Page 38 of A Certain Step
“Think you can somehow go back to the dawn of time and magically make it so periods don’t exist?”
He chuckled. “That one might be out of my hands. But I’m serious; if there’s something I can do, I’ll do it.”
Her smile was so soft that his heart galloped in his chest. “You’re an angel. Anyway, what do you want because I know you’re not going to want tea?”
He made a face that he was sure was unattractive. “Water then,” he replied.
“Mate, drink for the both of us, please.”
He shook his head. “I’m good with water.”
She poured him a glass, and he took it from her.
Ethan ambled over to the couch and sat down, then Willa handed him the bowl before plopping herself cross-legged beside him.
“Look, I’m not ready forPeaky Blindersto end, but after this, we’re doing something light. RewatchingSchitt’s Creek,or I don’t know,Brooklyn Nine-Nine.No dramas for at least a month,” she commented.
God, she was adorable.
“Except when we have news ofThe Bear’sreturn,” he rebutted.
“I appreciate that you’re finally acknowledging it’s not a comedy.”
He chuckled. “You made valid arguments.”
She winced slightly, and if he hadn’t been so in-tuned to her every move, he might not have noticed. He hated that she was in pain. No wonder she’d been quieter today. He had discerned it when he first came over, but he didn’t think anything of it, assuming it might’ve been from yesterday, which he shouldn’t continue prying on. They were initially supposed to meet at his place, but she’d called, said Sahar was going out, and asked if he’d come over instead.
He chanced another glance at her. He supposed it was a good sign that she seemed invested in the first few minutes. However, she grew silent when the episode opened and apart from the initial reactions, her responses were minimal, unlike Willa, at all. There were no audible gasps or comments here and there.
After a few short minutes, her head fell against the cushion, angled to his shoulder. He leaned closer, letting her head rest there for as long as she needed. He debated pausing the show, but that would require reaching toward the other side of her and potentially waking her up.
If she fell asleep, then she must’ve needed it.
He looked toward her, pretty pink lips slightly open, her soft breathing, creating a melody he could drown in. Musicians wrote songs about moments like this; poets etched such memories into the sacred parts of their beings. They held them there forever, immortalizing the emotions through words.
Ethan had no words, but he felt like he could rupture.
A few minutes passed—fifteen, maybe, judging by the scene changes on the TV screen—and her head moved, her eyes popping open with a sudden jolt.
“Crap, did I fall asleep?”
He smiled down at her. “You did, yeah. I didn’t want to wake you, figured you needed it.”
She placed her hand in front of her mouth, covering a yawn. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
She didn’t say anything; she merely gazed at him, her eyes searching his for something he wasn’t sure he could give but wanted to.
Fuck it all.He wanted to hold her. He would’ve stayed there all night if she hadn’t woken up. Okay, no, he would’ve gently nudged her to at least go to her bed so she’d be more comfortable, but still.
He wanted to pull her to his chest.
“I don’t know.” She settled herself back against the cushion, eyes reverting to the TV. She rewound to where she last remembered, looking up at him one last time before pressing play.
Minutes later, Willa laughed heartily at a scene, repositioning herself at the same time and curling her legs behind her.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
