I want him.
I need him.
As he drops the towel, my eyes remain on him, his muscular body. I don’t miss the way he leans forward, lifts a leg, and then the other as he puts on the sweats. I never thought that watching him do something so mundane would be so fucking sexy and hot. There are so many things I wish I could say or do, but I stop myself. I grab my phone, my keys, and head to the roof.
One of the things I love the most about this apartment is the roof. It has a garden and lots of pots around the area that I can take care of when I’m anxious. I built a gazebo that’s next to the firepit I installed a couple of weeks ago. This place feels a lot like home, but there’s always something missing. Tonight though, it feels like it has everything.
Is it that having Ethan here makes the place homey?
It concerns me that I can’t shake Ethan from my essence. It’s as if he engraved himself into my soul. And how am I supposed to move on while I carry all these feelings and he slowly unravels his truths?
For now, I stay under the blanket of stars far away from his tempting body while keeping guard of my treacherous heart who wants to say, fuck it all, I love him.
I call my sponsor in hopes that he might have a few more answers than I currently do.
“Yeah?”
“You said to call at any time,” I say, clearing my throat.
“I did,” he confirms. “Do I need to drive to your place? I thought Hannah said you were going to hang out tonight with them.”
Just when I thought this wouldn’t be weird, he mentions Hannah.
“Are you sure it’s okay to have you as my sponsor?” I ask Kade, holding my breath and praying that he won’t dump my ass because I need him.
“If you’re comfortable with me, I am comfortable doing it,” he reiterates. “What’s bugging you? Did you invite Ethan, and you weren’t ready?”
I laugh because he’s not right, but he’s not wrong either. When I told him about my almost relapse, my issues with my sponsor, and my new challenges, he offered to be my sponsor. I can talk to him about everything.
“It’s worse,” I answer, taking a deep breath and filling my lungs with renewed energy. This conversation is going to take a toll on me. It’s probably the situation.
“What can be worse than inviting him to hang out with you at home?”
He listens intently to everything I tell him. Once I say, “Was it wrong to invite him to stay?”
I pull out a lollipop from the jar I have on the patio table and turn on the twinkling lights that hang throughout the gazebo.
“I don’t think you need your sponsor,” he says in a careful voice that sounds fatherly.
“How so?”
“You need a friend’s ear and a father’s opinion,” he replies. “Lucky for you, I’m both. In my opinion, you did what you thought was right. He needs a friend, a place to crash, and someone to look after him. You gave him all of that. Do you regret it?”
I tap the table with my thumb a few times, digging into my emotions and pushing away the lust. That brings up the answer immediately. “No. I am afraid that I’ll make a mistake as I did two weeks ago—or worse, that I’ll believe that he’ll catch me if I fall. I can’t let my guard down.”
“You mentioned that when you met this chick in the library, you were in a weird mood,” he says. “Can you recognize the emotion?”
“Loneliness,” I answer immediately. “I had a great weekend with my friends, and then I had to come back home—by myself. While we were in Switzerland, I watched Alex and his siblings cozy up with their partners. Sometimes it was just Ethan and me hanging out because everyone else was away.”
“Hanging out like a couple?”
“No,” I answer, and maybe that’s the problem.
Even when I knew we were there just like acquaintances, I was expecting more. We made sure to stay several feet away from each other. My heart, my soul, and my body wanted what everyone else was experiencing. We stuck to safe subjects while we talked. The sadness of the situation struck a few jabs in the center of my chest. It’s always painful to be right beside him, pretending that there wasn’t something between us.
We’ve done this, going on vacations with the rest, but not with Alex’s entire family. Everyone was kissing, holding hands, and even Tucker found a chick to fuck during the weekend. It hurts to know that there’s nothing left between the two of us other than resentment and pain.
“Maybe you’re missing human contact?”
That question rings a lot of bells. I do, which is why I was ready to sleep with anyone. Also, I came home missing him. Even when the time we spent together was blah, I was with him. My brain and heart are wired differently. In order to be attracted to someone, I have to have an emotional attachment. Hence, I had to be drunk to have sex with others. So many things make sense.
Why didn’t I realize this during my therapies?
I needed to see him and to feel this way to know why I’m so fucking confused.
“You went silent there, kid. How do you feel right now?”
“Nostalgic,” I answer. “He’s in my bed. I regret offering it to him, not because I don’t want to help him, but because I want to be with him. The way it used to be. I could’ve let him go home, but he looked so…lonely. It’s just the way I feel. I don’t want to make a mess of things.”
“Listen, you did a good thing tonight. You supported your friend,” he explains. “If you don’t feel comfortable staying in the same apartment as him, leave a note and drive to our house. You have a room with us.”
“That’ll be weird.”
“No, it’ll be honest,” he corrects me. “You’ll leave a note saying that you have to look after yourself. It’s hard, but it’s best for you both that you sleep at your parents’ place.”
I think about his suggestion for a moment and then say, “I’ll be okay, but if anything happens, I’ll drive to your house. Thank you for listening.”
“I’m proud of you, kid.”
Chapter Nineteen
Ethan
Hearts not only beat. They spin like the needle of a compass, always pointing north—or to the one we love. In my heart’s case, instead of pointing to the N, it points to the Z.
How do I know it?
I haven’t had a good night's sleep in years. It’s not as if we spent the night holding each other as we used to do when we were teenagers. It’s just resting my head on his pillow—being surrounded by his scent of fresh soap, peppermint, and wood. I stretch, fighting to open my eyes and come back to reality.
The magic of midnight never lasts. It’s gone the moment I leave the bed. It’s been like that since we began, and though I know it’s over, I want to rejoice in it, at least for one last heartbeat.
One last breath.
Pushing away the covers, I finally make myself open my eyes and set my feet on the floor.
“Morning, sunshine,” I hear Zeke’s voice before I see him.
He sits on one of the kitchen stools. His focus is on his computer.
“How long was I out?”