Chapter 42
Emily's POV
We spent the next five hours at our usual table on the third floor. Ethan had brought his organic chemistry homework and finished it in under an hour. After that he just sat there, scrolling through his phone or reading random articles, occasionally getting up to refill our water bottles or stretch his legs.
I was halfway through an economics chapter when he spoke up.
"I've been looking at apartments."
I glanced up from my textbook. "What?"
"Near your campus. There's a couple places with reasonable rent, close enough that you could walk over whenever." He was trying to sound casual but I could hear the hope underneath. "I could sign a lease next week if you think it's a good idea."
My stomach tightened. "Ethan, we talked about this."
"I know, but—"
"You don't need to move here. You have the athletic dorm. Your whole life is at your campus—practice, games, your teammates."
"My whole life is wherever you are." His voice was firmer now, less tentative. "Your campus is only twenty minutes from mine. The commute isn't even an issue. If I had a place here we could actually spend time together. Real time, not just sitting in a library while you study."
I set down my pen, feeling the familiar tension creeping into my shoulders. "I don't have time for 'real time.' You know that. Between classes and work and trying to keep my GPA up—"
"That's exactly my point." He leaned forward, and there was something almost desperate in his expression now. "You're stretched so thin you can barely breathe. If I'm here, I can help. I can drive you to work so you don't have to walk at midnight. I can make sure you actually eat meals instead of living off vending machine snacks. I can—"
"I don't need you to take care of me."
"I know you don't need it, but why won't you let me want to?" His voice had risen slightly, and a couple students at nearby tables glanced over. He lowered it again but the intensity didn't fade. "It feels like you're getting further away. Like you're building this whole life and I'm just... watching from the sidelines. Waiting for whatever scraps of time you can spare."
The accusation stung more than it should have. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Emily, I love you. I want to be part of your life, not just someone you fit in between shifts and homework. And I don't understand why you keep pushing back every time I try to get closer."
"Because it's not practical." I could hear my voice getting sharper, defensive. "Because you moving here doesn't solve any of my actual problems. I'd still have the same schedule. The same responsibilities. Except now I'd feel guilty every time I had to choose work over spending time with you."
"So you'd rather keep me at a distance? Keep everything compartmentalized so you don't have to deal with—what, the inconvenience of someone caring about you?"
"That's not what I said."
"But it's what you mean." His jaw was tight now, and I could see him fighting to keep his composure. "You won't let me help. You won't let me get too close. Sometimes I feel like you're just... tolerating me. Like I'm another obligation on your list instead of someone you actually want around."
The words hit harder than I expected, and for a moment I couldn't respond. Because there was a grain of truth in them—not that I was tolerating him, but that I'd been so focused on maintaining control over every aspect of my life that I hadn't left room for someone to actually be part of it. Not really. Not in the messy, complicated way that real relationships required.
"Ethan." I reached across the table and took his hand, softening my voice. "You're not an obligation. You're not... I'm not trying to push you away. I just—" I struggled to find the right words. "Everything in my life has to be planned. Calculated. I can't afford to be spontaneous or careless because if I slip even a little, everything falls apart. It's not about not wanting you around. It's about being terrified that if I let myself depend on you, I'll lose the control that's keeping me afloat."
His expression shifted slightly, some of the anger draining away. "You wouldn't lose control. I'd be helping you keep it."
"But what if you weren't?" I squeezed his hand, trying to make him understand. "What if something happened and you couldn't be there? What if we broke up and suddenly I'd built my whole routine around having you close by and then—"
"We're not going to break up."
"You don't know that." The words tasted bitter in my mouth, and I hated myself for saying them.
"Yes, I do." His voice was quiet but absolutely certain. "Emily, I'm not going anywhere. I know you're scared. I know you've been hurt. But I'm not going to disappear or let you down or—"
"I know you're not." And I did know that, intellectually. But the fear was still there, coiled tight in my chest. "I just... I need you to understand that this is hard for me. Letting someone in. Trusting that it won't blow up."
He was quiet for a long moment, studying my face. Then he sighed and ran his thumb across my knuckles. "Okay. I hear you. But Em... it feels like you're getting further away anyway. Like you're so busy building walls to protect yourself that you're locking me out in the process. And I don't know how to fix that if you won't let me try."
I took a breath and chose my words carefully. "Ethan, this isn't a problem that needs solving. Some couples like being together constantly. Some couples are more independent. We're just... we're the independent type. That doesn't mean there's something wrong."
He stared at me for a long moment, and I could see him weighing whether to push back or let it go. Finally, he nodded slowly. "Yeah. Okay."
But his voice was flat, and the tension didn't leave his shoulders. He was agreeing to drop it, not because he believed me, but because he was accommodating me.
I felt a pang of guilt but pushed it aside. We'd need to have a real conversation about this eventually—about what he needed versus what I could give, about whether those two things could ever actually align. But not now. Not when I had three more chapters to read and a problem set due Monday morning.
"I really do need to finish this," I said, gesturing at my textbooks.
"I know." He settled back into his chair, pulling out his phone. "I'll just be here."
I went back to my economics chapter, but the words blurred slightly on the page. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a small voice whispered that I was making a mistake—that ignoring this wouldn't make it go away, that Ethan's patience had limits even if he was too kind to say so.
But I didn't have the energy to deal with it right now.
So I kept reading, and Ethan kept scrolling through his phone, and we sat there in the library pretending everything was fine.