Hickeys | Ethan Dolan

ch. nineteen

Ethan bit the inside of his cheek and rolled his eyes. I saw him turning slightly on his heels getting ready to walk away.

I jumped out of the car and chased him. I really fucked up this time.

"Ethan!" I shouted.

He stopped, but didn't turn. "Hayden. You can't do that."

I looked at the ground. "Do what?"

This question made Ethan turn around. He laughed half-heartedly and wiped his forehead. He was clearly pissed off.

"You tell me you're scared of Wesley and how you want me to protect you, but you go off and invite him into your damn car!" He shouted.

I felt myself cowering down. Ethan was intimidating. "I wasn't going to do anything. We were just talking."

"Yeah. just like we were just dancing at the party." He sighed. "Hayden, you can't let him back into your circle. You just can't. It's either me, or him. And I hate to make you choose, but you obviously have no idea what you want."

A tear fell down my cheek. "So you don't love me? You're going to leave me when I'm
most vulnerable? Something goes wrong and you're just going to dip?" I threw my hands over my head. I was breathing fast. I was panicking.

Ethan was leaving me.

"I'm not leaving you." Ethan stepped towards me. "I'm letting you choose whether I stay or not." He kissed the top of my head and walked away.

I didn't chase him. I let him leave. Ethan knew what was best, but this didn't feel like what was best. I felt exposed.

I never should have exposed my neck to him. i Those damn hickeys. His damn lips. Him.

He was where the trouble began.

•••

I sat in my room. My knees were pulled tight to my chest. I couldn't believe that Ethan really did that.

He distanced himself. On purpose.

I felt super vulnerable. Wesley obviously knew and texted me.

Wes
you ok???

yeah

ethan is a good guy,
you know?

yeah. why do you care?

bc i want you to be happy
and ethan obviously makes
you happy...

he did...

what do you mean 'did'?

we're kind of arguing.

not to be nosy, but about
what??

you...

oh...

yeah...

I had no idea where this was going to lead. He read my message, typed, then erased. He typed again, then erased.

I wish I could see what he was typing. Was he going to be supportive? Mean? Nice? Helpful?

So many things could've came out of his words. I would never know what though, because he took forever to send them.