That tequila bottle is half empty but I pour myself another shot. I know I made a deal with my mother to give up tequila but that was before Ethan appeared. I'm attempting to drown out Ethan from my head but failing miserably. After I rushed off from our picnic, I stopped at the liquor store before picking up my mother. I decided on the drive from there to the hospital that it would be a night for forgetting. Even if it meant I drank the entire bottle.

I hated being around Ethan.

I hated that I still loved him as though a day had never passed.

But most of all I hated every single feeling I still had for him deep inside of me.

After dinner, my mother excused herself to her room, and I made my way to the tequila bottle I had stashed inside my purse. Sitting in the living room, I stare at the blank screen on the television, a shot glass in one hand and the bottle in the other as I contemplate my life. I'm tired of running. But it's what I do best.

My mind spins. One moment I'm considering how much I love Ethan, and the next I'm imagining him and Erica. My blood boils with anger. I feel like that Katy Perry song. I'm hot and I'm cold . . .

I'm a freaking mess, that’s one thing I know for sure.

I should get some rest since tomorrow will be packed with meetings with potential new clients for the grand re-opening. But instead of going to bed, I pull out my phone and open Facebook. I'm not usually on social media. I actually find it repulsive.

That's a lie.

I avoid it so I don't become a stage five clinger and stalk people. When I first moved to Los Angeles, I spent hours on Facebook waiting to see if Ethan popped up. The app became so addictive I blocked everyone from Prescott and changed my contact name so no one would find me. After a few years, I stalked Harry, my ex-boyfriend, until I drove myself mad. It’s toxic, yet I refuse to deactivate my account.

Unable to control myself, I unblock all the friends from Prescott, and enter Ethan's name in the search bar. His profile appears, and like countless times before, nothing has changed. An old picture and no updates on his life or places he has checked into. Feeling like a daredevil, I take a swig straight from the bottle and click through the pictures he’s been tagged in. My stomach turns.

It's pictures of him after I left. His life when I was gone. He looks serious in some, standing behind the bar as some guy takes a picture. In a crowd as someone takes a group shot. There are also plenty of him with Erica. She must love tagging her boyfriend all over social media.

I grind my teeth and click on the next photo. I can't help but scrutinize the last picture longer than most. It was taken two years after I left, and thanks to Facebook I even know the date and time it was uploaded. It’s a picture of Ethan and Stephanie.

Stephanie was my friend who transferred to our school the summer of my junior year. She was in my dance class at school, and was also a regular victim of my mother in the studio. Aside from Ethan, she was the only person I considered a friend.

My drunken eyes study the picture. “Stephanie and Ethan,” I slur to the computer screen. They’re sitting rather close to each other. She's leaning into him and her silky blonde hair rests on his shoulder. They are both smiling into the camera and a part of me feels jealous.

Was she my replacement once I was gone?

Like me, she had planned on a dancing career for herself. She was supposed to go to Miami after high school, not stay here and take pictures with my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend, I remind myself.

“Grr,” I growl at the computer screen like a dog. This is why I hate social media. A simple picture has made the green-eyed monster that lives inside me rear its ugly head.

My fingers race over the keyboard on my computer and I can’t stop them. So I give in to the jealousy and send Stephanie a Facebook message.

Me: Hey stranger, how's life?

The second I hit the send button, I don’t blink waiting for her to respond. It’s a disease, really; I’m wasting precious time over a picture that is six years old.

Three little dots appear immediately and I can only assume she has a notification setting on her cell phone. 

Stephanie: OMG!!!!! Leslie! How are you?

Me: I'm good. Back in town. Temporarily, of course. My dad had a heart attack so I'm helping out my mom.

Stephanie: Oh no! I heard about your dad, I'm sorry. How does it feel to be back?

Me: You heard about my dad? 

Stephanie: Yeah, you know how this town is. It lives for gossip.

Me: I didn't know you were in town. What happened to Miami?

Stephanie: It's a long story. Maybe we can meet and catch up? 

I blame the alcohol for my need to know everything. I blame the jealousy that courses through my veins like blood.

Me: I'm free tonight if you want to grab some coffee. 

Stephanie: Sure, that works. Do you want to meet at Beans in thirty?

Me: Perfect, I'll see you then.

