Never Have I Ever

by Clearwing, August

  I almost stammered, “Of course; it would be awkward and wrong if you weren’t there too. He really decided to accept?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “And you’re okay with my offering without talking to you about it?”

  “Yes, if it means that much to you.”

  “It does. Between trying to buy me off and giving me the cold shoulder I think it’s time to show him I’m not the awful person he thinks I am.”

  “I don’t expect a miracle, but Ethan still needs to learn not every woman in the world is a conniving bitch. Maybe this will help.”

  There was that.

  I agreed, “All right, how about Wednesday at seven?”

  “Didn’t you tell him next week?”

  I also expected to be working this week. “My schedule just freed up.”

  “Perfect, Wednesday at seven. I’ll bring wine.”

  “Semi-casual,” I managed to sneak in before he could say goodbye. My home wouldn’t be turned into anything but a cozy, comfortable place. “That goes for the both of you… Sir.”

  He laughed in concession, “You’re going to be the death of me, sweetness. I’ll let Ethan know.”

  The old adage about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer might have proven useful to me after all. If I could get into Ethan’s head then maybe I could convince him once and for all of my lack of being a threat; that I was genuine and even nice when people were nice to me. I was, of course, referring to people. I wasn’t yet persuaded Ethan was anything but a robot with people tendencies.

  Still, I had a whole two days to figure out what I would say to him, and what I would fix for dinner. I sort of already had an idea for the latter. I loved creature comforts. One of the greatest of those was comfort food.

  Artichoke dip with bread toasted to just the right amount of crisp around the outside would start us off as an appetizer. For the main course, rich, creamy Beef Stroganoff and a side of cinnamon broccoli would do nicely. Not with ground beef, either—it meant my head on a plate courtesy of my father if I sullied our family recipe with mediocre ground beef—but with medium rare strips of sirloin steak positioned artfully atop the pasta dish.

  After spending the entirety of Monday and Tuesday cleaning my house from top to bottom—twice, because really, what the hell else did I have to occupy me?—I dug out the old family recipe book and got to work on the meal early Wednesday evening.

  How strange that I was working so hard to impress the one person who couldn’t be bothered with me to begin with. By the time the night ended I decided I’d either be able to label myself a saint or a masochist for enduring Ethan’s company for so long. Possibly both. And I still didn’t hold one iota of a clue regarding what I should say to him.

  I docked my iPod on its external speakers and set my playlist to shuffle. While it rolled through Rise Against, Nightwish, Mutemath, and The Piano Guys, I got started on dinner. The pasta portion of the meal simmered away, cozy in the cream sauce in its pan. I’d just popped the dip in the oven and started cutting up the thick strips of freshly cooked beef when there was a knock at the door.

  After rinsing my hands, I snagged a clean towel from the counter and went for the door. On the other side, Noah greeted me with a smile and three bottles of wine: red, white, and a light in-between of a pinkish hue. He was holding the red and the pinkish bottles together in one hand by the necks.

  “You’re punctual. Early, even,” I told him. I took the bottle of white from him to lighten his load.

  “I thought I might help out,” he said as I let him in.

  “There’s not a whole lot to help with, but I can try to find something to occupy you.”

  I was relieved to see he complied with my request to keep the dinner casual for the most part. He wore dark boot cut blue jeans with a bit of fade artfully added to the front of them, a burgundy long-sleeve button down, and Doc Marten boots. I recognized them as Docs only because they happened to be my very favorite brand of shoe. I spotted the comfort of Docs on any given street from three blocks away.

  “In that case I’ll settle for keeping you company.” Noah leaned in to kiss me, but stopped short. “Hang on; am I hearing Michael Meets Mozart?”

  I glanced at my iPod like I could read the screen from ten feet away. Luckily, it was not so much for reference as is was to give me the second to recognize the song again.

  “Uh, yes, Sir?”

  “Do you know how sexy it is that you have The Piano Guys on your play list?”

  I laughed. “I do now.”

  “I listened to them when they first emerged on YouTube. They’ve become pretty popular there since then.”

  “Careful,” I cautioned, “Your hipster is showing.”

  Noah chuckled and kissed me as he shut the front door with his foot. “And what is that delightful smell?”

  “Artichoke dip and my version of Stroganoff.” We set the wine on the kitchen counter. I examined the bottles for a moment before asking, “Three bottles for three people?”

  “I don’t expect all three to be empty by the end of the night. Ethan is a light drinker; if he finishes even one glass I’ll be surprised. We should use this one.” He pushed the red wine to the side, then collected the other two bottles and found a disused corner of my kitchen to keep them out of the way.

  I personally never understood the importance of wine pairings, so I was glad he did. At one point someone even told me the entire wine and food pairing industry was a complete sham made up just to sell more of it. I for one could never tell the difference between the impact a full-bodied red and a flowery white made on my Smoked Salmon or Chicken Kiev. Maybe I was just buying bad wine.

  “I’m glad you took the initiative with Ethan, by the way,” Noah said as I returned to cutting the beef. His tone settled somewhere between proud and surprised. “Not many women have the courage to do that.”

