Halfway through the party, the door opened.
Most people turned to look, so my own
movement wasn’t noticeable. Ethan walked in,
wearing a black t–shirt and jeans. He looked
exactly the same as the last time I saw him.
Just as handsome. “Ethan, over here!” a guy
at the next table called, raising his hand.
Ethan’s eyes followed the voice. I wasn’t sure
if he was looking at me, but I froze. He
walked towards the table. Just when I thought
he’d sit at the next table, he sat down in the
<
empty seat beside me. The room went silent
for a moment. I stared at him. He raised an
eyebrow. “Don’t you recognize me?” “No,” I
shook my head, then corrected myself. “I
mean, yes.” “Wait, you two know each other?”
Sarah asked, grinning. Ethan ignored her,
looking at me. “Do we know each other?” he
asked. I hesitated. “Yes,” I said. “That was a
hesitant yes,” he drawled, a playful glint in his
eyes. “It wasn’t,” I said quickly. Ethan
chuckled, picking up a can of beer. He flipped
the tab open with his middle finger, took a
swig, then set it down, his eyes briefly
meeting mine. I froze, caught off guard. My
expression, unguarded, was probably giving
me away, amplified by the beer I’d just had.
Ethan raised an eyebrow, as if questioning
<
- me. Flustered, I tried to act casual. “Is the
beer good?” I asked. “It’s alright,” he paused.
“Haven’t you had beer before?” “No,” I shook
my head, picking up my own beer and
mimicking his way of opening it. I took a sip
and cringed. It was bitter. Ethan leaned back
in his chair, listening to the conversation
around us. Then, as if he had eyes in the back
of his head, he turned to me. “If you don’t like
it, don’t drink it.” “I like it,” I insisted. I wasn’t
about to back down. If other people could
handle it, so could I. If they liked it, I could
pretend to like it. He just shrugged and
turned back to the conversation.
After one beer, I felt a little lightheaded. I
rested my elbows on the table, my head in my
hands. Everyone was finishing up their food
く
and chatting. The noise was overwhelming,
my head spinning, but it didn’t stop me from
watching Ethan. The black t–shirt made his
skin look even paler, his neck long and
elegant. They say love is blind to me, even
the back of his head was beautiful. As I was
lost in thought, Ethan turned around again, as
if sensing my gaze. I still hadn’t recovered my
composure. The beer had loosened my
inhibitions, and my feelings were written all
over my face. Ethan looked at me, his
expression flickering with amusement. Then
the amusement faded, replaced by something
else. I think he knew. But it didn’t matter.
We’d probably never interact again after this.
Just as I’d thought, I didn’t see Ethan again after that. Occasionally, I’d see posts about
く
him on the university’s confession page. After
a week of classes, it was Thanksgiving break.
I found a part–time job at a bubble tea shop
near campus. The night before break started,
Mom called. “Honey, what time is your train?
I’ll pick you up. Your sister is home for break
too. I’ll make a nice dinner.” “I’m not coming
home,” I said casually. Silence. Then, “Are you
still mad?” Mom asked. “No.” “Then why
aren’t you coming home?” “I have a job,” I
said. “Do you need money?” Mom asked.
“No,” I said, making up an excuse. “I have to
go now.” After I finished reviewing my notes, I
checked my phone. Ten missed calls, twenty
unread messages. The calls were from Mom
and Dad. Except for two messages from my
roommate reminding me to close the windows
<
because it might rain, all the other messages
were from Mom.
Mom: Why aren’t you coming home? Don’t
use your job as an excuse.
Mom: Your dad is very angry. He thinks
you’ve gotten arrogant since you became the
