Page 135 of Maybe You

“Oh,” I say slowly. I definitely did not expect that invite. I’m also not sure if I’ll even manage to be halfway decent company right now.

Ethan looks at me expectantly.

I don’t really want to go home, back to uselessly staring at my phone and hoping, so somehow, I find myself saying, “Sure.”

Ethan and I used to be friends. Dating him didn’t work out, but maybe we could rekindle the friendship?

I could use some friends, if I’m being honest with myself. I basically have none.

His smile widens.

“Cool. Let’s do this.”

“—he walks straight through the glass, so the thing shatters around him, shards raining down everywhere, and the dude just looks up, takes out one of his earbuds, and says, ‘This wasn’t here the last time I was here.’ And then he just walks off.”

I laugh and wipe my fingers with the napkin before I ball it up and drop it on the empty plate.

This is the Ethan I remember from when we first met. He always had an endless supply of stories at his disposal. Things he’d witnessed. Observations. Things he’d heard or read or discussed with somebody. There are never any awkward silences with him, and he manages to easily draw anybody, no matter how socially awkward, into a conversation.

“Nobody stopped him to check if he was okay?” I ask. “Or, I don’t know, cover the damages?”

“I think we were all just too shocked at first, and by the time we snapped out of it, he was already long gone.”

The dinner rush has long come and gone, but Ethan and I are still sitting at the table where we landed two hours ago, in some little burger bar Ethan swore by. Two hours of easy chatting, no important topics. I can almost forget there’s life outside. A life that is complicated and messy. A life that hurts.

So I sit back and listen to Ethan, until eventually, I pick up my phone and look at the time.

“Time to go?” Ethan asks.

I nod. “Work awaits.”

He shakes his head as we get up. “I don’t know how you have the energy to do that. One job is exhausting enough.”

“Practice?” I offer. “You get used to it. And I like keeping busy.”

He eyes me thoughtfully.

“Well, thanks. It’s been—” I start to say when he interrupts me.

“I’ll walk you.”

I drag my hand through my hair and chuckle. “I’m just headed to the subway, so there’s not much walking involved.”

“I’ve got nowhere to be,” he says, and he sends me an expectant look, like he’s really excited about the prospect.

“I mean. Sure. If you want to.”

So we walk to the subway and then take a train back to Brooklyn. I stop by home and change while Ethan makes quick friends with Jordan, so when I come back downstairs, I find them chatting and laughing.

I grab my backpack, throw my stuff in, and we head out. Ethan’s still sticking around, and I honestly cannot even begin to guess why. But I appreciate it. He’s a good distraction, and I really do think we could be friends again.

Once we reach the pool, we stop at the front door, and I pull out the keys and lean my shoulder against it. Ethan mimics my pose.

“Thanks,” I say.

“For?” he asks, eyes shining with mirth.

I lift my shoulder in reply. “Dinner. The company. It’s been nice.”

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