Page 52 of Pick-Up
“I’m good,” I say.
Michael wasn’t kidding. It is extremely dark. Without the lantern, we’d be lost.
“Look, Sasha,” Ethan says. “I want—”
“No need,” I stop him, without looking back. “We’re good.” I wishhe would quit saying my name. Something about the way he does sends tingles through me—or, I assure myself, maybe it’s just the evening breeze.
“Okay. I’m glad you’re good,” he says. “But I’d really like to expl—”
“That’s all right! You do you!”
“What does that even m—?”
“I’m good. You’re good. We’re good!”
“Oh my God!” he exclaims, stopping on the path, hands on his head. “Will you just let me talk?”
I shoot him a dirty look, but I do stop and turn to face him.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “But you are a maddening human.”
“Is this part of your apology?”
“No?”
I rotate my hand, gesturing for him to get on with it. He steps closer to me. And, suddenly, I’m aware of my dress clinging to my body in the heat.
“I’m sorry that I put you up for a job without telling you. In retrospect, that was a weird thing to do.”
“Yes.” I nod. “It was weird.You’reweird.”
“Okay.” His eyes narrow. “Don’t get carried away.”
My plan had been to avoid talking to Ethan, but, as long as he’s in front of me, I go ahead and ask, “But why did you do it?”
He runs a hand through his hair, so his T-shirt rises just the slightest bit above his perfect cotton slacks, revealing the top of boxer briefs and a strip of tan skin that, horribly, I flash to running my fingers along. He’s close enough for me to touch. A warmth travels through me.
What am I thinking?
I restrain one hand with the other and will my stubborn eyes up back to his face. Luckily, he’s too consumed with his own neurosis to notice. Luckily, it’s pitch dark and I’m holding the lantern, so he can’t see my beet-red face.
I squeeze my thighs together, fusing them shut.Get a grip.
“I think I felt bad about the hoodie thing and the after-school drama,” he’s saying.
“What drama? There was no drama.” I am not at all defensive. And my underwear is not damp.
“No. Like, after-school dramaclass.”
“Oh. I see.”
“And I wanted to give you something—be helpful—since I had inadvertently taken something away. But I figured if I asked you about the job, you’d say no. You would have said no, right?”
“I would have said no.”
He sweeps his hand to the side likeThere you go.
Irritation rises in me. “But, Ethan, you don’t get it! If I wanted to say no, that was my prerogative. I should have had that option: the chance to make a decision for myself with all the relevant information available to me.”