We exchange numbers before saying good-bye. I run into the bathroom to shower off some of the drunkenness. Ten minutes later I'm dressed and out the door. I take the keys off the hook near the door, but walk past the car. Due to the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed, it's best to walk into town rather than drive. 

The mile and a half hike sobers me a bit more, and when I see Stephanie all chipper and beautiful I pray that my pores aren't oozing with tequila. She’s sitting at one of the tables outside of Beans. Her hands are laced around a large paper cup and when our eyes meet a genuine smile grows on her flawless face. 

“Hi!” She stands and rushes over to me. Her tiny hands embrace me, and I’m greeted with her lavender scented lotion. “Oh, my God, look at you!” She says when she lets go. “You’re still smoking hot!”

I shake my head and laugh. “Shut up! You know I can never compete with that gorgeous hair of yours.”

“Please. Blonde is boring and flat. Your untamable long, black hair is sexy. I seriously can't believe you're back in town.” She hugs me once again. “I'm so happy to see you. Come on, we need to catch up.”

After I order the largest Americano on the menu, I sit outside with Stephanie.

“So.” Her eyes are wide and she is swaying from side to side. “How's life? You live in LA now, right?”

“Life is good, I guess.” I blow on my hot coffee. “I moved out of LA a few years ago. I had a job opportunity in Chicago, so I took it.” I take a sip of my coffee and realize my life is pretty boring. I’m at the stage where my friends are getting engaged, getting married, having kids, travelling the world. I go to work. I hang out with my coworkers, and on occasion I let said coworkers set me up on blind dates because they feel I'm wasting my beauty.

“How are you?” I ask, quickly changing the subject. “I'm surprised to see you here. We had plans to get out of this town.”

“I know.” Stephanie sighs. “Miami didn't happen.” She pouts.

“Why not?” I try to tone down the eagerness in my voice.

“I realized that summer it wasn’t for me. I was getting ready to ship everything to Florida and it hit me. I loved to dance, but I didn’t want to do it professionally, not like you.” She shakes her head. “Yeah, I was a good dancer and it was fun, and I loved to compete, but it wasn't my passion.” She lifts her hands. “I hate the humidity. I'm petrified of hurricanes. And I just didn't feel right. So instead, I went to Arizona State.”

“Oh, wow,” I say but in the back of my mind all I want to do is ask her about the picture with Ethan.

“Yeah, I was close to my parents and it was such an easy drive to come home when ever I wanted. And after the whole thing with Jerry, the town got so much better.” She crinkles her nose at the mention of Jerry.  I pull my gaze away from hers and glance down at my coffee cup. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring him up. I should've known better.”

I shake my head. “It's okay, really. It was such a long time ago it doesn't bother me anymore,” I lie. 

“So, were there any hot guys in Los Angeles?” She winks at me, and we both know she is desperately trying to change the subject.

“There was one, but it didn't work out. I was too focused on my career.” 

“Or maybe you were still holding on to what you left here.”

“I didn't leave him here. He never came after me.” Stephanie's lips purse and I want to ask her what it means, but her phone vibrates and she glances down at the screen.

“Crap, hold on,” she says, bringing the phone to her ear. “Hi, honey.” She smiles at me and I can hear a man’s voice on the other end of the line. “I'm having coffee with Leslie . . . She was my first friend here and then she went to school in Los Angeles. This is the first time she's back. How’s Seattle? . . . Oh, no! . . . Okay, well, can I call you when I get home? . . . All right. I love you! Bye, honey." She places the phone on the table and smiles up at me. “Sorry; the hubby.” She raises both eyebrows with excitement. 

“You're married!” I can't hide the excitement in my voice.

“Yeah, we eloped last year in Hawaii. His name is Bruce, and we met my last year at Arizona State. I had an internship with his firm. He travels a lot for business, which was why I chose to move back home so at least I can be close to my family. It's hard when he's gone for long periods of time, but I don't work anymore so when I miss him, I just get on a plane and go see him.”  Her eyes sparkle as she talks about him.

“I'm really happy for you,” I say with every ounce of genuine enthusiasm I have inside of me. 

“Thanks.” She takes the tip of her coffee. “I'm sorry we lost touch.” 

