4
I woke up in Ethan’s bed.
And the guy who’d thrown Sarah out was curled up on the small couch, asleep.
I touched my forehead. The fever was gone.
The room was quiet.
Ethan’s bed was comfortable. I was weak
from being sick. I stayed put, propped up on my elbow, watching him.
him
く
He was tall, and the small couch made him
look cramped.
He was restless in his sleep, brow furrowed,
long lashes fluttering.
I hadn’t pictured “spending the night” with Ethan after we broke up. Like this.
He opened his eyes.
He sat up, stretched, then raised an eyebrow
at me.
“Olivia, if you want to stare, just do it. No
need to be sneaky.”
L
I looked away. “Idiot.”
Probably no one else in the city would dare
call Ethan that to his face.
He blinked. Then muttered through gritted
teeth, “Spoiled.”
Yeah.
Spoiled by him.
That was me.
Ethan got off the couch and came over,
asking about the party, about Sarah and the
vitation
<
વાતા! વાાપાાદ
di
askinly about the party, avuul Sarai aru the
invitation.
I blinked. Too much to explain. Too tired to
talk.
Before I could come up with a good lie, his
bedroom door flew open.
Ethan’s mom stormed in, dragging a girl behind her. Her face was like granite, reminding me of our “negotiation” a month
ago.
Just as fierce as ever.
“Homewrecker!” she yelled, then marched
<
MUNOVICunti:
do you ou, con mAI UNCÚ
over and tried to slap me.
Missed.
Ethan caught her wrist, his face a mask of
anger.
Right. He got his temper from her.
He stood, towering over her, even in her heels. He didn’t pull any punches.
