I get home and walk into my living room, dropping my bag, keys and phone on the couch. I can’t believe what I just fucking saw. I know I’m not official...with either one of them, but part of me feels betrayed. I wouldn’t have given a shit if Eugene told me he wanted to see Taniyah, but he deliberately tried to keep it from me since the moment they were sitting on my own fucking couch. She could have said something, too. Perhaps I’m overreacting, but damn, they could have at least told me out of respect. I’m friends with both of them. I’m hurt that they felt the need to conceal their interest in each other from me. I thought things were going well with Eugene and I.
Maybe the way we started should have been the first hint at a bad sign. We fucked before we even went on a date. Right after our first date, we basically had group sex with two of our other friends. But through all of that, I was still trying to do the right thing. I kept my eyes on him. I wanted to prove to myself I could be a logical thinking person again. Even with my non-stop thoughts of Ethan all week, I thought I was doing well, and here we are.
I take a deep breath and sit in my chair. It’s clear Eugene and Taniyah have a strong connection. They shouldn’t be punished for that. After thinking it over, I know I still want to be a strong person. The better person. I could forgive them for the sort-of betrayal. After all, none of us were exclusive. I would forgive them, and give them my blessing. I’m certainly not going to go run off and tell them this right away. I decide when I see them again, I will make it clear there are no hard feelings. I feel satisfied with my desire to keep things mature, and suddenly...I also feel very sad.
An odd pitch of loneliness strikes inside my body, turning my stomach to mush, and I slouch into the chair. A second later, a low tap on my door makes me nearly jump out of my skin. My heart starts pounding as I stand up, while I pray to God it’s not Eugene or Taniyah. Or worse; both. I may be ok with the situation, but I’d really rather not confront it now. I walk slowly to my front door and look through the peep hole. I see someones dark head of hair as they look at the ground a few feet back and I knit my eyebrows together in confusion.
I open the door and Ethan’s head snaps up. “Ethan,” I say his name in recognition. My already pounding heart starts another hammering rhythm at the sight of him. Gloriously beautiful as ever, yet worried why he’s here. In the short second before he answers, his expression surprises me.
“Chanel,” he replies. His face is torn into a mask of frustration, and guilt...and reluctance? “I’m sorry to bother you so late,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“It’s fine. Is everything ok?” I ask concerned. He opens his mouth slightly and tries to find words.
“Not exactly,” he finally replies, and now I’m getting worried. Before I can ask another question, he speaks again. “Chanel, I need to apologize to you. For... everything . I thought we could be friends. Everything seemed ok when I helped you move, and it felt like the animosity between us was gone, for which I’m grateful, but…” He stops again as I watch him, curious and surprised. He takes his right hand out of his pocket and scratches his forehead in what appears to be a nervous gesture. He seems...embarrassed.
“I miss you,” he blurts out, dropping his hand, and I notice a faint blush behind his cheeks. “I feel sick to my stomach every time I think about what I put you through. At first I didn’t think much of it, you know, what we were doing. And then Nicole caught us and...I realized it was all my fault. All of it. The cheating and fighting and, just, drama." I open my mouth to object, but he keeps going.
“And then what happened after she left, I can’t stop feeling….nauseous every time it crosses my mind. I acted so horribly, and I have no idea why. You mean much more to me than the way I treated you. Maybe it was the stress of everything..I don’t know. What I’m getting at though, is...I can’t stop thinking about you Chanel. I feel terrible for the way things went. I just...need you to know that.” He sighs after his jumbled rant is over, and I’m frozen. I can feel the shock on my face. I realize he’s waiting for me to say something, but I was not prepared for him to show up, let alone the words he’s speaking.
From the center point inside my body, I feel like strings are being tugged, pulled in his direction. Drawing me to him. His words course through my body, melting my rigid form and I reach for him. Because I missed him, too. As soon as he sees me move, he wraps his arms around my waist and hugs me fiercely.
My feet are inches above the ground, my arms wrapped around his neck as he sways my body side to side as if to intensify his embrace. I let out a strangled gasp, or sob, I’m not entirely sure. Being in his arms after these hellacious couple of weeks makes me want to sing, or cry, or both. I’m not too sure at the moment. I just know I’m glad he’s here.
“Ethan,” I whisper his name, and his arms get impossibly tighter around me.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into my hair, slightly shaking his head.
"Me too,” I reply. “You have no idea how bad I’ve felt-”
“Sshhh,” he hushes me. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, and I almost do cry. He has no idea how shitty I felt after that all went down. He was growing on me, and I felt like I ruined everything. That situation was just fucked up all around, and all I want him to do is hug me until it all goes away.
After we stand outside my open door for what feels like forever, I whisper, “let's go inside.” He makes no move to let me down and walks through the threshold. He kicks the door shut, and keeps his hold on me, not moving an inch. God, I have missed him. The feel of his large body beneath my hands. His warmth like a blanket, and he smells so good. I run my fingers through his hair and he buries his face in my neck.
When he pulls his head back, I lean as well to look in his eyes. Deep green and warm, just as I remembered. We look at each other, my hands holding his head, and it feels like something is blooming. The atmosphere, the feeling inside myself, growing with a thick, sensitive emotion. When my eyes flash to his lips and back to his eyes, his expression almost looks pained.
“Oh Chanel,” he whispers, and kisses me, and I let him. He’s gentle, more gentle than he’s ever been with me. His warm, soft lips graze against my own in the sweetest way. I hold his face close to mine and reciprocate, my top lip between his, then my bottom. Ethan opens his mouth and closes it along my own action. Pressing and pulling, he puts more feeling into this one kiss than any other encounter we’ve ever had. When I push away from him, he sets me on my feet and goes to pull his face away. But I keep my hold on him. My fingers in his hair, I continue kissing him and he doesn’t object.
When I start walking backwards, he realizes this and moves with me. I blindly guide us to my bedroom and release him, only to start unzipping my jacket. He does the same, our lips staying fused together. Ethan puts his large hands on my hips, his index fingers and thumbs touching the skin above my jeans, under my shirt. I hold his shoulders and our lips linger against each other. I can’t believe he’s really here. Part of me felt like this would be lost forever. I wanted to give him and myself space to figure out what the fuck we wanted. What was right. And in not so many words, he’s telling me what he’s chosen; me.
With measured movements, Ethan guides me backward until I feel my bed behind my knees. His hands make their way farther up my shirt until he’s grabbing my impossibly small waist in his iron grip. He lifts me and lays me on the mattress, coming down with me. His body is pressed against every line of my own, my legs bent, thighs resting along his sides. We break our lip lock, our faces still an inch from each other, and nothing needs to be said. The way he’s looking at me sends something stronger than butterflies racketing around my stomach.
He gives me a wet, chaste kiss and goes lower, placing his lips at the base of my jaw. When his shirt makes it half way up his back, I know I don’t want to stop. I pull it the rest of the way and he slips his head through and I toss the fabric. He looks down at me and gives me a heartbreakingly beautiful smile. The first time I’ve seen him smile tonight. I beam up at him and he rolls us over, me now straddling his lap, and he sits up to meet my face. Ethan lazily tugs the hem of my shirt up my torso, his fingertips teasing my sensitive skin as he goes. He manages to slip the cotton over my head and I wrap my arms around his neck.