Annie slipped out the side door, jogged across the narrow lawn, and went up the stairs of the Hawthorne home. It wasn't until she reached the doorway that Ethan leaned against the frame with a casual, slightly devious grin.
"By the way," he murmured, "my mom is out for two nights. Business trip. It's just us."
Annie stopped in her tracks, her heart giving a nervous little thump. "Ethan! You didn't mention that."
"Would you have come over if I did?"
"Probably not," she admitted, her face heating up.
"Exactly. Now, get in here, Doll. The lo mein isn't getting any warmer."
Ethan's room was exactly what you'd expect from a high school quarterback who spent his weekends either on the field or hidden away with a guitar. A Wilson football sat on his desk next to a stack of video games, a battered acoustic guitar leaned against the corner, and a few sports trophies gathered dust on a shelf. It smelled like cedar and clean laundry- and now, intensely, like orange chicken.
They settled onto his bed, leaning back against the headboard with a chaotic spread of white takeout boxes between them. A mindless action flick was playing on his wall-mounted TV, but neither of them was really watching.
"So," Ethan started, deftly navigating a pair of chopsticks. "Besides Peggy being a demon, how was the rest of your day? Did you finish that poem you were working on in English?"
Annie poked at a broccoli. "It's not a poem, really. Just... thoughts. And no. I got stuck on a word for the color of the sky right before it rains. You know, that bruised purple-grey?"
Ethan paused, looking at her with a sincerity that always caught her off guard. "Ominous? Or maybe just 'heavy.' Like it's holding its breath."
Annie looked up, surprised. "Heavy. That's actually perfect. For a jock, you're surprisingly poetic, E."
"Don't tell the team," he teased, nudging her knee with his. "I have a reputation for being short-tempered and stubborn to uphold. If they find out I help my girl with her metaphors, I'm finished."
Annie's breath hitched at the phrase my girl, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned her shoulder against his. "Your secret is safe with me. If you keep feeding me, that is."
On the screen, the movie was reaching its climax. The hero had just pulled the female lead from a collapsing building, the two of them covered in soot and cinematic sweat. As the orchestral music swelled, the hero finally leaned in and kissed her- a long, dramatic Hollywood moment.
Ethan went quiet. The teasing energy in the room shifted, turning thick and charged. He set his chopsticks down on the edge of the box and turned his head to look at Annie. The blue light from the TV danced in his dark eyes.
"You know," he said, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that made Annie's stomach flip. "I'm barely watching this. All I can think about is how that guy took two hours of screen time to do what I've been thinking about every five seconds since your birthday."
Annie felt the familiar tingling start in her fingertips. She put her fork down, her pulse thudding in her neck. "Every five seconds?"
"At least," Ethan murmured. He reached out, his hand sliding behind her neck, his thumb tracing the sensitive skin behind her ear. "I keep replaying it. The way you tasted like sugar. The way you looked right before you closed your eyes. I've had some pretty great games on the field, Annie, but nothing feels as much like a win as when you're looking at me like that."
Annie didn't pull back. She felt the grief, for the first time in months, sitting quietly in the corner rather than standing between them. She felt receptive, open, and dangerously warm.
"I thought about it too," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. "Even when I was mad at you today. I was mostly mad because I was afraid I wouldn't get to do it again."
Ethan's gaze dropped to her lips, his thumb slowing its movement. "Well, Peggy isn't here. Kyson isn't here. And I've got all night to prove to you that you're the only one I'm interested in saving, babydoll."
He leaned in, the distance between them vanishing. This time, there was no hesitation.
The action movie on the wall had faded into a blurred background of explosions and sirens, the sound muffled and inconsequential compared to the heavy, synchronized breathing filling the room. Ethan's bed was a mess of tangled sheets and discarded takeout napkins, providing a soft, private stage for a tension that had been building for three years- almost four.
Ethan was being bolder now. The insecurity he'd felt when Annie shut the curtains had evaporated, replaced by a possessive, grounded confidence. He was leaned over her, his weight supported by his forearms, framing her body with his own.
Every time his lips left hers to trail a path of fire down her neck, Annie felt a dizzying wave of warmth that threatened to pull her under.
His hands, calloused from years of gripping footballs and guitar strings, weren't static. One hand was tangled deep in her black hair, while the other slid down her side, his palm skimming the curve of her waist. When his hand began to stray upward, slipping beneath the hem of her oversized sweater to find the bare skin of her midriff, Annie felt a jolt of electricity that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
As his fingertips brushed the lace of her bra, the reality of the situation crashed back into her. The deep end was suddenly very close, and she wasn't a strong enough swimmer for this current yet.
Annie gasped into the kiss, her hands moving from his shoulders to his chest. She didn't push him away hard, but she planted her palms firmly against his heart, creating a few inches of vital space.
"Ethan," she breathed, her voice shaky and thick with a mix of longing and hesitation. "Wait. Stop."
Ethan froze instantly. His muscles were corded with tension, his heart hammering against her palms like a trapped bird. He didn't complain, he didn't grumble. He simply rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and taking a long, shuddering breath to steady himself.
"Okay," he rasped, his voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel. "Okay. We stop. I've got you, doll. I'm not going anywhere you don't want me to."
He rolled onto his side, pulling her into the crook of his arm so they were lying chest-to-chest, the heat between them still simmering.
Annie tucked her head under his chin, feeling the safe, familiar scent of him.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into the fabric of his shirt. "I just... I've never done this. Any of it. I'm a virgin, Ethan."
The silence that followed was peaceful, not awkward. Ethan squeezed her shoulder, his thumb stroking her arm. "I know, Annie. I figured. And I don't care. I told you, I've waited years. I can wait as long as you need."
Annie pulled back slightly to look at him, her blue eyes searching his. The vulnerability of the moment emboldened her. "What about you? Are you...?"
Ethan let out a short, dry laugh, looking up at the ceiling fan. He rubbed the back of his neck, a rare flush of sheepishness creeping onto his tan face. "I mean... technically, no. But in reality? I've never done it sober, Annie. Back when I was trying to drown out the stuff with my dad, I made some pretty stupid choices at parties. It didn't mean anything. It wasn't... this."
He looked back at her, his gaze intense. "With those girls, I was trying to disappear. With you, I actually want to be present."
Annie felt a surge of affection for him that was almost overwhelming. She reached up, tracing the line of his jaw. "Do you want to?" she asked, the question slipping out before she could filter it. "With me? Eventually?"
Ethan's entire body went rigid. He let out a low, guttural groan, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
"Annie," he warned, his voice vibrating against her skin. "Don't say things like that to me right now. Not when we're alone in a house for two days and I'm already vibrating out of my skin just being near you."
He pulled back, his eyes dark with a heat that made her toes curl. "Don't ask questions like that unless you're ready to follow through with the consequences, babydoll. Because believe me, the answer is yes. It's always been yes. But I'm trying really hard to be a gentleman here, and you aren't making it easy."
Annie giggled, the sound light and bright in the quiet room. She felt a new sense of power, a playful spark that mirrored his own. "Maybe I don't want to make it easy for you, E."
Ethan smirked, his bold, flirty side returning as he pulled the blanket up over both of them, tucking her firmly against his side. "Careful, doll. You're playing with fire. Now, watch the movie and stop being a tease, or I'm going to have to go take a very cold shower."
Annie settled against him, her head on his chest, listening to the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart. The grief was still there, a quiet shadow in the back of her mind, but for the first time in two and a half months, the light in front of her was much, much brighter.