Page 41 of This I Know
Ethan’s dark eyes stare back at me.
He somehow looks more intimidating than his looming shadow. Up close, he’s tall and muscular, and today his dark hair is slightly overgrown and splaying every which way, and as I stand in front of him, that smell of sandalwood wafts over me. His eyes are intense and dark and bright all at the same time. I feel naked beneath them. His face is just as handsome as I thought it would be, and right now it’s covered in a layer of stubble.
“Thanks,” I manage. At the same time, I want to cower away and hide myself from anything and everything, including him.
Especiallyhim.
His eyes don’t stop their boring. He’s still looking at me. Why is he still looking at me?
And why hasn’t he said anything?
God, he’s weird.
As I return to reality and my adrenaline subsides, I realize my knee is burning. I bend to examine it and I grimace. It’s somehow been skinned against the slick floor. I’ve calmed down enough to realize that I’m embarrassed, but other than my pride and my skinned knee, I didn’t really hurt myself.
“I don’t know how I’m going to get over that one,” I mumble out loud.
Most of the people who found my humiliation funny are gone, having realized they’re wasting their precious lunchtime, but the lingering embarrassment is still coursing through my veins. I look around for the comfort of a familiar face – Brendan.
He’s gone. Jerk. I know he saw me fall.
“I’ve told myself the same thing.”
I turn back to him at the sound of his voice.
Why is he still here? It’s the lunchtime rush and even my friend has left me for the wolves. But he’s still here. Why?
I’m kind of glad. Now that we’ve actually spoken, I like him; his voice and face is comforting, and it soothes something restless deep inside of me. This is the first time I’ve heard his voice and the first time I’ve seen him this close, so the first time my eyes have been opened to him, really. It’s the first time I’ve interacted with him in such a way as to get a genuine feel for him. And now that I’ve done it, I only want to get closer. Looking at him and feeling this way, my skin starts to crawl with the ache for him to touch me again. I touch the goose bumps on my arm, half in embarrassment and half in an attempt to hope they go away before he has a chance to see.
At least he doesn’t seem like an ass.
Whether or not he’s the player that I’ve thought he is is indeterminate at this point. But he does look strangely familiar, as comforting faces often do, and I realize I’m examining him a little too closely.
I look away, my shy eyes darting.
“Avery!” Mara calls.
I see her. She’s running toward me from the far end of the hall, her bulging purse bouncing off her shoulder.
“My God.” She stops, out of breath. “What happened? Are you okay? I saw you fall from the other end of the hall.”
And it took you this long to get here?I must be in shock. That whole slow-motion-time thingy. “I’m fine.”
“You klutz.” She clutches my arm, ready to drag me away into a predictable cocoon of Mara-Overprotection, before she notices Ethan, who’s still standing nearby.
They regard each other in an almost passing off of me from one protective presence to another.
Okay then.
“Well,” I say to Ethan, trying to break through the awkwardness, “thanks.”
He says nothing. He just walks away.
How strange.
The way he walks is anything but strange, though; it’s perfect, and I watch as the muscles of his shoulders and back moving through the tight points of his shirt. I know what I told myself at the end of last period, that this guy is no good for me andschoolwork and healingand all that, but as Mara lightly yanks on my arm, I can’t help but feel an overwhelming longing for him to come back to me.
That’s it. I’ve had enough of this dancing around the Ethan thing.