  “Don’t know if it’s courage or insanity yet; the jury’s still out.”

  And the jury would be out until after the evening was over and Ethan left either hating me completely or beginning to warm to the idea that I wasn’t going to step on his toes just because I loved his brother.

  I was only vaguely aware that Noah was searching the drawers in my kitchen for a wine opener while my thoughts spiraled back into confessing everything to him right there and then. Something stopped me, though; time-constraints, perhaps. Less than fifteen minutes to talk about something as important as my feelings and, if I was lucky, his feelings as well, might not nearly be enough time. Then again, how much time does it really take to say “I love you”? It couldn’t be much more complicated than that.

  I came out of my thoughts when a wine glass appeared in front of me. There was about a shot’s worth of red wine in it.

  “Try this and tell me what you think.”

  I stopped cutting long enough to let him put the glass to my lips so I could take a sip without getting beef all over it. The wine was light and dry and a little bitter, but maybe that was why he chose it; to offset the rich, creamy dish. I wasn’t going to pretend to know. Either way, I didn’t hate it.

  “Pretty good,” I said.

  As he finished off what remained in the glass, another knock came at the door. Butterflies returned to the pit of my stomach. The instinct to run away from the possible tension of the evening had to be stomped down.

  “I’ll get it,” Noah offered. He kissed me on my temple and added, “Just relax, I can tell you’re uneasy.”

  I nodded and let him go answer the door.

  As forced as it was, I tried to put on a welcoming smile for Ethan when he walked into my home. As he came into view of the kitchen I saw that he, too, had honored my request for a casual dinner. Well, as casual as maybe Ethan could manage. Khaki slacks and a light blue polo suited him. I just thanked the Powers That Be for not persuading him to wear a tie.

  “Hello, hello,” I said in greeting, “Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes. Did you find
the place all right?”

  Ethan nodded once. “No problem finding it at all. My apologies in advance, however, I won’t be able to stay very long after dinner.”

  Noah all but glared at his brother. “Why’s that?”

  “My hope is to make sure the nerds in San Diego don’t destroy your software when they train their employees on it tomorrow. I will be grateful to wash my hands of that company’s demands once the week is over.”

  “That’s an awful lot of trouble to go through for a contract,” I said. “They must be getting their money’s worth if you’re providing personal tutorials rather than sending in one of your people.”

  “For larger contracts we pride ourselves on a personalized touch. It’s what sets us apart from the competition.”

  Ethan may not have been a social butterfly, but he was a hell of an innovator, I’d give him that. For once there wasn’t an ounce of arrogance in his voice, just the simple stating of facts and common discussion. I relaxed a little more as I put the finishing touches on dinner and listened intently to the conversation between Ethan and Noah. They bounced back and forth from work to other mundane topics, though I did notice they mostly stuck to casual conversation about business.

  I set the table and invited them to have a seat. While we began to eat, I chimed in with what I hoped would shed some light on their relationship, and maybe on Ethan’s personality so I could gauge how to approach him in the future.

  “Since you both work so closely together I assume you decided to start your business pretty early on in your college days?”

  “No,” Noah said. “Well, yes. And no. Ethan came to me with the idea for software development because I was the geek. I may have majored in business and finance, but I minored in computer science. I didn’t want in on it to begin with. I didn’t think I could handle the crushing weight of failure that most businesses run into, especially in an economy like the one we had at the time. Once he got the ball rolling, and I was a little more confident in myself, I jumped on board.”

  Ethan added, “I don’t remember a time when I didn’t want to own my own business. Most would describe my obsession with success at my venture as obstinate.”

  “Not just your obsession; you,” Noah jabbed as he took a drink of wine.

  I shrugged. “That’s not exactly how I would describe you.”

  “Oh,” Ethan chuckled. I was astonished he could manage such a feat. Though, even that was condescending. “And how, pray tell, would you describe me?”

  “Persnickety,” I said, without missing a beat. I locked eyes with him and pointedly plucked a small bit of sirloin from the end of my fork.

  Noah almost choked on his wine with laughter. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand and let the amusement roll through him before he was capable of swallowing down the alcohol. For Ethan’s part, I think he was still trying to work out whether to be offended or pleased because he couldn’t quite decide whether to smile or frown at me.

  “That is a new one,” Ethan said at length.

  Noah finally finished swallowing and all but coughed out, “At least she’s honest.”

  “She is that,” Ethan agreed dryly.

  “This is amazing Piper,” Noah said as he pointed to his plate with his fork.

  “Glad you like it,” I said. “My dad taught it to me before I left for Caltech. It’s always been my favorite comfort food from back home; reminds me of autumn in upstate New York every time I smell it.”

  “You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath and shook my head. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

  “Now that’s just cruel.”

  “Secret family recipes have rules,” I said with a playful shrug.

  “In that case, I insist you make it more often.”

  I smiled, more than pleased with the compliment. “Anytime.”

  “You’re from New York?” Ethan asked.

  I wondered just how much research he managed to compile on me if he was asking that question. Of course, he could’ve already known and was just playing the fool to throw me off.