“I think that was more my fault than yours. I was locked away in that hospital for so long, and the second I had a chance to escape, I ran and chose to never look back. I didn't want any reminders of the life I had.” I chuckle. “Hell, I never spoke to my mother.”

“Well, she didn't take it very well. I don't think anyone did; definitely not Ethan.”

“I didn't know you guys were close?” I ask because it's festering inside me and the ugly green monster has won. 

Stephanie glances at me before looking down at her coffee. “We weren't at first. But when you left, we became friends.” I can't help but furrow my eyebrows at her. “It's not what you think.” She raises her hands to reassure me. “He needed a friend. I think for a long time he was just trying to replace you. He was looking for the next best thing. And I think at one point, he thought it was me. He even tried to kiss me once. He was drunk, of course, and I slapped him upside the head. He missed you a lot and constantly talked about you. Still does, you know."

“I saw him today. I accidentally walked into his pub and was greeted by Erica and Michael.”

“Ugh.” Stephanie rolls her eyes dramatically. “I still hate that girl.” Stephanie crosses her arms. “She’s like a damn gnat that won’t die!”

“Apparently, Ethan doesn't.”

“I think he takes pity on her. Her dad reminds him of Jerry.” 

“And she keeps his bed warm,” I add, letting her know that I know about them.

“I think she only does when he's desperate and drunk.” She tries to ease the blow. 

“What he does with his life is not my concern,” I say, trying to convince myself. “He doesn't owe me anything.” 

“So you ran into him . . .”

“Yeah,” I continue. “Michael and Erica were giving me a hard time. Michael was making these threats about me not being welcomed, and Ethan broke it up. I ran out, and when I got home he was there waiting for me with food.” Stephanie sighs and I see the puppy eyes growing on her face. “We had lunch, and then I just lost it.”

“Why?” 

“It's been a long time, and I have so much anger and pain built up because of him. And when he's around he makes me feel things again, and I’ve worked very hard to forget these feelings.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to fight everything. Maybe your feelings are meant to be. The history between you two goes back almost twenty years."

“Whatever; enough about me and Ethan. Let’s talk about anything else.”

“How's your mother?” Stephanie asks with a smile.

“I drink almost a bottle of tequila a day because of her. I'm probably becoming an alcoholic, but whatever.” I laugh.

Stephanie giggles. “Girl, if I’d known you were that much of a lush, I would've invited you out for a cocktail, not coffee.”

“I'm always down for drinking when I'm around my mother.”

“Well, let's get going then. I know just the place.” 

“As long as it's not a place Ethan owns.”

“No, not at all.”

I chug the rest of my coffee and follow Stephanie to her car. We head down Main Street toward the end of town to a tiny little complex that I didn't even know existed. It faces out into the mountains with condos above the storefronts. Stephanie parks the car in front of Rosa's Wine Bar.

“This is new,” I say, closing the car door behind me.

“When Bruce and I got married, my parents wanted me to have a traditional wedding. Since we chose to elope, my father bought us a piece of land as our wedding present. I didn't want to build a giant house since I knew it would be empty a lot, so we invested and built condos. We rent out the storefronts, and my sister-in-law runs Rosa's Wine Bar." 

I nod, studying the sleek architecture. The building isn't massive, only a few floors up and the length of a city block. Inside, wine bottles are scattered throughout the room, and three rustic light fixtures hang from old beams in the ceiling. The atmosphere is laid-back with a few couples spread around the lounge area. 

Stephanie waves to a female standing behind the bar and then points to an empty table across the room. “This must be heaven,” I joke when we sit down. 

“I like to say it's my little piece of heaven.” A waiter walks over and greets us with a menu, but Stephanie declines. “Can you tell Rosa that we want the wine sampling for two.” She looks away from the waiter and then over at me. “Trust me, it's the best thing here.” 

“Sure, that works,” I agree.

Our waiter brings us two trays each carrying four different wineglasses. Each glass is filled with a little more then your regular sip. “This is the Merlot sampling,” he says, placing the trays in front of us. Another waiter behind him places a wooden block filled with assorted cheeses and various nuts. He explains which cheese is paired with each wine before heading to the back. 

When Stephanie said a sampling, I simply envisioned four glasses. I didn't realize we would be sampling the best of every variety of wine Rosa carried. I reach for my first glass and take a small sip. The wine is filled with a variety of aromas and I taste the wild black fruit in its undertone. "I think I found my new go-to location,” I say as I reach for the dried apricots that are hidden behind the Manchego.

