Page 15 of I'm Not in Love (I Promise)

“Really? That would be amazing.”

“I’ll check flights and let you know dates. We both seriously need a night out. I miss my Blakey.” I feel myself start to tearup when she says her nickname for me. “Go get ready for your party. Kick that board’s ass… in a good way. They’re going to love you.”

I laugh and dab at my eyes. “I hope so. If I don’t get into St. Luke’s, the next option is over an hour away.”

“You got this. I’ll try and text you tomorrow.” I hear her doorbell ring in the background.

“Who’s that?” I ask in a playful tone. “Tonight's hookup?”

She laughs but evades my question. “Gottagobye.”

Definitely a hookup.

Ethan picksme up in an Uber and I know within the first minute that he’s not sober. He’s stumbling over his words and being extra handsy, pawing at me with slowed movements.

“Someone fucked up my car last night. Smashed my windshield and keyed the doors. I’ll find the motherfucker. My parents are going to kill me if they think I did it.” His eyes dart around wildly, watching out the window like the culprit will jump out at us.

“I’m sure they’ll understand.” I know better than to ask questions or engage further. It won’t get me anywhere when he’s like this.

“I’m fucking shaky.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a pill bottle.

“Ethan…” I start but decide better of it. If he wants to take something, then so be it. I honestly don’t care anymore. All the more reason for me to end things with him after the gala. I watch him pop two pills into his mouth and dry swallow them. He seems to calm almost immediately. Gotta love the placebo effect.

“I need you to make us look good tonight, Bee. Everything is riding on this.” He wraps his clammy hand in mine.

“I know.”

“Good.” For the first time since I got into the car, he meets my eyes. “You’re wearing a lot of makeup. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I’m not. What are you trying to say?” He trails his eyes down the rest of my body and I cringe.

“The red lipstick and that dress. Your tits are hanging out. You realize these are respectable people, Bee. My parent’s colleagues. This gala is $500 a plate. You think they want to hire someone who looks like a whore?”

He may as well have slapped me across the face. I don’t respond. It wouldn’t accomplish anything, not with him like this. He’s mumbling under his breath and texting God knows who, so I pull my jacket closed and turn my head to focus on the passing cars out the window.

We pull up to a building in the historic district of town. A looming Victorian turned banquet hall. As soon as the Uber stops, I fumble for the handle, anxious for air. When Ethan tries to take my hand, I step away, walking as quickly as my heels allow on the unsteady cobblestone path. If he thinks I’m going to act all lovey dovey after what he said, he’s sorely mistaken.

I admire the ornate staircase and grand windows as we walk across the entryway. This area is filled with historic homes, but none quite as impressive as this one. If this were another time with another date, I could imagine having a great night here. Romantic even. But I look at Ethan, whose pills must be starting to kick in by the slump of his shoulders, and sigh.

For the next hour we’re introduced to at least twenty different people. Doctors, administrators, volunteers. Ethan’s mother gushes about her son every chance she gets.

Did they know he’s studying to be a surgeon? Lie.

Or that he’s at the top of his class? Also not true.

Not once has she mentioned me, other than introducing me as her son’s date. And as for Ethan, he’s barely coherent enough to make conversation, let alone jump in on my behalf. My cheeks sting and hands shake by the time dinner is served.

A dinner of fish atop a plate of pasta. I try to flag the server down to ask for an allergy menu, but in the bustle of demands from other, more important-looking people, I’m ignored.

“Excuse me,” I say to Ethan and the six others at our table. I grab my purse and head toward the restroom.

The halls are narrow and dim and I have no idea where I’m going. I’m too frazzled to stop and find someone to ask for directions in the maze that is this huge building.

Tears prick at the corner of my eyes and I finally stop to lean against a wall, reveling in the quiet. If I leave now, Ethan wouldn’t even notice. But that would give him exactly what he wants and I refuse to give up this easily.

The sound of nearby footsteps startles me but as I turn my head toward the noise, no one is there. I’m left with that prickly feeling again. Like spiders crawling on my exposed skin. Goosebumps pop up along my arms and all at once an overwhelming need to be anywhere else takes root.

I rub my arms and come face to face with Ethan as I turn the corner. His eyes are glassy and he’s stumbling his steps.

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