𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓, ethan edwards

chapter xxix

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

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MARK DIDN'T KNOW how to feel about the information he just pieced together. He didn't know if he should be shocked, betrayed, confused, or mad at either one of the two. So, without a single solidified emotion in his brain, he chose to keep his mouth shut. He truly didn't know how he'd missed it. The glances, the blushing, the smiles, the lingering touches, and it was going on for basically three months at this point, all under his nose. Sure, he didn't know how he should emote towards his friends at the moment, but he was certain on one thing: his anger towards Ethan Edwards.

Ethan Edwards, who was dating his best friend for a few months now. Ethan Edwards who calmed Anastasia down when he was too busy with his schoolwork. Ethan Edwards who made her feel 'safe' (quoting Stassie). Ethan Edwards who had a blonde latched to his side. with his arm wrapped around her slim shoulders. Ethan fucking Edwards.

It was hard for Mark to seal his lips shut– the only time they opened being to catch the whiskey he poured down his throat or to capture Lola's mouth in a quick kiss. He watched as Stassie seemed to shrink shorter and shorter in deep contrast from her tall, confident 5'8 stature. She was still tucked into Luca's side as she nursed on her rum and coke. He could tell that she was already tipsy based off the fact that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were lidded. But he could also tell that the one cup she was finishing off would not be enough for her. Not tonight. And frankly, Mark couldn't blame her. As much as he didn't want his girls drinking to an excessive, he knew when it was quite literally required to get wasted in order forget the emotional pain.

The party around them continued on, the house boomed with any line dance or rap song that was requested, smoke floated in the air– and whether that was condensation forming from all the bodies grinding or whatever was being smoked on the couch in the living room, Mark didn't know. He wasn't really paying attention to anything other than Anastasia who's lips were still downturned slightly in a pout. Just from looking at her body language he could read that she did not want to talk about it, and she didn't want to bring attention to herself.

And so, after what felt like an hour passed by, when in reality was only three minutes, Mark had made his mind him. He wasn't going to interrogate Stassie until they got home for their week-long break. But what he was going to do is find out what the ever-loving fuck is going on inside of Ethan's brain.

Yet, he stayed stationary in his position leaned against the kitchen counter with his arm around Lola, just watching. Watching as the curly haired girl and Luca engaged in a conversation about different strains of weed. Watching Duke receive a lap dance from a sorority girl in the living room, which made him chuckle quietly to himself. Watching as more people flooded into the the senior house, cheering when they saw they're friends. Watching as Ethan still had that blonde bimbo tucked into his side, her arms around his torso and smiles on both of their faces as they talked with Nolan and Grano. Watching his best friend having what seemed to be the worst time of her life as she tried to bury herself deeper and deeper into Luca's side, almost as if she was drying to suffocate herself.

His eyes shifted up to his teammates face, his arm still around Stassie's shoulders. He didn't think anything of the slight movements that came from the girl at his side but he could pick up a vibe, a feeling; and he knew not to question just why she seemed to get closer and closer to him.

Mark wasn't even listening to the weed-related conversation. His heart was to busy melting over the fact at how good of friends his teammates are with his girls, and his mind was too entranced by the topic of murder. More specifically– murdering Ethan Edwards. He'll yell at Anastasia later for going distinctly against his one request, but he thought– no, he knew, she didn't need that right now.