Page 76 of Heartbeat

“Is no one home?” I asked as I looked around.

He took off his shoes and left them by the door, which I mimicked.

“My dad’s at his girlfriend’s,” he said, throwing his keys on a large, round, bare wooden table and walking to the kitchen. “Popcorn?”

“Sure,” I said.

He quickly put a bag of popcorn inside the microwave and hit the button. Two and a half minutes later, Ethan poured the contents in a large plastic bowl. The way he handled the wrapper was as though no heat emanated from it—which I have to admit, was, in and on itself, kind of hot.

“Follow me,” he said, and led me down a long hallway.

His bedroom was the last door on the left. Unlike the rest of the apartment, the room was nothing if not warm. It wasn’t messy, but there was no system to any of it. An unmade king-sized bed with no headboard stood under a large window that took up most of the wall, with a nightstand that had a pile of books and an incense packet—but no lamp—next to it. On the opposite wall, a large dresser with some trophies and medals resting on its top made for the last piece of furniture in the room. There was no artwork on the walls, except for a single painting that stood out in both size and ugliness, and I instantly guessed it was either covering a hole behind it or was something Ethan had been forced into hanging.

“Make yourself comfortable.” He handed me the bowl and walked over to his closet as he unbuttoned his shirt.

I sat on the edge of the bed, next to his laptop, eating a kernel of popcorn or five as I watched him choose a shirt. Eventually, he grabbed a black tee with “I don’t want to be your friend, I want to kiss your neck” written on it in thin white letters, across the chest.

“You’re a fan?” I asked.

He glanced down and then at me. “I like a couple of songs. You?”

“I relate to that particular one,” I said, as he came over and stood in front of me.

He took the bowl of popcorn from my lap and placed it on top of his closed laptop. Then, he took me by the hand and started to pull me up to standing, only he had his knees in between my legs, touching the mattress, so I couldn’t get up without losing balance. As I faltered, he put his free hand around my waist.

“I got you,” he said softly, preventing me from tumbling back.

I put my hand on his chest, just over his heart, and was able to stand up straight. I could feel his breath on my neck as he gazed down at me, looking serious.

“Do you have a curfew?” he asked.

What’s a curfew?

“Not really, no,” I said, trying so very hard to concentrate.

“So, if we were to make out for a while, we could still watch the movie under the duvet after?”

“I, uh, y-yeah…” I bit my lip.

“I can do this, then?” he whispered, leaning down and slowly kissing my neck.

“Uh-huh.” I nodded slowly, absolutely, 100 percent distracted by the way he smelled of vanilla.

Then I lost my balance again, only this time, all he had to do was tighten his grip.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “You won’t fall.”

Liar.

Chapter Sixteen

Only Lovers Left Alive

I woke up with Ethan gently rubbing his thumb in between my eyes. We were lying on our sides, facing each other.

“Hey, you,” I murmured, eyes still shut.

“You sleep like the dead; did you know that?” Ethan said, and I didn’t have to look to know that he’d said it through a smile.

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