Rachel

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ON SUNDAY MORNING, I rolled over in Ethan’s bed—feeling soreness in every single muscle. I couldn’t believe I’d slept with him after all these years. Couldn’t believe I desperately wanted to do it again.

As I forced myself to sit up, I spotted several empty condom wrappers on his floor.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...Oh my god...

I picked up my phone and saw that it was Sunday and we needed to board the bus in a little under two hours.

“Ethan?” I called out.

No answer.

“Ethan?”

Still no answer.

Shit.

I walked over to the fireplace and put on my costume and heels again. I grabbed one of the robes from his bathroom, and checked the hallway before rushing to my room.

When I made it, I immediately slipped into the shower—holding back groans as the hot water stung and revealed every one of my sore muscles.

With a little over an hour to go, I made sure I wasn’t leaving anything behind, and then I tried to rush toward the bus. It took me all of one minute to realize that I wasn’t going to be able to “rush” anywhere. My legs were too damn weak.

“Did you have a good weekend?” I asked Ryan, trying not to wince as I sat next to him.

“Really, though?” He rolled his eyes and stood up, moving to another seat.

My phone buzzed with a text from him.

Ryan: You fucking ghosted me after the first night and never came back...Saw you tiptoeing back to your room this morning, though. Go talk to whoever you’ve been fucking.

I sucked in a breath and put my phone away.

“I didn’t see Ethan that much this weekend,” someone behind me whispered. “Was he sick or something?” Someone else offered.

Teresa boarded the bus minutes later. She glared at me as she put away her bag and made her way to the back. Before I could process that, Ethan stepped onto the bus looking sexy as ever. His eyes met mine and he placed his bag in a bin at the front. Then he made his way down the aisle, but I stood up before he could sit down.

“Where are you going?” he asked, moving with me.

“I just want a better view.” I shrugged. “That’s all.”

“Hmmm.” He smiled, making my stomach flip. “Are you still sore?”

I blushed. “Can we talk about what happened when we get home?”

“I don’t see what we need to talk about.”

“Us.” I looked at him and lowered my voice. “And people thinking that we’re fucking.”

“We are fucking.” He smiled. “Well, we were up until an hour ago.”

“You know what I mean, Ethan.”

“I don’t. Did you not enjoy it?”

I didn’t answer, and he raised his eyebrow.

“Tell me if you enjoyed it before you make your next flawed point.”

“Yes, I enjoyed it, Ethan,” I lowered my voice. “Happy?”

“I am. Now what’s the problem?”

“We’re not together, you’re not looking for anything serious, and I have no interest in dealing with speculation from anyone about—”

He pressed his lips against mine, kissing me long and hard in front of everyone—silencing every excuse I had. There was a chorus of gasps when he pulled away from me, a few approving utterances from the guys.

“There,” he said, whispering against my mouth. “Now there’s no speculation about anything at all.”