Ella's Twisted Senior Year(18)
She laughs and touches her hair. “It’s not that short.” It stops a few inches below her shoulders.
“Well I remember when it was down to your butt,” Dakota says. Then she drops her backpack to the floor and wraps Ella in a hug. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, kiddo.” Ella pulls back and compares their heights with her hand. “Okay, you’re like exactly as tall as I am now. Not fair.”
My sister smirks. “I think I’m a little taller, actually.”
Ella’s eyes go big. “I’m totally beating you up for that.”
They laugh and a weird knot forms in my stomach. Seeing Ella have fun with my sister is exactly what I’d imagined having a girlfriend would be like. Only with Kennedy, she always wanted to be alone and never missed an opportunity to say how annoying it was to be around a thirteen-year-old.
I made a good call breaking it off. Now I just need to find a girl like Ella. You know, one who doesn’t hate me.
Ella lingers in the hallway after Dakota goes into her room to do homework. She stares at her fingernails. “I hope that wasn’t because of me.”
I lift an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”
Her lips slide to the side of her mouth. “I wasn’t exactly eavesdropping, but you did break up with Kennedy just now, right?”
She tilts her chip up as she waits for an answer and the skylight over the stairs shines directly into her eyes. I have the sudden urge to sweep her hair behind her ear, to see if her cheek feels as soft as it looks.
Damn, this is not good. “Have you seen the rec room yet?”
She nods. “For like two seconds, yeah.”
I ignore the tingly feeling in my stomach and motion for her to follow me. Mom’s already set up an air mattress and cleaned up some of the mess I’d left behind. For so long Ella was my best friend and then she was just the stranger next door. The one who’d broken my heart. Now she’s here, in my house, sleeping in the same room that used to hold our blanket forts and Harry Potter movie marathons.
I run a hand through my hair. “Let me show you the liquor cabinet. Something tells me we could use a shot.”
Chapter 11
The rec room has also been through a renovation since I was last over here. There’s brand new brown leather couches behind a gorgeous blue and gray rug that’s so fluffy, I want to kick off my shoes and walk across it. There’s still a foosball table and Mr. Poe’s old Pacman arcade game in the corner. The TV has been replaced with a flat screen that’s mounted on the wall and it’s at least as long as I am tall. The other side of the room has the door to the small bathroom and the floor is covered in rubber mats instead of carpet. Various weight lifting equipment fills that corner, making Ethan’s own personal gym.
I imagine he must use the weights a lot, because a chest as filled out as his doesn’t just happen without dedication. Heat rushes to my cheeks. Will he be working out while I’m crashing in here?
“Here we are,” Ethan says, rising up from the mini fridge in the corner of the room. Above the fridge is his dad’s treasure: a framed Dallas Cowboy’s jersey signed by Troy Aikman.
Ethan holds up a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses. “Get over here,” he says, setting the glasses on a nearby end table. “Let’s toast to how freaking awkward this is.”
I walk over but I don’t reach for the shot glass. I give him a pointed look, stalling for time while my brain tries to figure out what’s happening here. “So you’re a drinker now?”
He throws his head back and downs the shot. “Nope. Not really.”
“Kind of seems like it,” I say with a snort as he pours himself another one.
He holds the other glass out to me. “You gonna let me drink alone?”
“I’m thinking about it,” I say, lifting the glass and holding it up eye level. “This is totally illegal, Ethan Poe.”
He shrugs. “I’ll be eighteen in two months.”
I down the shot in one gulp. “Still not legal.”
Ugh, the vodka burns my throat and stings my eyes. I try to act like it doesn’t affect me.
Ethan grins. “It’s legal in Europe.”
I shove my glass out to him, motioning for a refill. This stuff is gross but if it takes off the edge of being around my enemy, then I guess I’ll have to down another shot. “We’re not in Europe.”
“Ah, you’re just as snarky as I remember.” He takes my hand, holding the glass to keep it steady while he pours another shot. The feeling of his fingers over mine sends a jolt through my body that’s stronger than anything in his bottle of vodka. How is it possible to hate someone so much, yet still want them to like you?
I take a deep breath to steady myself and then down the second shot. I’ve never drank pure liquor before so I have no idea how my body will handle it. I set the glass back on the table and walk over to the couches. I get the feeling Ethan and I are both playing a game where we act like we’re not freaking out about being around each other.
So much for ignoring him.
The TV turns on and the couch sinks as Ethan sits on the opposite side, as close to the armrest as he can get. “I’m three shots deep and you’re only two,” he says, pointing at me. All I see is the sexy way his forearm muscles tighten while his finger aims straight at my chest. “You owe me one.”