Page 10 of A Certain Step
And then came her birthday, two weeks after his grandpa’s passing. He had called her at midnight, his voice a little muted and husky. “I set an alarm for you,” he had admitted.“I wanted to be the first to say happy birthday.” She thanked him, laid back against her pillow, phone resting along her ear. “I wish I had eloquent words, Wills, but they’re escaping me right now. You’re my best friend, and the world is better with you in it. I hope this year is extra kind to you, and I hope you get everything you’ve always wished for,” he declared, the vulnerability in his voice staying with her during the loneliest nights. The sincerity, the warmth.
She thought she had imagined it when she woke up in the morning, checking her phone’s caller ID to confirm that it had indeed been true.
There was a moment that night when she questioned whether she could feel something more for him, but she buried the feelings as quickly as they materialized. This was merely a friendship—a lasting, life-altering, perfect friendship.
Plus, she had rules against dating actors and an even more rigid belief that best friends should never venture toward the uncharted territory of becoming lovers.
And the entire cast was close, too. How they’d quickly become like a family after the first few gatherings made the Boston tryouts that much more comforting. Coffee runs, ridiculous social media-led lives always conducted by their Bingley, Sam Butler, many nights playing “Werewolf,” and breaking into bonkers arguments as a result of the tension.
Willa faced Ethan in the driver’s seat. Things were shifting. She wasn’t quite sure why, but her reactions to him felt different.
He had a face carved exclusively for the spotlight. It was made even more beautiful because of all the ways she knew him. She knew ofEthan Everett long before she worked with him, but what she learned was that despite the roles he’d take on, despite what a heartthrob he was, he could be quiet, a little shy even. He had the biggest heart of any man she knew.
His presence suddenly overwhelmed her, like the sun making a quick appearance on a day that assured only rainfall. Kaleidoscopic hues waltzed through her mind, begging her to marvel at him—to stare for a little while longer.
Bloody hell.What was happening to her? Missing him had done something she wasn’t prepared for.
Willa appliedhyaluronic acid and topped it off with a generous amount of moisturizer to combat the dryness of her skin after the plane ride. She then detangled her hair with a wet brush and ambled over to Ethan, who was standing in her kitchen, mixing cocktails. They had picked up a pie from Leo’s Pizza on their way over, and she quickly scarfed down a slice before jumping into the shower. Ethan had taken the pepperoni off his and left them on a plate for her. She popped two of them into her mouth at once and gave him a gratified grin.
She eyed the drinks then. “What are we having?” she asked. He looked obscenely hot handling the silver shaker. If she hadn’t known he’d bartended back in the day while still making his way into the industry, she would’ve assumed he was a natural at it.
“Sour cherry negroni,” he replied.
“The telepathic part of my brain that signaled to yours I wanted something sour deserves an award.”
Ethan winked, a delicious smirk rising alongside it. “I got you.”
Willa took the rest of the pepperoni slices and beelined over to the TV stand; grabbing the remote, she plopped herself on the sofa. They should watch something. It’d help her shake whatever emotions were nagging at her.
Or, there was that puzzle she wanted to start—the one of Paris bathed in moonlight. Would Ethan want to make it with her?
She stole another glance at him. Something about Ethan looked different today, and it wasn’t the light scruff dusting his face after two days of no press or show duties. It wasn’t his tired posture or the natural waves of his hair falling forward after a long day. No, it was something else entirely—something she couldn’t quite figure out.
Nope, nope, nope.
They were friends.
Best friends.
That was it.
She not so subtly looked at her phone once she saw him walking toward her. The nerves bubbled into a volcanic explosion directly in the middle of her throat.
He placed the two glasses down and sat beside her, the weight of him making the sofa feel smaller and simultaneously cozier.
There was no way she could handle serious television right now, not with all her feelings muddied like this. “I know you’ve been waiting to watch new episodes, but my headspace is a bit...convoluted right now, and I don’t want to watch something heavy. Would you want to do a puzzle with me?”
Concern chased away the ease in his expression. “Sure. Is there anything you want to talk about?”
“Nope. It’s just the usual dose of anxiety doing its due diligence and making its presence known because what else would it do?”
“Okay,” he acknowledged tenderly, without judgment. “You know you can always talk to me, right?”
Willa reached forward to grab the glass in front of her. “Aren’t you tired of me always having something frustrating to say?”
His expression turned serious, wholly sincere, and promising. “Never.” The conviction in his voice was palpable, easy to believe.
“You’re my favorite,” she replied, the words slipping effortlessly off her tongue.