“I'm here almost every weekend.” Stephanie raises her glass and we cheer to our little piece of heaven.

We start with the Shiraz, followed by the Cabernet, and Pinot Noir. Jason then returns with the rose wines. They're sweeter, and I have to admit that at this point they're all starting to taste the same. By the time we move on to the white wine, my buzz is in full effect. My cheeks are warm to the touch, and I have to hold back the urge to giggle. 

When Jason places the dessert wine in front of us, I push my tray forward. “I’m tapping out. I’m officially way too drunk,” I say and I know my words are slurring. “I need to get home. I have to be up tomorrow for the grand re-opening.” I press my palms to my eyes. 

“Oh no!” Stephanie protests. “Tomorrow is Saturday and it’s only ten-thirty. You can hang a little longer, can't you? Please?” I glance up at her and shake my head. “My condo is right upstairs. You can spend the night in the guest room. It'll be like old times and we’ll have slumber party where all we do is talk about boys. Well, I’ll talk about Bruce and you can talk about Ethan,” Stephanie rambles.

“If Darlene wakes up and I’m not home, she’ll hang my head over the mantel. You know how she is.” I take a sip of water that Jason has kindly put in front of me. “I should call a cab.” 

“Don't be silly!” Stephanie shakes her head and digs in her purse. “I invited you out, I will call you an Uber.” 

I thank Stephanie and excuse myself to use the restroom. Keeping one eye closed, I try to walk with grace toward the door with a big W on it. Inside, I splash my face with cold water but it does nothing to help.  The reflection in the mirror frightens me, and I run my fingers under my eyes, wiping away the mascara.

“I'm really freaking drunk,” I mutter.

I don't remember how I find my way back to Stephanie, but when I do she forces me to drink two glasses of water before leading me outside. “Come on, babe, your chariot awaits.” The fresh air cools my skin and I inhale it, hoping it helps. Stephanie holds the back door open for me and I climb into the back seat. I fall on the cool leather and I pray I do not pass out.

“You take care of my girl,” I hear her say to the driver.

He chuckles and I feel my body warm. That chuckle sounds so familiar. I attempt to pry an eye open to see who he is, but I'm only greeted with the black leather from the seat in front of me.

I moan, unable to lift myself up. “I'm going to feel like hell tomorrow,” I say and close my eyes. 

Sleep.

It’s the only thing my body craves.

I push off the seat and wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth. I blink a few times and wait for my vision to become clear. Confused, I stare outside and see that we are parked in my driveway. Glancing back at the driver, I suck in a quick gasp of air. 

"Goddamn it! Stephanie called you to take me home?” I wince when my head begins to pound.

Ethan flicks the car light on and looks back at me. "Did you have a nice nap, Freckles?" The boyish grin causes my head to spin but I choose to blame the alcohol. "I forgot how cute it is when you snore."

"One, I don't snore,” I say and cover my eyes. "Two, why are your lights out?" Surprisingly, I’m shocked that I’m no longer as intoxicated as I was at the bar. 

"I didn't want to wake anyone. Besides, I figured I’d let you sleep it off for a bit so you wouldn't wake your mother."

"How long have we been sitting here?" My throat is parched.

"An hour or so."

I glance at the clock in his car, which reads two in the morning. I try to remember what time I left Rosa’s and realize it’s a lot longer than an hour. Inhaling, I dig through my purse for my keys. "Thanks, Ethan. Stephanie tricked me into drinking."

"Anything for you." He kicks his car door open and reaches back for mine. “Come, I'll walk you to your door." He sticks out a hand for me. 

"Who said chivalry is dead?" I give him my hand. 

In one sweeping motion, Ethan has me out of the car and into his arms. The scent of him is intoxicating and I stumble to the side. “You're going to wake your mother if you can't walk straight.” He brings me closer and his low voice causes a shiver to run down my spine.

“The doctor prescribed her Ambien,” I whisper, avoiding his gaze. “She won't wake up.” I realize the proximity of his face. Testing my heart, I look up at him. Our eyes lock for only a few seconds, but a lifetime of love flows through us. I desperately want to rub my fingertips along the scruff coating his cheeks, but I force myself to take a step toward the house. 

