Page 3 of Wicked Surrender

I could remind him that he’ll be too busy in med school to keep up anything with me. That should do the trick.I hoped it would, because the thought of not having to pretend I was invested in our relationship would be a burden off my shoulders.

Just as I anticipated, no one asked me a single question throughout the whole meal. Dad didn’t bring up the symposium that I’d be expected to attend and present at in a couple of months, just like Mai had, just like he had, like my mom had, and just like Grandma and Grandpa had. Mom didn’t ask me if I was managing exam week well and getting enough sleep. Mai didn’t bring up my birthday that had come last week, when she just couldn’t find the time to make it home for dinner and wish me a happy birthday.

Two hours, I’d sat there, dutifully quiet and sinking further and deeper into the identity of second-best.

At least I can go read or something now.As I got up at the end of the dinner, I counted down how long it would take to see Ethan to the door and tell him goodnight. Escaping to my room was the highlight of these nights, and it couldn’t come fast enough.

He stalled, still talking to my dad about something with his studies, but I stayed in the background near the front door and tuned him out.

Come on.

Get it over with.

It’s not like you won’t see him again to suck up to him again.

I want some time to myself. Is that such a crime?

Just walk to the door. Come on. Please. A little further. Go home and let me be…

Still, he dragged on and on. Then Mark asked him a question, and I had to literally bottle in a scream.

I couldn’t just leave. He was supposed to be therewithme, as my boyfriend at a family dinner. None of them would understand how unconnected I was with him, how little I cared that he was here. Ethan’s presence in our home wasn’t a sign of how committed we were with each other.

Just go already.

Finally, he smiled at me and approached the door.

While I didn’t wrench it open, I wasn’t idle about turning the doorknob and pushing him outside. “It sure is getting late, huh?” I said as I saw him out the door.

“Not really. It’s only, like, seven.” He smiled at me on the porch. “The daylight hours are getting longer.”

“Right.” Of course, they were. I knew that. I just didn’t know what else to say as small talk that could naturally segue into my telling him goodnight. If I could find more courage, I’d shove him off the porch, wave him a goodbye without looking back, and head upstairs to enjoy some peace and quiet to myself after a long week of exams and lectures.

But I didn’t.

“Well, thanks for the dinner,” he said, just like he did every time.

Could this be any more scripted?

“Yep. No problem,” I replied, even though it wasn’t like I’d made it or invited him.

“I guess this is goodnight,” he said.

Finally.My nerves were shot after sitting through that meal. And my patience to put on a fake smile was fading really fast. I needed to sit and breathe, to just be and not worry about meeting anyone’s expectations.

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

He leaned in slowly, as if he wasn’t sure he’d land his lips on my mouth. It seemed cruel to judge his attempts at romance when I wasn’t any more experienced. When it came to Ethan making a move on me, in any way, I couldn’t agree with the concept that it was the thought that counted.

Seriously, how can he be this boring? This dull?

This…

I closed my eyes as he chastely kissed me goodbye.

This blah.

I leaned away from him before his Brussels-sprout breath could entice me to gag. If he “kissed” me again without moving his lips, I swear, I’d start thinking he was a freaking fish puckering up.

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