upon realizing she stood out here more than ever. When a few sophomores had teased her—a
nd touched her—two seniors had stepped in to tell them off. Chris and Ethan. She’d been struck by hero worship then, and she couldn’t honestly say it had ever worn off.
Her skin was dark, like one of her cousins might have at the end of the summer, deeply tanned. But she looked that way even in winter, and she'd stood out. Not here in Austin. Not with Ethan and Chris. Ethan's skin was pale; when it got darker it got redder, perpetually flushing, even under the weight of the sun. While Chris was a dark brown, his palms and elbows beige in stark contrast. She never felt too light or too dark, with them. She was between them in every way, sandwiched in the middle whenever they went, protected.
Despite the difference in age and background, they had let her hang around them until they graduated. Then they’d both enlisted—and before they shipped off, Chris had asked her to be his girlfriend. What could she say? Yes. And thank God. And I’ll miss you both so much.
She and Chris had been together since, every leave and ever since he’d gotten back. Years. Forever. So why did it suddenly feel strange for him to see her naked? With the door half-shut, she dropped the towel and slipped on a nightgown. He was waiting in the same place, with an expectant look on his face.
Chris was waiting for her on the bed. “How were the lights?”
His voice was loaded, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he demanded answers. He’d definitely seen her tears when she’d come inside. “They were beautiful.”
“And how was Ethan?”
She shrugged. “Why don’t you ask him?”
“I’m asking you.”
There was an edge in his voice, like the smoke abrading her throat. Like the tears pricking her eyes. His voice scratched over her skin, and she wondered how she’d ever thought this was safe.
She delayed answering by stepping into the closet. Her clothes were hung up in neat rows on one side, his on the other. He was always neater than her—military straight. That was part of his draw. His perfection. But now she realized she’d never measure up.
“He seemed…upset,” she said. An understatement. Ethan was the laid back one. Stoic. Occasionally surly. What he’d done tonight, though—Just get the hell out—had been completely out of character. It had hurt, to be honest, especially after…
After it had seemed like he might kiss her. Even though she knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t. Even though she never would have let him.
“You two have always been good friends,” Chris said, a loaded statement.
“All three of us were friends,” she reminded him. “Are friends.”
He shrugged and said nothing.
Her eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
“You’re graduating soon. Everything will be different.”
Wow, he sounded just like Ethan. Annoying as hell. “I don’t understand how my graduating college has anything to do with being friends with Ethan.”
“Don’t you?”
Her temper boiled up, but she forced it down. “I’m still me. He’s still him,” she said evenly.
“You’ll be working full time. Plus there’ll be responsibilities. More fundraisers and events in the evenings as the campaign picks up. Then when we move to DC—”
“Whoa. What? Shouldn’t I be consulted on moving to a different city?”
“I told you he was running.”
“Yeah, I figured there’d be some traveling. But he’d only move there if he wins.”
“Nice. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
That stung. Was she being unsupportive? She hadn’t meant to be, but she’d honestly expected Chris to discuss something like that with her. Even if his boss won the seat, he would maintain an office in Austin, and she had figured Chris would work there. Wrong, apparently.
She made herself cool down. “I’m not saying no, I’m just saying I’d like to be consulted.”
“I’m sorry for assuming my wife would actually come with me,” Chris said, voice loaded with sarcasm. “I should have figured you’d pick living near your friend to living with your husband.”
Stunned, she stared at him. “That was your proposal?”
For a moment they simply stared at each other, harsh breathing filling the dark bedroom. Then he stood and approached her. She tensed, even though she knew he’d never hurt her. It still felt scary, not knowing what he was feeling. Not knowing what she was feeling.
Confusion. Hurt. Guilt. That last one threw her the most. She hadn’t even realized she’d done anything wrong, but she felt guilty as if she had. It made her feel like a car off the rails, bumping over rocky ground, heading into a downward slide.
“Look,” Chris said, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to propose like that. I had a thing planned for how I was going to ask. After your graduation.”
She looked down, unable to bear the strange light in his eyes. His words were calmer now, but his energy was more intense than ever, unsettling and sharp. A subtle challenge underscored his words, sending shivers down her spine.
“You can still do that,” she whispered, which was a cop-out. A delay tactic. They both knew it.
His eyes flashed in anger. “We don’t have to wait. You’ll get your dinner and your ring. But you can say yes to me now, can’t you?”
