Bullet(4)

I hadn’t, but it wasn’t because I wasn’t interested. It would be more because I’d been under my parents’ watchful eyes. So I said, “I don’t know any, but if they’re good, I could.” Did that sound as stupid as I thought it did in retrospect?

“Well, the two bands I’m going to see are called Last Five Seconds and Name of My Killer. They’re both extreme metal, and I figured if you like Suicide Silence, you’d like them too. I know the guys in Last Five Seconds, so I’ll be there supporting them, but…I have an extra ticket and thought you might like to come along.”

Seriously? That fast? And would this be considered a date? I could hardly keep my breathing steady. It had definitely been worth my time to sit by this gorgeous guy and to strike up a conversation. “Yeah…if you really want me to.”

He shrugged and smiled. “It’d be more fun to take someone with me who likes the music as much as I do.”

“Thanks, Ethan.” That was the first time I’d actually said his name. Ooh…I liked the way it felt on my tongue. “Yeah, I’d love to go.” We programmed each other’s number into our cell phones and then went to our separate dorms.

I was convinced I’d met the cutest, nicest guy on campus.

We didn’t hang out during the time before the concert, but we did talk regularly in history class for the entire month before the concert. As far as I was concerned, the first week of November couldn’t arrive fast enough.





Chapter Three

Present



I SAT UP and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I looked over at Ethan. He was snoring, but it was soft, and if I hadn’t been in the same room, I wouldn’t have heard it. I looked over at him, feeling happier than I had in a long time.

Ethan’s hair was tousled, black eyeliner smeared under his eyes. The sheet lay around his waist so I could look upon his muscular arms and chest. I ran my fingers up the soft, smooth, hairy skin on his arm, just gazing upon his beauty. Ethan had always been good looking, but I hadn’t appreciated it in a long time. He’d been so distant and I’d been so angry that I hadn’t just taken him in and enjoyed him in a long time. Rubbing his arm must have awakened him, because he stirred and then turned on his side to face me.

“Morning.” He grinned through the at-least-three-day growth on his face. “How do you feel?”

“The same as usual. Why?”

A grin spread across his face. “You’re pregnant.”

I couldn’t help but smile. When Ethan was happy, his mood was infectious. “I’ve been pregnant for two months, Ethan. I don’t have morning sickness anymore. I feel fine.” I hoped he wouldn’t ask why I’d put off telling him for so long. I smiled as he sat up in bed. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“What do I want for breakfast? I’m making breakfast this morning because you’re in no condition to.”

Okay, so right now this was cut and funny, but it would grow annoying pretty damn quick if he didn’t chill. “Ethan, I’m pregnant, not disabled.” I bounced up off the bed and put on my robe and slippers. “Would you rather have eggs or pancakes?”

“Babe, you relax. Take a shower while I make breakfast.”

“Ethan—”

“I insist. So…eggs or pancakes?”

“You’re the chef. You decide.” I walked into the bathroom and turned on the water so I could take a warm shower. Ethan really was going to change; I could tell already.

* * *

In the following weeks, Ethan and I enrolled in a natural childbirth class, but we wouldn’t be attending until it was closer to my due date. He came with me to my next monthly OB/GYN visit and asked the doctor dozens of questions and even offered to pay him more if he’d be more patient while Ethan went through his list. He even bought books. I told him I wanted to have the baby at home, and I was going to start interviewing midwives, and he freaked out. He didn’t like the idea of our baby being born “the way third world babies are delivered.” I interviewed them anyway, but he wasn’t happy about it.

Ethan was a guitarist for a heavy metal band, and each afternoon they would get together and practice. They were close to laying down all the tracks for their newest CD, but they wanted to perfect each song and make any changes they felt were necessary. Before Ethan knew I was pregnant, he’d been in a rut—he would party with the other willing band members till morning or until he was too drunk to drink anymore. Now, though, he’d quit partying after each session as he had been. He was home a lot more. He started making meals, and he liked shopping for the baby. He quit drinking and smoking like he’d promised. He occasionally had a beer or a few cigarettes, but I’d never expected him to quit completely anyway. That would have been too much to ask of him. I was just glad he was making the effort. I was overwhelmed by those efforts, because I’d never expected Ethan to quit; I’d thought he was just speaking through his drunken and overly enthusiastic stupor.

