Page 33 of Masquerade Mistake

“I have perfect eyesight, so I’ve never needed to. But I used to play around with them when I was younger.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I had this one green pair I used to wear all the time because I thought it made me look hot.”

“I bet you did,” I say, biting back a smile. “You probably drove all the girls crazy.”

“Not exactly, I was kind of a dork around women. But there was this one time, when I—”

He stops himself, and I smack his chest.

“You can’t stop there,” I laugh. “There was this one time…. What’s the rest?”

“You don’t want to hear about it,” he says. Even in the dim light, I can see his cheeks turning pink.

“I really do,” I say. I press against him to stand upright, but he holds me firmly in place. “Tell me, or the night ends now.”

“Oh, really? Well, in that case…”

I remain as still as possible as he launches into the story of how we met. Except, he has no idea that I am part of this story.

“I knew the guy who was throwing the party, but I wouldn’t have gone if my friends hadn’t talked me into it. That, and it was a masquerade party, and there’s something about wearing a mask that offers an extra layer of courage. I didn’t know anyone else there, and they didn’t know me. But then I see this girl lying on the floor. I thought she’d had too much to drink, but she’d just fallen. The whole time all I can think about is how pretty she was, and how confident she sounded, and that if she knew the real me, she’d laugh and walk away.”

“I’m sure she didn’t think that,” I say, breaking my promise not to interrupt.

“Maybe, maybe not. All I know is that with my mask on, I didn’t have to worry about what she thought because she didn’t know me, and probably wouldn’t after that night. I ended up driving her home, and one thing led to another. The crazy part is, we never even learned each other’s names.”

“Did you ever figure out who she was?” I ask.

“No. I didn’t know the first place to look. When I dropped her off, it was blocks from her house because she didn’t want me to know where she lived. I figured she had a reason for keeping things secret. Not only that, it kind of made the whole experience hotter.”

“Do you regret it?” I want him to say yes. I want him to tell me how this girl haunts his dreams and he won’t rest until he finds her. Instead, he kisses my forehead, then rubs his thumb along my cheek.

“It was a long time ago, and we were young. You have nothing to worry about. I’m here for you, and not some girl I had a meaningless fling with.”

His words are supposed to bring me comfort, but it feels like a gut punch to be referred to as a meaningless fling. I hope he’s just saving my feelings. I hope our meaningless fling keeps him up at night.

“So, Claire. You said if I told you, the date didn’t have to end. And since it’s nearly two in the morning and all the bars are closing down, that kind of limits our options.”

This time I do pull away. I look at my phone, shocked at the time. With Maren babysitting, I have nowhere to be in the morning. But I haven’t been out this late in years.

“I didn’t realize the time!”

“I can drop you off at your house, or at Maren’s, if that’s what you want. But we can also head to my house if you’re up for it.”

This time, I feel a jolt in my core that hasn’t been affected by a person since…well, since teenage Ethan.

“I want to,” I say honestly. “But I just don’t, uh…”

“I’m saving myself for marriage,” he interrupts. His face is serious as he says it, but he breaks into a grin when my eyes widen. “I’m kidding.” He brushes a piece of hair from my face, then cradles my cheek. “I’m being selfish, but I just don’t want our date to end. We can take things slow, I promise. I just want to fall asleep with you in my arms.”

Why do these words make the air taste sweeter? I smile, covering his hand with mine.

“I’d love that.”

Chapter 13

Ethan’s home is a one-bedroom condo on the other side of Sunset Bay. It’s modest in location and size, but he makes up for it with a fresh and simple style. It’s clean with a masculine touch, from the grey couch to the hint of cologne in the air. On the walls are eclectic art, and I lean in to study the neon lines intertwined with the shadow of a picture.

“I got it off Etsy,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s embarrassed. But I think it’s cool, especially since that’s where most authors find me and my swag.

I can’t help but think about the kind of guy Ethan is as he shows me around. There’s a weight set in the corner, a bar set up by the couch, and a few plants on his back patio. It’s so different from my home, which gives off the obvious vibes of a single mother who lets her kid take over the aesthetic. For a moment I wonder how different I’d be if I hadn’t had Finn.

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