Page 63 of Big Balls
It makes a satisfying rustling noise and helps keep me distracted from the disaster that is going to be me making a short speech about the scholarship we’re funding. The one named after Ethan’s late wife.
I sigh. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, and the other guys all assured me it wasn’t going to be an issue, but I can’t help but reconsider now that it’s way too late.
Also, why is Ethan still so freaking handsome? If he could have the basic human decency to at least look a little bit heartsick at my supposed absence. A slightly grayish look to his face, or some extra wrinkles.
Minimally, I feel like he owes it to me to have grown a crappy mustache or goatee. Some sort of post-traumatic facial hair episode.
I came perilously close to cutting bangs, so I definitely understand the entire issue with post-breakup hair.
The gentle noise of the crowd outside masks the sound of anyone entering the room, but damn it, I can tell anyway.
I blow out a long breath. I could pretend that I don’t see him or know he’s here. There’s probably some sort of back door out of here. With any luck, it could set off the fire alarm and then I’d have a good excuse for running away.
But running away didn’t get me anything except a little sadder inside. Instead I open my eyes and turn to face Ethan, who is looming in the doorway and staring at me.
“Zoe,” he says, and it absolutely sucks how good it feels when he says my name in that low voice of his.
“I wanted to thank you for what you’ve done here. I’m so pleased that you brought attention to this issue through the WAGs, and I hope you know how amazing you are.” He comes closer to me as he’s talking, and despite the very bland, polite words he’s saying, the look he’s giving me is anything but bland or polite.
I swallow hard, biting down my nervous response. “I do know how amazing I am. But I’m willing to bet your date is also amazing, so possibly you should get back out to your table and quit looking at me like that, Mister Alexander.”
He’s right next to me now, excruciatingly beautiful and so tall it hurts me to stare up at him. He’s wearing a tux and a cologne that smells like distilled money.
“Zoe,” he says again, and this time I close my eyes and let the sensation wash over me for a moment. “Why don’t you come out and meet the person I’m here with?”
How about no? How about fuck no, even? I open my eyes and then stand up and poke him in the chest with the first finger of my trembling hand.
“I’m only going to say this once. I sincerely wish you well. I want you to find love and happiness. But I don’t really want to stand around and watch that happen, okay? Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to decline the offer to meet your date tonight. Thanks, though.”
The foundation director pops his head in and beams at us. “Time for that speech, Zoe. Ethan, did you want to come up on stage too?”
Ethan’s forehead furrows in confusion. “Not really, if it’s okay with you. I’m definitely here to support the cause, but I’ve done all the public eye stuff I can handle for the month already.”
My boss laughs and claps him on the shoulder. “Okay then. Zoe, it’s all you.”
“Yay,” I say in the most fake cheerful voice I’ve ever used. I have always detested public speaking. I feel like my voice sounds weird, and I get so nervous that I get out of breath and lose my train of thought. And then I always struggle with this fear of having a giant booger in my nose the entire time I’m talking.
“Hey,” Ethan says as I move toward the door. “Knock ‘em dead, okay?”
I nod and trudge toward the stage as if it were a public execution instead of a speech.
I wait a few minutes for the crowd to settle down, then take a deep breath and begin my talk. I show some slides about the organization and a few of the last events they’ve had. I pull up statistics and facts, and then turn to the main topic of the evening.
I’d like to catch Ethan’s eye and see how he’s going to handle this part, but if his best friends think it’s okay, it’s going to have to be okay.
“Respected guests, I am so pleased to be able to tell you about the newest initiative we’re able to fund based solely on tonight’s ticket sales. This scholarship will go to a rising senior with a documented medical history of autism, in order to support them as they meet the challenges of a college education.”
I press the button for the next slide. “The Lisa Alexander Memorial Scholarship Fund exists because of your support tonight. Therefore, in honor of the mother of one of the best kids I know, I ask you to dig deep and give generously. You are changing lives here tonight. Thank you.”
I manage to leave the stage despite having a few residual black spots in my eyes from trying to stare through the spotlight during my speech.
Someone takes my arm and helps me off the stage.
And because I’m cursed, the man touching me is the one and only Ethan Alexander.
21
Ethan
