Page 22 of Born to Make You Smile

I laughed, then reminded her, “We bumped into each other.”

“I know.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “Like he’d ever deliberately hurt you. But seriously, I would ask. Remind him how much of an asset you are to his practice. You work so hard. You deserve it.”

“We’ll see,” I said, knowing full well I would not be asking Gavin for any more favors.

EIGHT

“Just inhale. You cando it,” Ethan encouraged with a nod.

I held the joint between my fingers, the pungent aroma of the marijuana smoke invading my nose. I’d never smoked weed before. I wasn’t sure why. It just seemed like the kind of drug that made people lose control—of themselves and their bodies.

My eyes went to Dorina, then Ethan, and they smiled at me.

It was a warm night in September, and Will was hosting a party at his parents’ place. They lived in a huge house north of the city with a pool and walk-out basement. Will sure knew a lot of people. I could count the number of friends I had on one hand. Dorina, Ethan, and I took a cab together, splitting the costs. Ethan offered to pay my share, and I accepted.

We danced and had a few drinks. By the end of the night, a bunch of us were hanging out by the firepit, passing a joint around.

With straightened shoulders, I put my lips to the paper and took a long, deep breath.

The burning sensation made me cough. Not to mention, it tasted terrible, bitter, and hot. But by the third hit, my mouth was so numb I didn’t even feel or taste it. Or maybe the weed was kicking in, and I didn’t care.

After finishing the joint, Ethan and I went back inside.

He grabbed my hand. “Come. I want to show you something.”

He stumbled on the steps as he led me up the stairs, gripping the railing for support. He seemed more drunk and high than I thought. He continued to guide me down the hall until we arrived in a small bedroom with a double bed. He closed the door behind us, and I tensed.

“Ethan…” I said, my voice hesitant as I looked around the room.

He came up to me and grabbed my waist. “You look amazing tonight. So fucking hot.”

Pulling me close, he began to kiss me. Hungrily. His aggressiveness tightened my stomach.

I immediately pulled back. “Can we…slow down?”

“Relax,” he urged, pushing me up against the edge of the bed.

“N-no.” My voice faltered. “Not yet.”

I still couldn't understand why I wasn't ready to take our physical relationship beyond the making-out phase. I thought being with Ethan would have been different from my other experiences with men, but the same feeling of hesitation returned. I existed in this frustrating limbo where my brain and body weren’t reacting the way they should to an extremely handsome and charming man. I could feel myself wanting to get closer to Ethan, but I still wasn't sure what was stopping me. It was as if I was stuck in the off position. He had his hand close to the switch but hadn't turned it on yet.

“Come on.” Ethan ran his hands down my waist, then my hips. “I know you want this. You’re practically begging for it in that top. Let me touch you. I want to see how wet that pussy is for me.”

My mouth went dry, and I pressed on his chest, urging him away. “Please stop.”

I looked down at my low-cut pink top and pulled it up to hide my cleavage.

“Are you kidding me?” he spat, stepping back. “What the fuck, Grace? You owe me something at this point.”

A sour taste entered my mouth. “What do you meanI owe you something?”

“Do you know how expensive all those dinner dates were? At this point, I should get to fucking touch you at least.”

Blood drained from my face as all my greatest fears came true.

I turned, heading to the door.

“Where are you going?” he called out.

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