Page 62 of Petals and Fangs

“Well, well. If it isn't Ethan Rothschild himself,” Arial says.

“Ethan, this is Arial, my best friend. Arial, this is Ethan- good gracious. You know who this is.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rothschild,” Arial says, revealing a genuine smile.

Ethan on the other hand doesn't say anything. He just nods and fakes a smile.

“Well, I better be going, Lily. Call you tomorrow?” Arial says.

“Yes. “Yes, for sure,” I swallow and nod at her as she leaves.

“Ethan, what are you doing here?” I ask, confused, and frightened at the same time. I have never seen him looking like this. Ever.

“I had to see you. I left your laptop in my car,” he says and pushes the door open.

“Well, I-”

“Invite me in, Lily.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. Come on in,” I say, but before I finish my sentence, Ethan shuts the door behind him and locks it. He walks toward me and grabs my hands. I shrink away from him.

“Don't run away from me, Lily. I know your secret now,” he breathes in my ear.

“Ethan, what are you doing?”

“So, you are the little online dating blogger after all, aren’t you? And you had the nerve to deny it repeatedly?” he asks, raising his voice.

“Ethan, you are obviously drunk.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“What? What are you talking about?” I stutter, trying to pull away from him.

“Don't play dumb with me, Lily. Just say it. Say the words. It is not like I am going to tell anyone.”

“Have you been drinking?” I ask as I take a step away from him. I try to push him off, but he won't budge.

“Do I look drunk to you?” he finally let go of my arms.

“No. Of course not.”

“God, I am just thirsty. Just so thirsty.”

“Thirsty for blood, Ethan?” I boldly say, gesturing to the couple of blood bags on my table.

“It's you, aren’t it? You're the one who has broken into my office. Do you know how illegal that is, Lily?”

“And is it not illegal to keep blood packs inside your personal fridge? What are these for, Ethan?” I challenge him. He is avoiding eye contact with me. I know he is hiding something from me.

“It is nothing, Lily. Please.”

“It is something. It must be something.”

“Lily, it's- it's complicated.”

“Complicated? What could possibly be complicated about having blood bags in your fridge? Whose are they if they are not yours? Are you hurt?” I say, my voice slowly rising out of frustration.

“No, I'm not hurt. It's not like that.”

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