no questions asked | ethma

9

Emma

Today was the day. I was nervous. I didn't know if I had a specific reason to be nervous, but ever since I found out that Ethan has the same tattoo that Mark had, something clicked with Ethan in my mind.

It was like Mark was telling me that Ethan could be something good for me.

I mean, something casual wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, right? Mrs. McNamara even told me I should. And she knows everything.

The bar I worked at was also a restaurant, and every once in a while, I worked the lunch shift as a waitress.

So, I kept myself busy with that before I had to go home and get ready for dinner at Ethan's.

Why was I so nervous?

Was it because Ethan and I somehow opened up to each other so easily? I found him to be one of the easiest people to talk to, because he just understood.

Especially the situation about my sister suddenly passing away when I was younger. He was the only person I've ever met that also lost a sibling. It sucked, and he knew exactly how I felt about it.

He knew what it was like to be the other child in the family. He knew what it was like to have to pretend to hold it together for my parents.

He knew what it was like to be known as the kid who's sibling died, and how nobody knew how to have a normal conversation with you ever again. They either acted like you were royalty, or they acted like you had the plague. There was never an in between.

But Ethan was the in-between. He was the in-between because he went through the same thing.

For him, he was in high school, so girls started throwing themselves at him left and right, and he didn't mind.

For me, I got voted homecoming queen and wanted to run away.

Sure, I still had friends back home, but they never treated me like I was a normal human being after Natalie died. They just treated me like I was extra fragile.

It wasn't until I went to college that I was finally around people who didn't know about my sister. People who finally treated me like real friends are supposed to. Even if they found out, they still acted normal about it, but it was never the same as someone understanding.

Ethan understood, and maybe that's why we found each other so easy to open up to.

And maybe that was something that made Ethan and I click. Our connection was raw, and our still-new friendship was one of the realest ones I've ever been a part of.

Maybe that's why I was nervous. Because of how real it was.

Maybe I was nervous about putting myself back out there. Maybe I was nervous about going for something casual.

Or maybe it was Ethan's perfect smile, or his brownish-hazel eyes. His sense of humor, or the ways he's cared when I needed it the most.

When someone describes a guy who is tall dark and handsome, someone like Ethan is what should be the model picture.

His skin was slightly tanner than an olive skin tone, his eyes were dark and beautiful, and his hair was bordering between dark brown and black. I wondered what it would be like to run my fingers through it.

Maybe what made me nervous was how good it felt the first time he gave me a hug. He was so warm, and so soft. He had a sweet vanilla scent, and I'd sell my soul to smell it again. I didn't think a moment like that would give me butterflies, and I was right. It gave me a whole zoo.

Maybe I was nervous about the fact that he is incredibly hot, and his hands could definitely do some unspeakable things to me. Let's just say that last week when I watched The Bachelor, I wasn't exactly thinking about the hot guy on the show while I pleasured myself. I was thinking about Ethan.

And what scared me was that it was the first time that's ever happened. Ethan flickered into my mind, and suddenly I was more turned on than ever while I was alone on the couch with a glass of wine and my favorite tv show. Just imagining what would happen if Ethan has me against the wall. In the shower. The kitchen counter.

How did I get into these thoughts? I couldn't stop.

But it definitely made me realize how attracted to Ethan I am.

After work I went home, showered, did some light makeup. I went dress casual with a black skirt and a navy blue blouse to go with it.

I curled my hair.

This was the most I had gotten ready since Mark died. Well, besides his funeral.

I put on some of my favorite perfume, and it was light enough to not stink up a room, but just enough to be noticeable if we were sitting close.

Finally, I looked in the mirror and made sure everything was okay. I gave myself a pep-talk, and grabbed a bottle of white wine from the cabinet.

I still had a few minutes before I had to be across the hall, so I took those few minutes to just breathe, calm myself down, and to tell myself that what I was doing was okay.

I was young, and I deserved to have some fun after what I've been through. Mark would be happy that I was doing this for myself. He wanted me to.

It was finally time, so I walked out of my apartment, and across the hall before I knocked on Ethan's door.

I heard the door unlock, and there Ethan was. He smiled as he opened the door.

"Come on in. You're right on schedule."

I smiled. "I brought a bottle of wine."

"Classic Emma right there. Make yourself at home. Sit down if you want. Dinner is gonna be ready soon. I made lasagna with handmade pasta."

"Geez you're a real chef." I said, sitting down and putting the wine bottle on the table. Ethan shrugged.

"I had to be impressive tonight somehow."