A doubtful hum emerges from my throat because I am wholly incapable of processing any emotion without a hefty dose of sarcasm. Luckily, Ethan seems to know this about me. So, whenI cross my arms and cock an eyebrow at him, he simply looks amused. “Better than a cat? Are you sure about that?”
“Of course. Cats get fur everywhere, and they certainly can’t afford to spoil you with extravagant gift cards like I can.”
“Fair point,” I concede.
It takes a considerable amount of effort to stop myself from pulling out my phone and seeing what time the bookstore opens. Admittedly, I’ve been a little bummed that I’ll be forgoing my annual amusement park trip for the first time in two decades, but blowing a thousand dollars on books will probably help me get over it.
Ethan takes a sip from the steaming coffee cup in his hand. Dark roast with a splash of milk, I assume. Even if I’m not responsible for fetching Ethan’s coffee, I’ve walked to the corner café with him enough times to have his order memorized.
The only thing that’s new is the way I can’t seem to look away from his lips as the plastic lid presses against them. Or his tongue when it darts out ever so slightly to lick the seam of his mouth afterwards. Or his long fingers wrapped around the paper cup, prompting me to wonder what they might look like wrapped around my thighs.
I audibly gulp then choke on my own saliva.
While I’m sputtering, coughing, and turning red out of embarrassment more than asphyxiation, Ethan slaps me on the back and chuckles gently. “You okay there?”
“Yep,” I rasp.
“Are you going to go get dressed or would you prefer to stand here and stare at me all day? Personally, I’m good either way,” he says, flashing a charming smile.
Wonderful. He noticed that I’m staring.
“I wasn’t… I mean, you have something on your face,” I stammer.
Before I can think better of it, I’m taking a step forward, licking my finger, and rubbing saliva all over Ethan’s perfectly clean cheek. I don’t know why. All I know is that I can’t stop now. I’m like a monkey at the zoo, relentlessly grooming my companion monkey while he scrambles to escape. Given that I just woke up and didn’t have a chance to brush my teeth yet, my breath is probably also similar to that of a monkey at the zoo.
If Ethan is anything but amused by this strange display, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he simply smirks and says, “Margot, go get dressed.”
For the first time since he arrived, Ethan’s eyes dip lower than my face. Suddenly, I’m painfully aware that I am not only smearing my questionable morning breath saliva on my boss’s perfectly carved cheek, but I’m also grazing his chest with my very erect nipples, which are barely contained by a thin layer of fabric.
I take a step backwards, regretting everything.
“What am I getting dressed for?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“For Summit Springs.”
“Wait. Seriously? You’re coming with me?!?”
I bounce slightly on my heels, a huge mistake for someone wearing a flimsy spaghetti strap pajama top. It draws Ethan’s attention back to my chest and earns the quietest of groans from deep in his throat.
“Yes, but Margot… I really need you to go put on a bra now.”
Ethan says it like he’s teasing, but the heat in his eyes and tight set of his jaw tell another story. I should feel embarrassed by his request, but instead I feel a tiny thrill rush through my veins. Because for the first time, it’s clear that I’m not the only one trying to work out some confusing feelings after that kiss.
18
Ethan
“Do you want to start with the log ride or the rollercoaster?” Margot asks, beaming a wide smile up at me.
I haven't seen her look this excited about anything ever.
Well, maybe about one thing. But I can't let myself think about that kiss. Especially not with Margot standing right in front of me, looking at me like I just made her whole damn year by tagging along to this amusement park.
I glance up at the signpost over her head. One arrow points towards Pikes Peak Plunge—presumably the log ride, judging by the sound of rushing water coming from that direction. If the screams are any indication, it’s a big drop. Another arrow points to the Summit Screamer, which also seems to be aptly named.
“Some people black out for a second or two on the rollercoaster.” She adds this tidbit of information as if she is a used car salesman pitching a bonus feature, like heated seats or a moon roof.
Scrubbing my hand over the stubble on my jaw, I weigh my options. “Um, maybe we could start with some games.”