7 | quondam
that once was; former
Ethan texts me his address, not knowing that I already know where he lives, and orders me to come at six. At five forty-five, I drive to the pistachio-green house with the wide window and stand there, palms sweating. I'd gone to buy a bottle of wine earlier today, and thrown on a cheap bow as a gift. Now, though, I realized that I had no idea if Ethan or his father even liked wine. Oh, well. It was the thought that counted, right?
I ring the doorbell. Ethan opens it, a soft smile on his face. My heartbeat slows down and I instantly feel more at ease near him. It was a stark contrast to my first time seeing him, where I'd felt my heart was going to burst out of my chest. Maybe it was because I was more familiar with him now, like one gets used to taking a certain drug. "Hi," I say, smiling back.
"Hi," he says back, letting me in. I present him the wine. If he doesn't like wine, he does a good job of not showing it, which I appreciate. He leads me to the living room, where a familiar figure is sitting.
I didn't remember how Ethan's father looked, but now that I see him, he's unmistakeable. I never saw much of him back when he was in La Push, but he always had a distinct regalness about him that was unforgettable. Even now, he's dressed up in a dark gray suit and a black shirt. His chin is held high and his thinning hair is combed back neatly on his head. His contrast to Ethan, who is sporting a t-shirt and jeans with adorably messy hair, is almost laughable. "This is Leah," Ethan says to him. "Sue Clearwater's daughter, remember?"
Ethan's father's dark eyes turn to me. For one second, something in his gaze makes me think that he knows my secret, about the shapeshifters. "Leah," he says. "You've certainly changed." I want to shrink back under his gaze.
I fidget a bit with my sleeve. "Have I?" I mutter in reply, my thoughts elsewhere.
"Yes," he says. "You used to look like your mother."
I purse my lips apprehensively.
Ethan is oblivious to our exchange. After all, he's just a human, unaware of the world of magic that surrounded him. I almost ached for that kind of obliviousness. But then again, without shifting, I would have never met Ethan again.
Would I have still held a level of attraction for him if I had met him and I hadn't ever shifted? I don't know. I like to think I would have, but there's no way I could guarantee that.
We sit down at the large wooden dining table. Ethan has really outdone himself. A variety of dishes are scattered on the tabletop. A couple I recognize, the others are completely unfamiliar. "I thought you were kidding when you said you could cook," I tell him.
He rolls his eyes. "Kidding? I'm the best damn chef you'll ever meet."
"I'll be the judge of that," I tease.
We sit down. I take a little bit of everything. Just as I'm about to take a bite, the doorbell rings. A glance at Ethan's face tells me he wasn't expecting anyone. Still, he stands to open the door.
A very...interesting looking girl steps through the doorway. She's short and slim, with pale skin and narrowed eyes. But that's not what stands out most. Her hair is eye-catching, to say the least—choppily cut and dyed an electric blue, save for the bangs, which are a bubblegum pink.
"So, I was going through some of my stuff and…" she rambles as she starts to walk inside like it's her own house. She suddenly stops as her eyes land on me. Her eyes, a soft brown, widen slightly. "Who's this?" she blurts, then blushes as she realizes her rudeness. "Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt."
"It's fine," says Ethan calmly. His eyes flick from me to her, as if he's not sure what to do. Ethan's father is solemn besides me. I don't think he's even noticed her presence.
The girl clears her throat at the awkwardness. "I'll...just come back later, yeah?" She shuffles back outside.
Ethan closes the door behind her and sits back down, strangely stiff. "Everything okay?" I ask gently.
"Yeah, yeah, everything's great." He smiles a plastic smile. Maybe it's just the imprint, but I know it isn't alright.
"If you say so," I mutter nonetheless. I'd be keeping an eye on him, though.
We begin to eat. There's a stuffy sort of silence. Mr. Rivers is studying me with hard eyes throughout the meal. It makes me uncomfortable, to say the least. I wish he wasn't here.
I catch Ethan alone in the kitchen as I'm putting my dish away. "Do you want to take a walk or something?" I breathe. I really, really don't want to have to face Mr. Rivers again this evening. He looks like he's about to say no, but something in my face convinces him otherwise.
We head outside into the cool night air. I almost sigh with pleasure as it hits my skin—it was getting too hot inside. Ethan watches me carefully, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "What?" I ask lightheartedly, trying to get him to smile.
He does smile, but it's not the same. "Nothing."
I step towards him without really meaning to. "Ethan?"
"Hmm?"
"Who was that girl?"
His lips purse. "That," he says, "was Sophie."
At first I think I've misheard him. "Sophie? As in, your girlfriend Sophie?"
His lips turn into a frown. "Not anymore." He's clearly more upset than he's letting on. I'm fairly sure she was the one that broke up with him. And as much as I want to be happy he's not with her anymore, I feel a spark of anger. How could she hurt my Ethan like this?
"What happened?" I ask gently.
He clears his throat. "It's nothing. Let's keep going." He turns away.
My shoulders sink and I'm strangely crushed. Of course, I shouldn't expect him to spill everything—I still don't know him too well, despite the connection I have towards him. Yet, it stings that he doesn't want to open up to me.
I walk alongside him in silence. I'm still frustrated that he won't say anything. "You know how Sam and I broke up?" I find myself asking him.
"Yeah, I think you told me."
"I never told you why."
He arches an eyebrow. "Is this the part where you tell me you're actually a serial killer?" he jokes.
I roll my eyes. The only "people" I've killed are vampires, and they're hardly human enough to count anyway. "Hardly." I clear my throat. "He...ah...left me for my best friend."
His eyes widen. "Are you serious? You guys were so...perfect together." The way he turns away makes me think he was going to say something else, but I brush it off.
"Love's a fickle thing, I suppose. You think you love someone, but then you meet someone else and...everything else becomes history." I bite my lip. I didn't mean to spill so much.
I feel his fingertips brush against my arm, sending sparks down my spine. "I'm sorry," he says.
"There's nothing to be sorry about. I guess we just weren't meant for each other."
"Still, that's a pretty crappy thing to do."
"I don't blame him anymore. There are some things that can't be helped. He never meant to hurt me." I realize the truth in my words as I say them aloud for the first time. Up until very recently, I'd hated Sam for breaking my heart. It was always his fault; he was the bad guy. Really, though, he wasn't. I know he didn't choose to fall in love with Emily; it just happened. I understand that now.
He sighs. "You're right," Ethan murmurs. He takes a breath. "You know, Leah? I just feel like...I don't know. I feel like we're, like, meant for each other, y'know? Not even in a romantic way, just as friends. Like you came here and we were meant to meet." He shakes his head. "Is that weird?"
I'm surprised at his words. I knew the wolf who imprinted felt like that towards the imprint, but I didn't know it went both ways. "Not at all," I murmur. "I feel the same way." If only he knew.
He nudges me with his shoulder playfully, and I nudge him back. We go on for a while, just chatting and walking into the cool night.
What Ethan needed right now was a friend, and that's what I would be for him. Nothing more.
