I stared at the screen as Ethan looked into the camera with a tight, unnatural smile.

“Hi, Ashlyn,” Ethan said.  He paused, ran his hand through his hair, glared off to the side for a moment, and then turned back toward the camera.  “I don’t know what happened.  I thought everything was going so well, but then you left.  I think you got scared, but I don’t know what I did that scared you.  Or is it just the age thing?  I don’t give a shit about that.  It’s just a number, right?  Whatever the problem is, please…please tell me.  If I just know, then I can try to fix it.”

My eyes burned as I watched his pained image on the screen.  When he spoke again, his voice cracked a little.

“I just wanted you around.  Just a little longer.  Well, no—a lot longer, but I’d settle for whatever you’re willing to give me.  But I want a lot.  I know I want to spend a lot of time with you.”

He looked down.  I watched his chest rise and fall a few times as he found his words and looked back up, speaking quickly.

“Is it because I talked too much?  I told you all kinds of shit about me, but I didn’t ask you much about yourself.  I know who your dad is, but I didn’t ask about your mom or your friends or what kinds of questions they asked you in your interview.  That was kinda assholish of me.  I should have asked about you more.  When I get nervous—and you’re so pretty and sophisticated and smart, I was nervous—I babble.  I know I do; I’ve been told that before.  Is that why you left?  Did I just talk too much?  If it is, and you come back, I promise I won’t say anything.  I’ll put duct tape over my mouth and just listen to whatever you want to tell me.  Shit.”

He stopped talking, looked away again, and ran both hands through his hair, tugging at the roots as he leaned forward a little.

“That sounded so weird and creepy.  I’m even fucking up the apology.”  He took another deep breath.  “I don’t want to seem any more creepy than I probably already do.  Please, please call me back.  I was looking forward to hearing you read more of that book.  If you don’t want to read anymore, that’s okay, too.  I just need to know…just tell me how I fucked up so I won’t do it again.  If you decide you don’t want to…well, I won’t like it, but I’ll respect it.  If I don’t hear from you, I guess I know the answer.  I won’t bug you again or anything.”

He licked his lips and then looked straight into the camera.

“I hope you’ll call back.  I really like you, Ashlyn, and I miss you already.”

I sniffed and cleared my dry throat.

For a moment, it wasn’t Ethan who invaded my thoughts but Cole and the last conversation I ever had with him.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Ash?”

“You heard what I said,” I replied in a quiet voice.  I hadn’t been able to meet his eyes.  “I’m moving back in with Presley.  This just isn’t working out between us.”

“You know, I never would have fucked her if you had actually spent some time here instead of in your fucking study groups.  I don’t know why you even bother.  Daddy’s already got your job lined up for you.  Once we’re married, you can have tea parties and bust out children for fuck’s sake.  You don’t need a damn graduate degree.”

I wanted to scream at him.  He was the one who was caught cheating on me, not the other way around.  I wanted to tell him how wrong he was and what a jerk he was, but the words refused to form in my mouth.  Anything I said would have been pointless anyway.  It would change nothing.

“I’m leaving, Cole.”

“You’ll be back.”

Ethan was about as different from Cole as any human being could possibly be.  He was sweet and kind.  He set out towels for me and made me breakfast.  He discussed books and movies with me, but it was all right when we disagreed.  He never once called my opinions stupid or just plain wrong, which was more Cole’s style.  Walking out on him was my fault—he had done nothing wrong—but he didn’t yell at me.  Instead, he actually videotaped an apology even though the whole thing was my fault.

“Who does that kind of thing, anyway?”

The conversation I had with Presley about Isaac and Cole came back to me.  I considered my reasons for ending those relationships.

Isaac had been a difficult decision, not because I wasn’t sure it should end, but because I knew it was going to hurt his feelings.  He came from a decent, upper middle class family, which was just barely okay in my father’s eyes, but he had a lot of ambition.  I’d known him most of my life, and he was comfortable.  The problem was, that was all there was to our relationship.  He was safe and…boring.  I never loved him, and when I realized how much in love with me he was, I had to break it off before it went any further.  We had remained friends, but I often felt just a twinge of tension between us.

Cole had been the complete opposite of Isaac.  My father was thrilled when we began to date.  Cole’s family was a prominent name in local society, and they promised to expand their businesses and ultimately make my father’s company more money.  Cole was exciting and just a little dangerous.  He rode a motorcycle and liked to go deep-sea fishing and skydiving.  He was attractive, protective, and insanely jealous of anyone else around me.  Just being around him had been thrilling, in the beginning at least.  When his temper tantrums began to be directed at me, the shine wore off.  The first time he went off on me in public, my friends began to encourage me to get away from him, but I didn’t listen, not for a long time.  Eventually, it was all too much.  The night I left, there was a moment when I believed he was going to punch me.

Presley referred to Cole as my “bad boy phase” and claimed we all had to go through it.    When Dad heard about my breakup, he tried to convince me to reconsider.  I never told him about Cole’s anger issues, and Dad continued to push the issue until Cole left town.

Ethan was completely different from both Isaac and Cole.

I took a deep breath and watched the video message again.  My heart ached at Ethan’s pained expression and heartfelt words.  I’d hurt him.  Not only that, but I’d also hurt myself.

Why?