Ethan and I stand at my front door, and with his help I'm able to stick my key into the lock and turn it. “Thank you for saving me tonight,” I say over my shoulder.

“I’d do anything for you. You know that.” 

“Back at ya.” Without any hesitation, I lean in and kiss his lips. It’s a quick kiss, one I have offered millions of times before. And though my body feels as if it's about to explode, I choose to ignore it and push the door open. 

“Good night, Les,” Ethan says and turns to walk toward his car.

I thought tequila was the liquor that made you do insane things, but clearly it is wine.

“Hey, Ethan?” I call back to him. He stops and looks over at me. “I miss you climbing through my window.”

He chuckles and I walk inside.

Tossing my belongings on the console table, I kick my shoes off and make my way up the stairs. My pants are tossed to the side by the time I reach my room and I’m swearing to never drink again.

I'm digging through my suitcase when I hear a tap on my window. I jump and look over at Ethan. His body is illuminated by the full moon, and I’m transferred back to ten years ago when I would wait patiently for these moments.

I push the window open and allow him in. “I thought you were heading home,” I whisper. His eyes are locked on my legs. “Crap.” I slap his shoulder. “Stop being such a dog. I didn't know you were coming up, and I was changing into my pajamas.”

“Hey, that's not my fault.” He slides his jacket off his shoulders. “As long as it's visible, I'm going to stare at it without any shame.” My face warms and I back away from him. 

“I thought you were going home?” I ask again.

“No, I only wanted to park my car around the corner. I don't want the neighbors talking to your mom.” Ethan’s voice is low and raspy. “Mrs. Greeley is still nosy.”

I slide my pajama pants on and turn away from him. Discarding my shirt, I slip my bra off and pull a T-shirt over my head. The entire time, his gaze heats my skin. My heart is racing a mile a minute, and I don’t know what to think. I don’t want him to leave, but I also don’t want to have any false hopes about something that ended so tragically.

When I'm ready for bed, I look back at him. It's my turn to gawk since he in standing shirtless with only his boxers on. The ache between my legs makes it impossible to speak. Instead, I walk over to my bed and draw the comforter back.

“I must be very, very drunk since I’m letting you stay the night.” I say as I climb into bed.

“You'll be fine. You're the only girl I know who can drink her heart out and never puke.” He slips in next to me.

I slap his bare chest and my hands land on his tattoo. The heat from his body radiates off his skin and I curl closer to him. “When did you get it?” I ask. I want to turn the light on and inspect every millimeter of his body; every muscle that has tripled in size from the last time I saw it. 

Ethan huffs and stretches his arms out so I can lay on his chest. I don’t argue. Even if it’s just for one night, I want to hit pause on everything that ever happened between us.

“A year after you left. When did you get yours?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know every freckle you have, every beauty mark. I spent many nights in this room studying your body. The room is dark, Leslie, but I'm not blind. And for whatever reason, you still have that nightlight plugged into the wall. I saw the shadow of it when you took off your bra.”

My heart is thumping in my chest. “A year after I left,” I say. 

Ethan shifts on the bed and brings me closer to him. My forehead rests against his cheek, and my hands traces the ink on his chest. “What did you get?” I ask, trying to envision what it is. 

“The same as yours.” He kisses the tip of my nose and a grin grows on my face.

“You don't know what I have.” My lips press on his.

“Of course I do.”

He kisses me back and I moan into his mouth. It’s familiar and painful at the same time. I spent many years forgetting what his lips felt like. I ran from the pain he caused.

It’s too much to bear.

Pulling away, I look into his eyes. “I’ve spent eight years trying to forget you,” I remind him. “I taught myself to hate you.” I lie.

He ignores me for another second and kisses me once more. This time our tongues meet and he presses his firm body against mine. I melt into him and he pulls away. “You want to hate me because you love me.” He pulls me closer to him. “Let’s pretend that, just for tonight, we’re still teenagers.” He kisses the top of my head and I sigh into the nook in his neck. 

“Tomorrow I go back to not speaking to you.”

“You're not a good liar, Leslie.” His voice is soothing.

“Shut up, Ethan.”

“I love you, too.”

We both know we have permanently inked ourselves with a Lotus flower.