Page 43 of Broken Rivalry

Eva whistles low and slow, an echo of sympathy in the sound.

I wave her pity away, not wanting it to dampen the fire kindling within me. “It was all an illusion, really. My father, the CFO of Hawthorne Enterprises, got entangled in a financial scandal that I suspect—” I halt, shaking my head. I don’t want them to know that I suspect Ethan’s father to be equally guilty but with the wealth and cunning to pin everything on my dad. “We lost it all, ended up in a trailer park, and my father… he took his own life in his cell six months after being sentenced.” A fact that still twists a knife in my gut. I know he was drowning in shame, but I can’t reconcile that with him being ready to abandon us. A part of me suspects Ethan’s father played a role in that too. I drain my glass, the liquid courage soothing my raw nerves, and pour another. “I finished my senior year at public school, and with my grades taking a hit, scholarships were off the table. That’s why I worked full-time last year, and then this opportunity came along.” I shrug, trying to shake off the heaviness of my past.

Nessa leans back, her eyes reflecting sympathy and newfound understanding. “Fuck… We’re quite the band of Oliver Twist, aren’t we?”

Eva and I share a giggle, the tension lightening a bit, and I find a small comfort in the humor Nessa always manages to find, even in the heaviest of moments.

Despite the pain, I experience a sense of relief having shared my truth, and I see it mirrored in them too. They’re more at ease, though the alcohol is likely lending a hand in that as well.

“You know what we need now?” Eva asks after a while—her words slurring a little. “Greasy takeout!”

“I second that!” Nessa agrees. “Let’s order in,” she adds, grabbing her phone from the table.

I glance over at them, seeing Eva’s head slumped against the sofa, her eyes barely staying open.

I toy with the phone in my hand, my mind a whirlwind of emotions after the revelations we’ve all shared. My fingers hover over the keys, contemplating whether to reach out to Ethan or to allow the night to absorb my unspoken words and feelings. I didn’t want to, but damn it, I like you. A lot. This wasn’t the plan. Ugh. I hit send before I can second-guess myself.

No reply comes, and a pang of regret twinges in my soul. But then, the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of our Chinese food. I stagger slightly as I stand, making my way to the door, but when I open it, it’s not the delivery person standing there. It’s Ethan, bags of food in hand and a concerned expression on his face.

“Why are you here?”

He steps inside, placing the food on the counter, his eyes scanning the room, landing on the bottles and our two roommates—Eva is now lightly snoring, and Nessa smirks knowingly.

Nessa winks, grabbing a bag of food and retreating with her headphones in place. “We both know I won’t hear anything. Have a great night, Poppy… and Small Prick.” Her words leave me blushing, my gaze snapping back to Ethan.

“Why are you here?” I repeat, my heart racing.

“Are you drunk?” His voice is low. Intense. And it sends shivers down my spine.

“Not enough to not mean what I say or regret what I do,” I reply, my voice steadier than I expected.

He sighs, his hands cradling my face. “I like you too, Poppy.”

“You came all this way to say that?” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he murmurs, “because if I texted back, I wouldn’t have been able to do this.”

His lips meet mine, and it’s like everything else just vanishes. It’s us, our secrets, and the undeniable connection that pulls us together. We lose ourselves in each other, not going all the way but going far enough that the barriers between us crumble, leaving only raw emotion and unspoken promises in their wake.

His lips are a gentle yet insistent pressure, and my world narrows down to this moment, to the feel of him, the taste of him. My hands, once trembling, now find a sure place on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath them. Ethan pulls back, his eyes searching mine, a question lingering in their depths.

I answer by closing the distance between us again, my actions speaking louder than words ever could. My hands slide up, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss. His response is immediate, a low groan vibrating through him as his arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him.

We break apart, breathless, foreheads resting together, and for a moment, we simply breathe each other in. His hands, warm and steady, slide down to rest on my hips, thumbs caressing the exposed skin there.

“Poppy?” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion and desire.

“I want this, Ethan,” I say, trying to sound sure of myself. “I know what I’m doing, okay?”

His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto mine, and there’s a silent exchange, a promise of what’s to come. I take his hand, leading him toward the bedroom, our fingers entwining naturally. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of us, our shared secrets, and the new path we’re forging together.

As the bedroom door clicks shut behind us, Ethan draws me into his chest, his heartbeat a steady, reassuring rhythm against my own erratic pulse. A flutter of nervousness dances in my stomach, heightened by the firm pressure of his arousal against me.

“I want to kiss you everywhere,” he murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper as he showers my face with gentle kisses. “And taste every inch of you.”

My fingers find the hem of his shirt, pulling it upward to reveal a chest that is both toned and invitingly warm beneath my lips. I press kisses to his skin, each one a silent promise, as I breathe him in. His cologne is a heady mix of bold and subtle notes, a scent that is undeniably irresistibly Ethan. Smoldering cedarwood and spicy black pepper intertwine with a velvety undertone of vanilla, creating an intoxicating blend that is as bold as it is elegantly understated.

I’m totally swept up, losing myself in his scent and how he feels. Each kiss and touch, it’s like we’re saying everything without speaking, revealing how much we want each other.

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