- 17.
A few days later, Josh sent me a video of Ethan, sprawled on the floor of a club, clutching a bottle and slurring my name. Summer stood
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beside him, biting her lip, eyes brimming with
tears. Two messages followed the video:
“Olivia, when are you coming back? Ethan’s
drunk and keeps asking for you.” “He’s making
a scene at Cloud Nine. We can’t control him.”
Cloud Nine was the “usual spot,” Ethan’s
family’s upscale club. Ethan rarely drank, but
whenever he did, I was the only one who could
get him to leave quietly. I was surprised he even
recognized me when he was drunk. I’d once
asked him if he was ever worried about
mistaking someone else for me. He’d just
laughed and said, “Never. You’re the one and
only Olivia.” It was these small gestures that
fueled my twelve–year crush. Hope keeps you
going, doesn’t it? I replied, “Don’t tell me about
him anymore.” Josh called immediately. I
answered, knowing he wasn’t to blame. “Hey,
Olivia. Ethan’s been really struggling…”
Shouting erupted in the background: “Ethan,
stop! Don’t grab my phone!” Then Ethan’s
voice filled my ear. “Liv? When are you coming
to get me?” “I was in the hospital the other day,
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44
and you didn’t even visit! I haven’t seen you in
so long.” His voice grew softer, almost a
whimper. “Liv… I miss you…” I hung up without
a word.
