Page 35 of Writing On The Wall

“What,huh?” I frown, flicking pieces of wallpaper off my shoulder.

“Nothing. It’s just interesting. Ethan has always seemed so laid back. But he seems different with you.”

“Yeah, apparently that’s ‘cause my very existence annoys him.”

“Did you just roll your eyes?”

“You’ll never know.” I continue scraping. “Hang on,” I tellEmber when I hear a car door shut. For the second time today, I peek through my blinds, this time finding Ethan’s truck backed into my driveway.

I guess the grump has decided to return after all.

“What’s happening?” Ember asks.

“Ethan was here this morning. Then he wasn’t. Now he’s back.”

“Don’t overwhelm me with the details,” she drawls sarcastically. “Um, Earth to Ivy,” she calls out a moment later when I stop replying.

“Sorry. There’s a lot unfolding.”

“You’reliterallytorturing me.”

“Hang on, let my eyeballs catch up.” I stare at the scenario playing out. “It’s actually kind of delightful. Ethan is doing the ‘I just walked into a spiderweb’ dance next to his truck.”

“Unexpected. Please continue.”

“Whoa—okay. Um…his shirt just came off…”

“A show. Nice. More details?”

“He’s shaking his shirt out. The shirt is being inspected like it’s covered in toxic chemicals.”

I’m hiding beside the window with one hand lifting a single blind, completely transfixed by Ethan’s golden skin.

“Come on, I need updates!” Ember shouts, making me wince and pull the phone away from my ear.

“He’s still looking for something, but the shirt has been given the all clear. Boots and ground are being investigated.”

Ethan does a full body shiver, seemingly giving up on his search. “Oh my gosh! Is Ethan scared ofspiders?” I squeal, and the grin on my face nearly touches my ears. “This is amazing,” I whisper.

“I’m concerned about your level of excitement over this,” Ember says in return. “Unless you’re plotting ways to get him out of his shirt again?”

I scoff, dropping the blind as Ethan ends his performance and stomps toward the garage, still topless except for the tool belt he’s got slung over his bare shoulder.

“It’s just something to keep in my pocket, a little ammunition.”

“You’re starting a war.”

“Ethan started this war the first day we met, and you know it.” I scowl.

“Fine. What did you call about again?” she asks over a yawn.

“Just checking in. I’m doing mindless work and need the company.”

“Go find the shirtless grump, and you’ll have some.”

I walk back to the kitchen and pick up the scraper, staring up at the faded wallpaper that’s been there for decades, the one Gran probably picked out. “I’m sure he’ll turn up sooner or later. He’s doing something in the garage.”

“That man never slows down.”

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