Chapter 28
Emily's POV
We stayed like that for a long time. Kissing and swaying to music that had long since stopped playing. His hand warm against my spine. My arms locked around his neck. I let myself be held. Let myself be touched with tenderness instead of violence. Let myself feel the strength of another body supporting mine instead of threatening it.
When we finally separated I had to grip his shoulders to stay upright. My legs genuinely unsteady. Ethan kept his hand at my back—outside my shirt now but still providing steady pressure—while his other hand came up to cup my face.
"You okay?" His voice was rough with emotion and want. But his eyes were concerned. Searching my face for distress.
I nodded. Didn't trust my voice. Nodded again when I realized he needed more reassurance. "Yeah," I managed. Shaky. "Yeah, I'm—that was—"
"Yeah," Ethan agreed. His smile was soft and intimate and made my stomach flip. "It really was."
We stood there in the center of the gymnasium. Holding each other while our breathing slowly returned to normal. I marveled at how much had changed in less than an hour. I'd come here to practice alone. To solve a problem through solitary determination like I always did.
Instead I'd been found. Was helped. Was held and kissed until my legs gave out and my defenses crumbled.
And the terrifying part was I wanted more of it. Wanted more of this feeling of being supported and touched and cared for. Wanted to believe that maybe Ethan was right. That being together meant carrying things jointly instead of bearing separate burdens alone.
"We should probably go," Ethan said eventually. Though he made no move to release me. "Before the janitor comes looking for his keys."
"Probably," I agreed. But I didn't step back either. Not ready to give up the warmth or the solid presence of his body.
Ethan pressed a kiss to my forehead. Then my nose. Then my lips again—quick and sweet. "Same time tomorrow?" he asked. "More practice?"
"You just want an excuse to kiss me in an empty gymnasium."
"Absolutely." He grinned. Unrepentant. "But also you really are getting better at the dancing. By prom you'll be making everyone else look bad."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress my smile. "Tomorrow."
When he finally released me I immediately missed the warmth of his hand against my back. The security of his arms.
We gathered our things and locked up. When Ethan walked me to his truck he kept his arm around my waist. Fingers occasionally slipped beneath the hem of my jacket to rest against my hip. Casual intimacy that should have felt presumptuous but instead felt right.
We got in and he started the engine. Pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward my neighborhood.
I watched the familiar streets pass. Watched him navigate the route he'd memorized over the past few weeks. The same turns, the same shortcuts. Taking me home like he always did.
And suddenly I didn't want to go home.
The feeling hit me with unexpected force. A tightness in my chest that had nothing to do with anxiety and everything to do with—what? Not wanting to be alone? Not wanting this day to end? Not wanting to let go of the warmth still lingering on my skin where his hand had been?
We weren't even close to my building yet. Still had at least ten minutes of driving. But already I could feel the loss of him like a physical thing. Like something was being pulled away before I was ready to release it.
Is this what it feels like? Liking someone? This irrational reluctance to separate even when you know you'll see each other tomorrow? This feeling like every moment together isn't quite enough?
The thought caught me off guard. So this was what people meant when they talked about wanting to be around someone. About missing them before they were even gone.
I didn't know. Didn't have any reference point for what this was supposed to feel like when it wasn't twisted up with fear and obligation and survival.
But sitting here watching Ethan drive, watching his hands on the wheel and the concentration on his face and the easy comfort of his presence beside me—I knew I didn't want to leave it yet.
"Can we—" I started, then stopped. Cleared my throat. "I want to stay with you a little longer. If that's okay."
Ethan glanced over at me. His expression shifted into something warm and pleased. "Yeah? Of course that's okay." He paused at a red light. "You want me to come up to your place for a bit? Or—my house isn't far. My dad's been traveling all month for work, and my mom just left for her night shift at the hospital. Probably left like twenty minutes ago."
My place meant my mother asking questions I didn't want to answer. Meant the small apartment with its thin walls and the constant reminder of everything I was trying to escape.
His place meant privacy. Meant space that wasn't contaminated by my history.
"Yours," I said. "If that's really okay."
"More than okay." Ethan's hand found mine across the console. Squeezed gently. "I was hoping you'd want to."
He made a U-turn at the next intersection, heading away from my neighborhood and toward the nicer part of town where he lived.