Page 83 of Rare Blend
He blows out a breath, and it fogs between us. “Friends,” he agrees.
CHAPTER 31
Marisa
PRACTICALLY OBSCENE
It’s been over a week since the Trunk or Treat Festival. It’s also been over a week since I’ve seen Ethan. After we agreed to keep being friends, I thought we’d at least see each other, chat a bit, maybe even hang out. But nothing. I haven’t even seen him in passing, almost like he’s avoiding me.
It’s not as if we were very close beforehand, but I thought after driving me over a snowy mountain pass and sticking his tongue down my throat, there would at least be a little texting. I could always reach out, but I don’t want to come across as annoying or clingy. For all I know, he was only placating me to avoid the fallout of our kiss and intends to avoid me until I leave.
My fingers twitch across my phone screen, practically itching to text him. But I can’t. I won’t do it. I’m not going to beg for attention from someone who doesn’t want to give it.
And what would be the point, anyway? Clearly, there’s chemistry there and hanging out or talking would only make it that much more apparent after we both decided not to get involved with one another. Ethan’s being the rational one, doing the right thing and avoiding?—
My thoughts are cut off by the chime of my phone, alerting me of a text message.
Ethan: Hey
I stare at the text as a line of heat works its way through me, lighting fire to all the feelings I’ve been pretending aren’t that intense. It’s a silly crush, that’s all. It’ll go away. It’s not even a good text. I press the sleep button on my phone and toss it on the couch cushion next to me, purposefully choosing to distance myself from it and not respond to his shitty text. I mean, he didn’t even use any punctuation.
Seconds tick by, the large, decorative clock on the wall echoing like a ticking time bomb. I stare at the phone and then, before I can second guess myself, reach for it and fire back a text to Ethan. What can I say? I have zero restraint.
Marisa: Shane?
I can’t help but giggle. He knows I have his number saved, but it’s so fun riling him up.
Ethan: Very funny. If Shane were texting you, he would’ve sent a dick pic and misspelled every other word.
Marisa: So you’re saying I’m not getting a dick pic? Darn.
A minute later a picture comes through and for a second, like a very, very split second, I worry he actually did send a dick pic. But then I remember I’m texting Ethan, and he would never.
A laugh bursts out of me as I open the picture, and it’s of a banana. A banana being held in a very suggestive pose, much like a man would actually take a dick pic, down low, by his crotch, his hand fisting it. I’m momentarily distracted by theprominent veins in his forearms. The fact that he knows exactly how all guys take dick pics makes me think he’s definitely taken one before. Maybe there’s a side to Ethan I’ve never seen.
Marisa: Comparing yourself to a banana? Someone’s cocky…get it
Ethan: You have the humor of a ten-year-old boy.
Marisa: Thank you. It’s one of my many positive attributes.
Ethan: What are you up to tonight?
My heartbeat quickens. Where is this going?
Marisa: Just having a night in, watching trashy TV. What are you doing tonight?
Ethan: Same as you, minus the trashy TV. I have the Discovery channel on for noise.
I smile into the phone. He’s such a dork, and I love it.
Marisa: Ok old man.
Marisa: Want some company?
I hold my breath, waiting for his response. So much for not begging for attention. Thankfully, he’s quick on the reply.
Ethan: Sure. I’ll come to you. Be there in about ten minutes.