  “Schenectady, specifically. Now, try saying that five times fast.”

  He thought about it. I thought I even saw his mouth twitch. “No, I’d rather not.”

  “What about you guys; Cali born and raised?”

  “All our lives,” replied Ethan.

  The biggest difference between Noah and Ethan was their way of speaking. If Ethan could get away with avoiding an in-depth description of anything, he would sum it up in as few words as possible. Noah, on the other hand, let his thoughts flow in a more personable fashion. The juxtaposition of that particular part of brotherhood remained a mystery to me.

  I frowned at him. “You don’t give much away, do you?”

  “It’s better that way.”

  “Is it because you don’t trust me?”

  “I don’t trust anyone, Miss Minogue. It’s nothing personal.”

  “That can’t be true. You have to trust a lot of people to do what you do.”

  “No,” Noah said. He eyed his brother. “He really doesn’t. The only thing we can trust these days is the ink on a contract, isn’t it?”

  Ethan returned the strange, knowing gaze Noah gave to him in kind. It was a sort of acknowledgement and agreement, though he said nothing.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, a little pained for him. “That’s a terrible way to go through life.”

  I began to wonder why I even bothered, and if there was anything I could do to change his mind about me. There had to be more to Ethan than this one-dimensional, no-nonsense façade Hell-bent on keeping the world at arm’s length. After all, in a twisted way, he did care for his brother. He made my life a bit of a nightmare in the process, but at least he was still trying to look out for Noah’s best interests.

  He was trying to look out for Noah’s best interests, right?

  The odd, desperately hopeful melancholy that washed over the table during the second half of our meal made me doubt everything I thought I knew up until that point. We ate in companionable, if slightly awkward, silence until we each had our fill.

  I cleared the table and, while Ethan and Noah chatted, portioned out what little leftovers there were into containers to store for my lunch the next day. The dishes could be left for later seeing as I had company to entertain.

  “Dinner was excellent,” Ethan said as I joined them at the table again. “You’re quite the cook.”

  “Thank you. I’m rather proud of my culinary skills.”

  “Noah, could you give us a moment?”

  Almost on cue, Noah slipped his phone from his pocket and got up from the table. “I need to wrap up some business for the day anyhow. Come get me when you’re finished.”

  He gave a reassuring squeeze to my shoulder as he passed me on the way to the back porch. Once the door closed, I waited quietly for Ethan to speak his piece.

  “They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” he finally said.

  “Did it work?” I asked with a twitch of a smile.

  Ethan shook his head subtly. “I’m not as simple as that. Have you thought on what we discussed at the café?”

  “Your threat you mean?”

  “If you’d like to put it so blatantly, yes.”

  “Why did you come here tonight; to unwind and be with good company or to prove you’re set in your ways?”

  “To appeal to your better judgment.”

  I folded my arms across the table in front of me. “According to Noah, you both have sources to spy on each other. It doesn’t take a genius to realize you spy on me too. I’m surprised you don’t already know my response.”

  “This isn’t a joke. I will rescind funding.”

  I tried to remain as cold and stoic as he was, though it proved to be difficult simply because my heart was not as dead as his. “Ethan, I quit the observatory. I don’t care what you do with the money.”


  “I see,” Ethan conceded. “Well played, Miss Minogue.”

  “How are we even back to this after I opened my home to you anyway?”

  “Dinner and polite conversation don’t equate to camaraderie.”

  “So what does? Because, at this point, I’m out of ideas. It seems there’s no placating you.”

  “There is,” he replied darkly. He leaned forward in his chair a little, lowering his voice as if to impart a delicious secret. “I am curious, though, what is it about him? Is the sex really that spectacular?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Is the way he fucks you just too much to give up?”

  “Our sex life is none of your concern.”

  But Ethan didn’t relent, “Does he take you hard and fast with no regard for what you want?” I tried to protest, but he pushed through my words, “Does he fuck you like a lover or like a slut? Because I’ll tell you now, a slut is all you are to him.”

  Both, is what I wanted to say. Perhaps what I should have said, too. And that I was devoted to every instant of it. But that was for us. Just for us. And the likes of Ethan were unworthy of knowing that particular flavor of my heaven.

  “You’re going to want to stop now,” I insisted.

  “Then tell me what makes you so keen on staying with him despite my warnings.”

  I exhaled deeply as I ran a hand through my hair. There was nothing else I could say besides the truth; “I care about him, Ethan, an awful lot. I hoped you might see that and give me a chance.”

  “Your feelings for him don’t matter.”

  “Ethan… Sex without love is nothing more than a complex form of masturbation.”

  He laughed. A cynical and narrow sound I wanted to drown out.

  “Are you really so disgusted with me?”

  “No. I’m sure you’re a fine woman on your own. What I demand has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him.” Ethan stood from the table. He smoothed out his shirt and added, “I don’t suppose you would consider leaving all of this if I simply asked you to.”

  “Give me a reason,” I snapped. “One which isn’t wrapped up in shady, inscrutable language and insults. A direct reason in plain English.”