Page 29 of Unless It's You
12
ETHAN
Friday, 12 July
I’ve gotten nothing under control since Stella walked away from me at the zoo yesterday.
I feel terrible for snapping at her, and I’m walking under gray skies through Regent’s Park to try to distract myself. The park is quieter during the day without sports. A woman pushing a stroller passes by with a giant coffee. A pair of university-age students jog along the paved path, chatting and seemingly carefree. I wish I could feel the same, but the idea of Stella cheating on her late great-aunt’s bucket list still horrifies me. I remind myself thatI’mnot the one cheating, but it doesn’t seem to help.
I let out a long, slow breath. Stella feels bad about it. That much was obvious. There was the hesitation when she told me her misguided plans, and the flinch when I noted how much her great-aunt must have loved her to write that list.
I felt sick all last night, even after settling on the couch and letting Colin’s litter of tiny foster kittens crawl all over me, playfully biting my fingers and leaving tiny scratches on my arms. I wanted to text her. Tell her about losing Mum. What a mess I am.
I should do it.
Crossing the short pedestrian bridge over the pond, I hardly notice the rainbow of flowers and scattered ducks, the dreamy peace of this place. Before I realize it, I’m out of the park and on Baker Street, right in front of Pepper Me Marketing.
I have to talk to her.
Me
Do you have a few minutes? I’m down at street level
My heart pounds in my chest. What am I doing? Telling her about Mum? Becausethatfeels a lot like letting this woman close to me. Too close.
But this is important. I want her to understand why I acted how I did at the zoo. Why I believe she shouldn’t cheat on this bucket list. And she’s grieving. I understand that—at least in my own way—too well. So I’m going to tell her.
She doesn’t make me wait long.
Stella
Coming
Three minutes later, Stella pushes out of the glass doors from the lobby of her building.
Fuck, but she’s cute today—blond hair tucked behind her ears, dark-blue eyes wide and vulnerable, staring at me questioningly, temporarily without shields up. A tight black tank top with a V-neck dips in between her breasts, and a long sweater is slightly askew on her shoulders, showing just a sliver of skin. She rubs the colorful butterfly tattoo on her wrist.
I wonder what it’d be like to pull her into my arms and hug her. Not an accidental touch like yesterday when she tripped by the coffee machine. Not even a drunken kiss at a bar. Wrap my arms around her and protect her from the world.
But Stella Hart doesn’t want protecting.
“Ethan? What’s up?”
I’m frozen in place. I love my name on her lips. She’s waiting for me to say something, but the way she’s biting her lip disables my ability to voice cohesive thoughts.
“Hart.” My voice is raspy, like I haven’t used it in hours. And it’s true. I’ve been stuck in my head, all alone. “I wanted to explain my behavior yesterday. At the zoo.” I swallow, and surely, she can see my throat ripple.
“I get it. You think I suck. But, funny thing, I already think I suck, so I beat you to it.” The words tumble out of her, and the muscles of my abdomen seize.
She has no idea how I feel about her. How I felt back then, how I feel now. The feeling that I’m having a really hard time fighting anymore. A big red bus stops at the curb three feet from us and commuters file off. Cars whiz by. Groups of people chatter to each other and on their mobiles.
But it all fades away.
“Truce or no truce, you’ve never liked me.” Stella bites her bottom lip and her face crumples. “Why should it bother me now?” The last words come out as a whisper.
I flinch. How can she honestly think that I don’t like her? How I acted toward her was pure self-protection—am I that good of an actor? I couldn’t be friends with her. No way. It was all I could to do to avoid her, since she was dating my best friend.
I never hated her. Not for one second.
