Page 31 of Writing On The Wall

I’m wincing inwardly, because this gift is both thoughtful and incredibly intuitive. My own parents still haven’trecognized what he’s apparently figured out in a handful of encounters.

“Thank you.” The words come out scratchy. “I didn’t know something like this existed.”

He palms the back of his neck, eyes soft as he peers at me. “You’re welcome. I didn’t want to overstep. But I hope it’s helpful.”

This moment feels significant, like maybe we could start over with less animosity towards each other. “Ethan, I?—”

I jump back at the knock on my door.

“Open up, lover! It’s time to get smoochy!”

My eyes pinch closed.

Crud.

I forgot that Toby is picking me up for a movie to stage more fake-dating photos. This is going to be even more awkward than the time I asked my Uber driver about his favorite outdoor activities and he said ‘hunting,’ but I misheard it as ‘humping.’

I force my eyes open and find myself faced with a stormy look in Ethan’s. What’s got his undies in a twist this time?“That’s?—”

“Toby,” he grunts out and steps back.

My lips roll in, and I take a fortifying breath before pulling the door open.

“Hey, Bee. Ethan’s here.” I bug my eyes at Toby, trying to communicate that our ruse begins now.

“Oh. Hey, man.” Toby offers his hand, and Ethan pauses, pushing his bottom lip over his teeth before he finally shakes Toby’s hand.

Part of me wants to fake being sick so I can run and hide under my blanket, but I’ve created this mess. I’ve got to see it through.

Toby sidles closer and drapes an arm around me, then heawkwardly repositions himself like I have a skin disease he’s concerned about contracting.

Toby had thrown his arm around me before when he met Ethan in my classroom. But this moment feels different. We’re both acutely aware of the need to act like this is something we do all the time.

And now we’re staring at Ethan with forced smiles, the silence almost painful as we attempt to wordlessly convey the proof of our counterfeit romance.

Ethan’s eyes narrow the tiniest bit, landing on the points of contact between Toby and me.

“Well, we’d better be on our way. Ethan, I’m sorry to leave like this...Actually, scratch that, since this is my house and I didn’t know you’d be here…but thank you for all this.” I gesture awkwardly toward the ceiling as I slowly step back toward the front door. Then I begin swaying my arms and clapping my hands, as if it’ll help me look cooler. Just a totally normal interaction between adult acquaintances, right?

“Toby, shall we?” My eyes shift to the door with another quick finger point. Yes, I’m a coward.

Ethan’s expression somehow grows even broodier, and a slight growl resonates in his throat before he reaches into his back pocket.

“Here’s your new key, Marsh. I’ve gotta take some things to my truck.” He glowers as he picks up his toolbox. “I’ll use the spare to lock up.”

“Right. Kay…bye.” I wave robotically. This afternoon has gone downhill in no time. I haven’t even gotten the chance to pee when I got home. With the empty state of the house, there’s no way I’m going to risk having those noises echo down the hallway with Ethan around.

Toby grabs my hand, and I instinctively start to pull away but stop myself just in time. He widens his eyes, silently urgingme to get it together. I mouth a “sorry” as I weave my fingers through his.

He plays his boyfriend duties well, opening the car door so I can slide in. I dare a look back in Ethan’s direction once I’m buckled and find him standing beside his truck while he tugs his shirt over his head.

My jaw drops as I lean closer, my head inching towards the window until my forehead finally bumps the glass, snapping me back to reality.

“You’re drooling, Vee,” Toby warns me with a grin as he starts the car. He shakes his head and adds, “That guy’s playing dirty. Good luck, sister.”

I snap my mouth shut, scowling at all the tanned skin and muscular lines Ethan’s parading around for all my neighbors to see. No one asked for this display of incredibly defined arms and the visible outline of abs over his otherwise flat stomach—certainly not me.

It still takes entirely too much effort to pull my gaze away.

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