Page 78 of Naive in Love

“Let’s blow this joint. Where else can we go?” Paige asks loudly.

“Can we talk? Please.” My stomach flips nervously waiting for him to answer.

He simply nods, and says to the group, “Let’s head to my place.” He looks at me and whispers, “Coming with me?”

“Yes.”

“Come on.” He grabs my hand and leads the way.

“Let me close my tab,” Preston says behind us.

Ethan stops, turns around, and tells Preston, “I’m taking Sophia with me. Stop and pick up drinks. And while you’re at it, pick up something to eat. I’m starving.”

As we walk out to the car, my mind races with how to begin this conversation. Can I admit how strong my feelings for him are? Will he believe me? Would I believe him if he had done what I did?

He opens the Rover door for me and closes it, then walks around to the other side. He climbs in and starts the car. He grabs for the gear shift, but before moving it, he looks at me.

“You sure?” The doubt swimming in his eyes saddens me.

I need to do something to show him I am ready. Ready for the talk, ready to be with him, ready to work on myself, ready to live. Summoning all the courage I can muster, I lean over the console. Reaching out, I place my hand on his scruffy jaw and pull him in for a soft quick kiss. "I'm ready. Let's go."

A smile pulls at his lips, erasing most of my nerves. The drive is quiet except for his music filling the car.

We walk into his house, and he opens the refrigerator to a shelf full of beer. I turn my attention to the counter and see several bottles of liquor.

"Want anything?" he asks standing in front of the open fridge.

"Sure, but why did you send the guys for drinks if you're stocked?"

"To give us time alone. Same reason I sent them for food." He points to his head. "I was thinking ahead. I'm not starving, but I'm sure we'll scarf it down later."

"I guess we better not waste time, then. They’ll be here soon."

He walks into the living room and sits on the couch. I follow. He hands me one of the beers.

"I should start.” I pause, breathing through the nerves. “I'm sorry." He opens his mouth, so I place my index finger over his lips. "Please. Let me finish. I need to say this.”

He clutches my hand softly, kissing my finger and giving me a silent go-ahead.

"I'm sorry. Sorry for not seeing things clearly. For doubting. For not trusting. I know it may be hard to believe, but I care for you. More than you know. More than I realized. And if your offer from the beach is still open, I want to take you up on it."

My chest pounds and echoes in my ears with each second of his silence. What does it mean?

"Why now?"

He’s doubtful, and I can understand why. I have to earn back his trust.

"Because I’m seeing so much clearer now.” I take a drink from my beer, and he does the same. "When you dropped me off that day after our last lunch, the one when you told me I didn’t have to choose. I was hurt. Gawd. I was gutted. I’ve never felt that kind of pain in my life.”

“Why did—” he interrupts.

I place my finger to my lips. He takes a breath and gives me a small smile.

“I knew I had feelings for you, but I didn’t realize how strong they were until you told me to stay with Caleb. To save you the dramatics of that day, I'll just say that my feelings for you—"

"Then why didn't you say anything then?"

"Because I thought you walked away because you didn't mean what you said at the beach."

---