Page 29 of Broken Rivalry

“So, you’re going around with no means of communication?”

I try to take the phone from his hand, but he tightens his grip.

“This is not your problem! You’re not my boyfriend, Ethan,” I retort sharply, and as this attempt to retrieve my phone is met with success, he relents.

Phone back in my pocket, I’m ready to leave, but he’s not done yet.

“Is that why you haven’t posted on Instagram in two years? Because of the phone?”

I pause, my thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. Is that the reason? My hand instinctively goes to my pocket, where the phone is safely tucked away. Even if I had a smartphone all this time, what would I post? Smiling selfies while our world crumbled around us? I haven’t looked at it in all this time, afraid of the memories it might stir up. The last post was a happy family photo, my father’s arm around me, both of us oblivious to the impending doom.

My eyes flicker to Ethan, his gaze steady, waiting. A part of me, a tiny, hidden part, wants to spill everything, to share the burden of the past two years with someone, anyone. But I’ve built walls, high and sturdy, to keep the world, to keep Ethan at bay.

I can almost see my father’s smile. Feel his arm around me. And it’s a physical pain. He was my father, despite everything, and now he’s gone, buried in an unmarked grave, but his presence lingers, a ghost in my every step.

Pushing the memories away, I lock them back where they belong. “It’s not important,” I manage to say, though the words are barely a whisper. My eyes, I realize, are glistening with unshed tears, offering Ethan a glimpse into the storm within me.

I hate the gentleness in his face right now. The way his eyes are roaming my face with a scrutiny that is almost scientific.

“Poppy.”

“The varsity ball is in two weeks. I’ll be in touch soon for the dresses.”

I turn to leave, but before I do, I look back at him. “Thank you again for the present for my little brother. It made his day.”

His gaze warms. “You’re more than welcome. There’s not much I—” He sighs, his smile turning almost wistful. “You’re welcome,” he repeats.

We linger in a quiet, somehow reassuring silence, the world beyond us momentarily forgotten. His eyes, a tender mix of warmth and melancholy, hold mine, and I get lost, even if it’s only a brief, stolen moment in time.

A muted realization sweeps over me, subtly yet unmistakably shifting my emotional equilibrium. I like Ethan Hawthorne. Admitting that to myself might just be the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done.

But for now, in this pause, I simply nod, murmuring a quiet, “See you later,” before I turn away. I leave a sea of unspoken words and potential what-ifs suspended in the space between us.

Chapter 11

Ethan

The morning light filters through the blinds, warming the room with its glow. I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting my shirt. Frustration fills me, and I try to shake it off. I wanted it to be only Poppy and me today, a chance to break down the walls she’s so expertly built. But I had to settle for a group outing, and the opportunity feels diluted, but it’s better than nothing.

I want to spoil her, to show her she’s worth the effort. But Poppy’s pride, her staunch independence, it’s a fortress I’m still figuring out how to breach.

I sigh, loosening another button on my shirt. Blue is her favorite color. It also happens to complement my muscles in a way I know she’ll enjoy. It’s a small vanity, but one I allow myself.

I’ve just made my way to the kitchen when footsteps echo behind me, and I turn to see Cole, his hair a tousled mess, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Look at you, all dressed up,” he drawls, scratching at his bare chest, eyes raking over my outfit with exaggerated awe.

I roll my eyes. “Your grumpy ass is up before ten. Color me shocked.”

He chuckles. “Going on a date?”

“Taking the girls to buy dresses for varsity ball,” I respond, trying to keep the irritation from seeping into my voice.

He raises an eyebrow. “Girls?” He emphasizes the s, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Yeah, these girls only move in groups, it seems. Told Poppy I’d buy dresses for the other two as well.”

Cole disappears into his room, emerging with his black Amex, extending it toward me with a flourish. “For Evangeline’s dress, my good sir.”

---