Chapter Six: Torn Between Two
Ava
The moment I got home, Sophie's words replayed in my head like an annoying echo. What if it's all a setup? she'd said. And maybe she was right. But then again… it didn't sound right. Ethan hadn't said or done anything suspicious, nothing that gave him away. Still, why was I defending him in my own head? Normally, I'm sharp with guys, always on guard, never letting them use me. But with him… I don't even think I care if he does. And that's dangerous.
"I need a bath," I muttered, tossing my bag to the floor. The hot water was a relief, but as soon as I stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in my towel, my phone beeped. Tell me why my heart leapt at the thought that it might be from Ethan. And why did I even care? I was supposed to avoid him, not think about him. If I kept my distance, maybe all these feelings would die down. I couldn't fall for him. I shouldn't. Sophie likes him, and she's already warned me to stay away.
It wouldn't be the first time this happened. Somehow, the boys she wanted always seemed to drift my way instead, and the guilt ate at me. Every time. "You shouldn't always sacrifice what you want just to make her happy," a little voice whispered inside my head. But I pushed it away. I couldn't do that to her again.
"Enough thinking, Ava," I scolded myself and grabbed my phone. My heart almost stopped—two notifications, one from Ethan, one from Oliver. My lips curled into a smile at Ethan's name before I even realised it. But Oliver? I rolled my eyes. Not now, Oliver.
I tapped Ethan's message first.
Ethan: Hi Ava, I wanted to ask why you ignored me. I really want to know if you're angry at me, and whatever it is, I'm really sorry.
My chest tightened. He sounded almost desperate. I wanted to reply straight away, to tell him no, of course I wasn't angry. But my fingers froze. No. I can't. With a sigh, I threw my phone onto the bed and opened my wardrobe. Picking out a simple T-shirt and leggings, I lay on the bed—and without meaning to, I fell asleep.
Hours later, I woke groggily. Night had already fallen. "Oh no," I groaned, rubbing my eyes. "This is why they call me Sleeping Beauty." My stomach growled, and right on cue, Mum called me for dinner. I rushed to the kitchen, half-running because I was starving. But the moment I saw him—Dad—I wished I hadn't bothered.
I hated seeing his face. The way he treated Mum was unbearable. He never took proper responsibility for us, even though he could. We weren't rich, not even close. A middle-class family, scraping by in a tiny flat. But Mum still managed to give me enough to be content. She worked herself to the bone with little hustles here and there, while Dad held onto his money like it was gold. He could have set her up with a shop, something steady, but no. He was stingy to the core.
Mum smiled warmly at me, though, urging, "Greet your father."
"Evening," I muttered, grabbing my plate. I headed back to my room with my food. The flat was small, just one bedroom really, but since my three older brothers rarely came home, we all managed. I preferred eating in the room anyway—less chance of seeing Dad's face. Honestly, I'd be happier if he stopped coming home altogether. Maybe then we'd finally have peace.
I set the plate on my lap and stared down. Shepherd's pie. My favourite comfort food, though Mum's version was always simple—minced beef, mashed potatoes, peas mixed in. Nothing fancy, but warm and filling.
I balanced the plate and unlocked my phone again. I couldn't keep ignoring Oliver, so I finally opened his message.
Oliver: Hey babe.
I rolled my eyes. "Don't call me babe," I muttered under my breath, fingers flying to type it. But I stopped myself and just sent a plain Hi.
He replied instantly.
Oliver: You took so long to reply. Sorry for being pushy, but I really want to know what's been making you so busy. You don't have time for me anymore.
I chewed a forkful of shepherd's pie before replying. Well, you know I've been busy with prep for my A-levels. I need to get into uni, so I've been off my phone a lot.
Oliver: Oh nice. I shouldn't disturb you then.
"Good," I muttered. But instead of leaving it there, guilt made me ask about his own studies. He admitted he wasn't planning on uni.
Red flag.
I frowned. So what do you plan to do?
Oliver: Not really into all that school stuff.
Hmm, I thought. Another one of those lads who thinks education is pointless. Just to be clear, I asked if he smoked.
His reply came quick: Why are you asking? You don't like smokers?
No, I typed back. But I was suspicious. Why dodge the question?
When I pressed again, he finally replied: No, I don't. But there's nothing wrong with smokers.
"Hmm," I said, shoving another bite in my mouth. Fine. But I don't like the smell of cigarettes, and I wouldn't want my partner smoking.
Oliver: Oh okay, but I don't.
The chat fizzled, awkward and dull. He tried to circle back to the question he'd asked me before—the one I'd been avoiding. Whether I wanted to be with him. My stomach knotted. Deep down, I knew the answer. I didn't. But instead, I told him I was still thinking. He seemed disappointed, his replies flat after that. I changed the topic, but it wasn't the same.
He wasn't Ethan.
I fell asleep with the phone slipping from my hands, whispering, "I miss him."
---
A Month Later – Ethan
I woke early, groaning as I rolled over to check my phone. Same routine. Same disappointment. No message from Ava. Not even one. Just the little seen tick on the messages I'd sent yesterday.
Still, I sent another. Good morning. Pathetic, maybe, but I couldn't stop myself. She'd become a habit, the first thought in my head every morning.
It wasn't like me. I'd never been the one to double text, to chase. I was usually the one leaving girls on read, letting them do the waiting. But now? I was the one being aired. And the stupid thing was—I didn't even care. I just wanted her.
She did something to me no one else ever had.
I dragged myself out of bed, heading for the shower, trying to rinse her from my mind. Halfway through, my phone rang—Mum. I answered quickly, the sound of her voice always grounding me.
We chatted, and I spoke to my little sister too. Mum didn't live with us anymore. She stayed with her husband—my stepdad—and their daughter. They'd been together three years now, since I was fifteen.
Sometimes I wished she'd been this happy with my dad. But she deserved joy, even if it wasn't with him. My stepdad treated her right, and their one year old daughter who was my sister adored him. That was enough.
Still, growing up without that steady family picture left scars. Maybe that's why I found it so hard to love a girl. I never trusted it to last.
But Ava… Ava made me feel different.