So…as I started to show a little in my tummy, I was cautious yet optimistic. Ethan Richards might turn out to be a great dad after all. I couldn’t give up hope.





Chapter Four

Past



WHEN I FIRST met Ethan, he seemed to be one of the nicest guys I’d ever met. And we had a common bond—our mutual interest in and love of heavy metal music. I hadn’t met many people like myself who knew the names of every person in the rock groups I listened to; Ethan was one of those few. And as the days progressed, I found myself more and more attracted to him.

And November arrived. By then, Ethan and I had become pretty good friends, even though our interactions mostly took place right before and after history class. We texted a little and walked back to the dorms after most classes, but we didn’t spend much time with each other aside from that. It didn’t matter, though, because the time we did spend together was exciting for me. He was a guy friend whom I was also attracted to, and that was a bit of a thrill.

The local bands were playing in our sleepy little college town. Ordinarily, I walked everywhere, but Ethan had his truck with him at school, and he was going to drive to the concert. He stopped by my dorm room to get me, and I was so glad Charlotte was already gone. I didn’t want her putting the moves on my hot friend. When I opened the door, though, I got a lot more than I’d bargained for. Yep, we were going to attend a metal concert and I should have expected it, but I hadn’t. So I had to pick my jaw up off the floor before I could say hi.

Jeez, did the guy know how to clean up…or metal up might be a better description. He was metal standing in my doorway. He was poured into black leather pants that—holy shit—made me start salivating, and he wore a black mesh shirt ripped halfway down the middle. The effect? He could have been naked, because my mind was able to fill in the blanks. Well, almost. Remember…I was still a virgin at this point in the game. But the effect almost made me blush.

That wasn’t all, though. He also had a black leather jacket draped over his shoulders and was wearing black leather spiked wristbands. Yeah, he was a little metal. I also saw he was wearing silver hoop earrings in both ears. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed the piercing holes in his ears before, but maybe it was just because I hadn’t actually seen him wearing earrings. And, as I caught my breath, I also noticed the tiniest bit of eyeliner and black nail polish on his fingertips. Yeah…not many guys could pull off guyliner, but Ethan was one of them. Somehow, it made him look sexier.

I’d dressed for the concert too, but compared to him, I felt dreadfully underdressed, and I hoped he was okay with that. I wore black jeans, black boots, and a black Anthrax t-shirt. Yeah, all in black. It was a metal concert, for goodness sake, so black was the color. My makeup was darker than usual and I had on more than Ethan did, so I thought I was okay there. I wore my medium-length light brown hair down, but I ran a little mousse through it so it looked a little messy. And I should have worn a coat, but I thought my jean jacket looked a lot cooler.

God, I was excited. Much as I’d wanted to go to concerts (and my parents didn’t have too much of a problem with them, in spite of being super religious), I hadn’t attended many in high school. It was usually a problem with money, but oftentimes it was also because I didn’t want to go to a concert by myself. A lot of my friends weren’t into the music I was, and at that age, I would have felt self-conscious attending a concert alone. So, walking out to his truck, I tried not to act giddy and silly. Hot guy by my side (maybe a future boyfriend?), going to an awesome heavy concert…could life get much better?

When we climbed in his shiny black truck, he turned the ignition switch. The engine didn’t purr; it roared. It was loud and bad and mean. I could feel the power without taking the wheel. And then he turned the stereo on. He was playing some Ozzy, but it was old Ozzy. I recognized “Crazy Train” just from Randy Rhoads’s opening licks. I loved that song and then wondered how broad Ethan’s musical scope was. We’d only talked about newer metal, focusing a lot on things like metalcore and thrash, but here he was playing some early straight-up metal from the eighties. The music was cranked, just like it should be, so I knew we couldn’t and wouldn’t engage in conversation on the way to the concert. But as soon as he’d parked the truck and we got out and started walking toward the…well, I guess you could call it an arena, but it was a small venue with a nice stage and great acoustics called The Cave. They didn’t serve alcohol, probably so they could get a younger crowd in, because we’d spend money, drunk or sober.