I tune them out. I don’t care what they say. Ethan has been amazing, and I’m going to enjoy it for as long as I can.
When he gets back to the table, he gives me a lingering kiss.
Everyone falls silent. Jack gets up and studies the back of Ethan’s neck.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Jack says, and stands on his toes. “Just looking for the alien tentacle attached to your brain.”
Ethan scowls and pushes him away. “Fuck off, Avery.”
When everyone hoots and breaks into applause, Ethan looks at me with a confused expression.
I shake my head and pull him down next to me.
A few minutes later, Jack launches into one of his epic jokes. When I turn to look at Ethan, he’s smiling, but there’s something in his eyes. A weary sadness. Like being this version of himself is exhausting, but he refuses to give it up.
Part of me wants to ignore the wrongness and just believe him, but then I’d be pretending as much as he is.
No matter how much I want to deny the truth, it gets more obvious every day that he’s a drowning man clinging to a sinking raft.
Whenever I try to talk to Ethan about what’s going on with him, he either changes the subject, ignores me, or uses his sex appeal as a weapon to distract me from everything but my escalating need for sex.
That’s what he’s doing now.
He’s between my legs, rocking and pressing his pelvis in a way he knows makes me crazy. I’m so desperate to have him inside me, I’ve resorted to begging.
“Ethan, please.”
He kisses me again, then pulls me on top of him. His hands are on my ass, his lips on my neck.
“Not tonight.”
“Why not?”
His mouth and tongue silence me. Wet, and warm, and so, so good.
I tug on his hair, and he makes that noise. My noise. The one that makes his chest vibrate.
“Ethan…” Oh, don’t stop. Yes, right there. Ohhhhhh, God. He pulls down the cup of my bra and uses his mouth. Oh, sweet majestic Zeus. “Okay. Fine. I’ll talk you into having sex later. For now, keep doing that.”
“I have a better idea,” he says as he unbuttons my jeans. “Let me put my mouth on another part of you.”
My jeans are halfway down my legs before I register what he’s said.
“Um … what now?”
He tugs my jeans off and throws them on the floor, then kneels between my legs and strokes my thighs. “Do you remember what third base is?”
“Uh … it’s … well.” I absolutely remember, and thinking about him going there makes me glow like a stoplight. “Are you sure you want to do that? I mean—”
He leans over and kisses me, deep and passionate. It leaves me so breathless, I can’t talk. I think that was his plan.
He looks at my panties. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”
His eyes are dark. When he fingers the top of my panties, I suck in a ragged breath.
“Nervous?” he asks. I nod. “Don’t be. You’ll enjoy it.”
He slowly removes my panties, then brings his mouth down … down … oh, mercy, all the way down. He keeps eye contact as he kisses my inner thigh. I can’t stop the noises I’m making, no matter how embarrassing they are. When he kisses the other thigh, open-mouthed, I start to hyperventilate.
His eyes drift closed when he covers me with his mouth, and his accompanying moan vibrates all the way into my bones.
I have no idea what he’s doing with his tongue, but it feels incredible. When I squirm in response, he grabs my hips and sucks harder. I’ve never felt anything like it. Then he adds his fingers, and I nearly pass out from the pleasure.
That night, Ethan teaches me about the explosive ecstasy of oral sex. Several times.
We don’t end up talking about our issues. Or why he refuses to sleep with me.
Tomorrow, I tell myself as he leaves me in bed and lets himself out. We’ll talk tomorrow.
Ruby turns bright red. “He still hasn’t fucked you since he took your virginity?!”
“Shhh!”
Half the people in the cafeteria line have turned to look at us.
“Just rehearsing some lines,” Ruby says. “Turn the fuck around, creepers.”
We pay for our lunches and head out to the tables. “He does stuff to me all the time, but he always steers us away from … you know…”
“Penile penetration.”
“Exactly.”
“Jesus, Cass, what did you do the first time that made him so gun shy?”
“Nothing! He told me I was the best he’s ever had.”
“Then why the hell isn’t he hitting that every chance he gets? What’s he waiting for? A presidential invite?”
I sigh and pick at my salad. “I don’t know. He just seems to panic whenever we get close to…”
“He’s such a dumbass.”
“Ruby, come on. He’s trying.”
“To be a dumbass?”
“Stop.”
I look over and see him crossing the quad. His hands are in his pockets, and his head is down. He looks nothing like the person I’ve come to know in the past few weeks.
He seems utterly defeated.
Weary.
Miserable.
A shiver runs up my spine.
He doesn’t know I’m watching, and I realize what I’m looking at is the real him. My perfect boyfriend is nowhere in sight.