Page 136 of Maybe You

Ethan’s green eyes move up and down me, a contemplative look in them.

“It was nice. Really nice.” He chews on his lip for a second. “You’re different,” he says.

My brows hike higher. “Different how?”

Another calculating glance follows. “More…” He purses his lips, eyes still racing up-down-left-right like he’s on a timer and needs to take everything about me in while he can. “More confident,” he says. “Back when we were going out—and I don’t mean this as an insult—but it was like you were always trying your damn hardest not to stand out. Even if it was just the two of us. You put so much effort into hiding from me, even if I didn’t care about…” His voice drops off, and he gestures toward me with his hand.

“The scars,” I say. “You can say it. I won’t freak out on you.”

He shakes his head, a bit of exasperation, and a large portion of knowing in his gaze. “It didn’t matter to me,” he says. “I just liked you. A lot. And I guess I was a bit offended that you thought I was… I don’t even know. Shallow like that?”

“That wasn’t about you. It was just my own insecurities being very loud and intrusive, and I didn’t know how to deal with it back then.”

“But you do now,” he says, and it’s not a question so much as a simple confirmation.

I card my fingers through my hair and chuckle. “I’m a work in progress.”

He cocks his head. “Aren’t we all?”

“Some more than others.”

He smiles at that.

And I smile back.

It’s nice.

And yeah, I think we can be friends again. The crush is long gone by now. When I look at him, I don’t get anything. No butterflies. No wild heartbeat.

But—

My thoughts grind to a sudden halt because in the blink of an eye, Ethan is in front of me.

And his lips are on mine.

It takes a good few seconds to even register the fact that he’s kissing me. Then I’m pulling back, but he’s following me, and there’s a handrail behind me, so I end up in a strange bridge pose, half bent over the railing, which is uncomfortable as hell.

My brain snaps back into action, and I put my hands on Ethan’s chest and push him away.

I’m not the only one whose brain isn’t firing on all cylinders, because once I’ve straightened myself up, Ethan tries to kiss me again.

“Ethan, come on. Stop,” I say. “This is not?—”

That’s all I get out, because seemingly out of nowhere, there’s a whirl of commotion, and Ethan’s back slams against the wall.

“The fuck do you not understand about a ‘stop?’”

That voice is painfully familiar.

Everything about that voice is fucking achingly familiar, even if I don’t seem to be able to compute what the hell is even happening.

Ethan is still pushed up against the wall, with Sutton of all people in his face, gripping the collar of Ethan’s shirt with his fists.

“What the fuck?” Ethan sputters.

“Here’s a hint, asshole,” Sutton growls and cocks his fist.

I snap into action.