Tattoos, bicycle, and age.  Suddenly, all of my reasons for leaving sounded stupid and vain.  It all came down to how my family and friends would react to him.

My phone rang just as the video was ending, and for a moment, my heart stopped, sure it was Ethan calling again.  It wasn’t.  It was only Presley.

“You need a drink,” she said without a hello.

“I do.”

“Yep.  I’m just outside our building.  Let’s go.”

I sighed.  Escape was impossible, so I grabbed my purse and met her downstairs.

“You are distracted,” Presley said.  “What’s going on?”

“Just finals and shit.”  I looked out the window of Presley’s BMW, avoiding eye contact.  It didn’t work.

“You are a terrible liar,” she said.  “Why are you being secretive?  Is it a guy?”

“You always think it’s a guy,” I said.  “When I have a cold, it’s a guy.  When the moon is full, it’s a guy.  When I’m PMSing, it’s a guy.  When I bomb a test, it’s a guy—”

“You’ve never bombed a test.  How about when you make up shit about bombing tests, it’s a guy?”

I laughed.

“Maybe you are the one who met a guy, and you’re trying to divert attention from yourself in order to avoid an inquisition.  Who is he, Presley?  Is he a vagrant wanderer you met by the train tracks?  Or maybe a rock star?”

“You are ridiculous!”  Presley laughed as she pulled her car up to the Club Mania valet.

At least she dropped the subject.

“Margaritas,” Presley said to the bartender as we sat down, “on the rocks with salt.  Use the Don Julio.”

“You got it.”  The bartender flashed a toothy smile as he started mixing the drinks.

“You better get me one, too!”  Zoey grabbed the barstool beside me, yanked it back a foot, and plopped herself down, hitting the side of my face with her long, highlighted curls.  “This was one hell of a weekend!”

She was dressed in a short, red cocktail dress and covered in gold jewelry from Tiffany’s.  Zoey was a trust fund baby and hadn’t even bothered with going further than her bachelor’s degree in human resources.  She had no intention of working right away and continued to lead the collegiate life without the actual classes.

“Where have you been?” Presley asked.  “You disappeared Friday night, and I never heard from you again.”

“Well,” Zoey said as she waved down the bartender, “that’s because I didn’t leave that guy’s hotel room until this morning.”

I shook my head as Zoey ordered a vodka tonic and leaned back on the stool, smiling broadly.

“Which one?” Presley asked.  “There was that dark-haired guy with the intense eyes and the blond one in the suit jacket.  Which one did you go home with?”

“Well, that’s the interesting bit,” Zoey said.

The bartender placed our drinks in front of us, and I licked the salt from the edge of the glass before taking a quick drink.  Zoey watched his backside until he was out of earshot and then turned back to Presley and me.

“Bucket list item checked!”  Zoey held her drink high in the air before taking a sip.  “Two guys at once!”

“You are not right,” Presley said.

“What I am,” Zoey said, “is a well-adjusted woman who isn’t afraid to express herself sexually.”

Presley demanded details of Zoey’s weekend encounter, and I zoned out as Ethan’s video message played through my memory.  The more I thought about it, the more my heart sank.  I pushed my drink a little ways away from me and checked my phone, but there weren’t any more messages from Ethan.

“…then they switched off, and the blond guy—”

“I can’t hear any more of this,” I said with a chuckle.  I pushed my stool back.  “I’m going to the ladies’ room.  Zoey, be done before I get out.”

Presley and Zoey both laughed as I walked away.

In the bathroom, I checked the stalls to make sure I was alone before I watched Ethan’s video again.  When it was over, I stared at my face in the mirror for a moment.  I considered calling him, but if I were to stay in here too long, Presley would come looking for me as soon as Zoey finished her story.

Shoving the phone back in my purse, I washed my hands and headed back to the bar.

“What are you going to do if your daddy ever finds out about your exploits?” Presley asked Zoey.

“Confess?”  Zoey shrugged and took a drink of her vodka.  “I’m not ashamed of it.  I doubt he’d really want to know the details, and he shouldn’t really care until I actually find someone I want to bring to holiday dinners.  I don’t see that happening any time soon.”

My mind conjured up a fantasy of Ethan sitting at my father’s table on Christmas Eve, twiddling the rings in his lip as Dad carved the ham.  The scene was too ridiculous to consider, so instead, I thought of just Ethan and me in his apartment in front of a grand Christmas tree on Christmas morning.  I saw Ethan smile as he turned over a small, wrapped box before leaning over and kissing my cheek.

The image was a comfortable one.  It felt safe, secure, and right.  In my heart, I knew he would be grateful even if he hated the gift itself.  He would probably even tell me he hated it, and then would laugh, kiss me, and tell me how glad he was that I was there with him.

Yes, he had tattoos.  He had piercings.  He had—for heaven’s sake—brain damage.  My father would love his money and family name but would never get past his appearance.  My friends would think he was hot but never get past the age difference.

And none of that shit mattered, because it was Ethan.

“What are you smiling about?” Presley asked.  She narrowed her eyes at me.

“I have to go,” I said.  I stood up, grabbed my purse, and headed toward the door.

“I’m your ride!” Presley called out, reminding me.

“I’ll get a cab!” I called back.  “I owe you for the drink!”

I flagged down a nearby taxi to take me back to my place, jumped into my own car, and headed straight for Ethan’s apartment.