“To what?” She laughed unsteadily—no humor. “What’s the question, exactly?”
“Marry me,” he said, and it didn’t sound like a question. It was a command, and her unease rose another level. It was like looking at Chris through that clouded bathroom mirror. She recognized the shape of him, but he was distorted too. Familiar and yet not.
She loved both Chris and Ethan in their own ways. And she’d thought her love for Chris had morphed into something deeper. Or maybe she’d just been so desperate not to end up alone again. The outcast again. If so, it was wrong to use him that way.
It would be wrong to say yes.
“Can I think about it?” she asked quietly.
His eyes went cold. “Are you breaking up with me?”
Was she? She wasn’t sure. But it didn’t seem like a good idea to make big decisions right now. Maybe this would all seem like a bad dream in the morning.
“No, I’m not breaking up with you. It’s just late. I want to go to sleep. Besides,” she added, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m still holding out for a candlelight dinner.”
His expression remarked stark, like a sculpture. “Then let’s go to bed.”
She could tell by his tone that he didn’t mean to sleep. “I’m tired.”
He shook his head, slow. “Not too tired.”
Oh man, he was going to make her decide. Right here, right now, based on whether she had sex with him. It felt like answering every question. Are we still together? Are we getting married? Are you willing to do anything I want? He had never been pushy before, never needed to be pushy before. She preferred to be pliant; she preferred to be the peacekeeper, but what was happening now didn’t feel like peace.
It felt wrong, but throwing an entire relationship, a potential marriage away, based on weird feelings couldn’t be right. She just needed time to think, but he wasn’t giving her that. Maybe that was fair, considering the weird vibe between her and Ethan tonight. The attraction. She could call it what it was.
For whatever reason, it had happened. She’d wanted Ethan, and she thought he’d wanted her too. Chris had seen that, and he was understandably bothered. He wanted to stake his claim. She could let him.
To get them through to the morning, she could.
She reached down to the hem of her nightgown and lifted. Then she was naked, standing in the dim light coming through the blinds, just like she had been hundreds of times. His gaze and hands and mouth were on her, just like they had been hundreds of times. He was a little rougher, and she was a little more distracted, but they had done this too many times. They knew where each hand would go and exactly how much foreplay would happen before he came inside her.
Except it didn’t happen that way.
&
nbsp; Chris’s hand on her neck guided her to the bed, face-first. She bent on her hands and knees. They had done this position before, but not often. Staking his claim. Her gut twisted, rejecting that claim. Her mind shouted no. She didn’t say it out loud, though. Everything was too uncertain. Him. Her. Ethan.
She groaned as Chris entered her, sudden and deep. Her fists held onto the sheets while he rocked her hips back and forth with his body.
The sounds came way too late. Banging. Knocking the bed against the wall? But no, it was farther away, like from the front door. Then there was a voice. “You guys here? Dropping this off. Someone lock up after me.”
“Ethan,” she whispered, but Chris’s grip on her hips was too firm and it all happened too fast.
Then Ethan was standing there, staring. His eyes were wide. His hand held a clutch—her clutch.
She looked back, but Chris’s eyes were closed, brow furrowed. Her body had seized up, frozen, aching like a full body cramp. Her mind was cramped too, realizing she’d made a mistake. A long string of them, culminating in her exposed position on this bed. Even her heart was cramped, squeezed tight in a too-small space. Ethan wasn’t the Grinch, no matter how grumpy he could be. She was—her heart two sizes too small. But it had grown now, in this horrible moment, when two relationships were ruined. All because she couldn’t see what was in front of her until it was too late. Ethan was in front of her… and Chris was behind her.
She must have made a sound, because Chris slowed. Then stopped. His grip tightened on her hips, and she knew he’d seen Ethan.
Surely Chris would tell him to leave. That was the right thing, wasn’t it? If there were an etiquette book on friends and lovers, that’s what it should say. But in all the years they’d all three been friends, in the years she and Chris had been a couple, it had never come up.
Except it must have happened, once or twice. Ethan must have come upon them or stood outside the room, hearing the sounds they made. And she had never known because Ethan had always silently left.
Not this time.
“Hey, old friend,” Chris said, and he didn’t sound friendly.
She shivered at his tone, and he ran a hand along her thigh, as if trying to calm her.
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