❝Maybe there's a whole bunch of impossible people waiting for me out there. Waiting to make me feel that same uncertainty again and again.❞
Allison Romero has never had any luck when it comes to finding love, or maintaining friends...or just about...
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a/n PLEASE ANSWER THIS: would you be interested if I write a bunch of one-shots from Ethan's point of view? Assuming I know how to write from a males point of view lmao. So as soon as this book ends, you guys can give me chapter numbers that I'll write from his POV, because to me Ethan is a very interesting character and half the time he says something, there's a double meaning.
also I've been dropping mad hints throughout the book and a shit ton of foreshadowing so y'all can't read the ending and think I cheated you. Heh. I feel so sneaky. Some of y'all are smart and picking up. I never add a detail for no reason.
39: CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
I WAKE up the next day and look around the room in confusion. It hits me that I slept in Ethan's bed and I feel horrified. Surely I couldn't have been that tired. The sound of weak snores fill the room and I turn my head to look beside me. Ethan's naked back comes into view and I resist the urge to gasp loudly. We slept in the same bed?!
I silently shift a bit closer to him. My bare legs glide against the cold sheets as I move closer to him. He's sleeping on his side and facing away from me. My eyes widen at the faint, red scratches on his upper back. I subconsciously reach out to trace them with my fingers. Ethan mumbles something tiredly but doesn't turn around.
"Ethan..." I'm still tracing over the scars on his back. "What's on your back? Did you hurt yourself?"
No answer.
I flick his back with my cold hands, hoping that would wake him up. But he doesn't even move. Ethan's a heavy sleeper. I reached this conclusion when I stayed at his apartment a few weeks ago. You could blow a foghorn in that boy's ear and he still wouldn't wake up. But this is something entirely different.
Something's wrong.
"Ethan...?" I hesitantly reach out to press a hand against his shoulder. His skin is on fire.
Ethan stirs in his sleep. He turns around so that he's lying on his back. I look at his exposed chest. He's not built or beefy, but his stomach is flat and lean. I'm averting my gaze away.
There are beads of sweat on his forehead. Something is definitely not right with that boy. I reach out to press a hand against his sweaty forehead. He's burning up. I get up and tuck my legs underneath me, so I'm sitting right beside him. "Ethan." I shove his shoulder. "You have to wake up. I think you have a fever."
Ethan moans groggily in response and his eyes fly open a few seconds later to look at me. He stares blankly at me. "Fuck off," he mumbles and then turns to bury his face in his pillow. He lies down on his stomach and the cover slips down until it's resting on his lower back.
