Page 29 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
It lasts a second. Maybe two.
Then I remember where we are, what this is, how easily a moment like this could tip into something more. I pull back,careful not to make it abrupt, careful not to break whatever delicate thread is stretching between us.
Because if I lean into this—into him—it won’t be just a moment. It’ll be a shift. And I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
But something’s changed. The air feels different now. Electric. Alive.
He clears his throat softly. “You know, you don’t always have to be the fixer. Sometimes it’s okay to let people fix things for you.”
I smirk. “You’re awfully generous with advice tonight.”
He shrugs. “Maybe I want to be one of those people.”
I meet his eyes, a flicker of something raw passing between us. “Maybe I’m tired of fixing everything on my own.”
He smiles—a slow, genuine curve of his lips that makes my chest tighten. “Good, because I’m not going anywhere.”
Neither of us says anything else, but the silence between us hums with promise. The city lights blink below like stars caught in the earth, and somehow, everything feels like it might be okay.
***
Later, I find myself drifting toward the jukebox inside the bar, the hum of conversations and clinking glasses fading into the background. Ethan is already there, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.
When he sees me approach, he raises an eyebrow.
“Pick a song,” he says, almost teasing.
I pause, glancing at him. “Why?” I ask, arching a brow in return.
“Because you need to stop thinking for five minutes. Music helps.” He shrugs.
I roll my eyes but there’s no real fight left in me. He’s right—I’ve been running through the chaos in my head all day, and maybe a song could be a brief escape. I flip through the options, my finger pausing when I find one that hits right in the center of my chest.
I press play.
The opening notes fill the space, warm and rich, wrapping around us like a soft blanket. Ethan’s mouth quirks into a small, surprised smile.
“That’s a good one,” he says quietly.
I glance over at him, feeling the faint brush of our arms as we stand side by side. Neither of us moves away. His arm brushesmine again, and even that light contact sends a ripple down my spine. He’s solid heat beside me—quiet, intense, impossible to ignore.
The room seems to slow down around us, the noisy chatter retreating to a distant hum. I catch something in Ethan’s eyes—something sharp and vulnerable. It hits me harder than it should.
I swallow hard, heart pounding louder than the music, and look away before I do something reckless—before I say something I can’t take back.
“Thanks,” I say softly, voice almost lost in the melody.
He meets my eyes again, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us.
“You don’t have to say more than that,” he replies, his tone gentle but firm.
But he’s still watching me. Like he’s waiting for something I’m not ready to give—and won’t ask for out loud.
I nod, grateful for the silence that lets the music speak instead.
***
The night’s cooled by the time Jake finds me near the fire pit. It’s tucked away in the far corner of the rooftop, a flickering littleoasis of warmth against the crisp air. The flames dance softly, creating shadows that ripple across the stone floor. I’m curled up in the corner of the cushioned bench, nursing the last of my bourbon, when he drops down beside me with that grin.
