Chapter Eleven

Ethan

I call Becca, knowing she's home for lunch. She told me her schedule yesterday.

"Hey, Ethan," she says, and just hearing her voice makes me smile.

"Hey. Question for you."

"Hold on. I need to go to my room." I hear her walking, then a door shut. "Okay, go ahead."

"Wait or not wait?"

"What are we referring to here?"

"When you really like someone, and you want to see that person again, do you wait the recommended two or three days before doing so, or do you forget the rule and just invite the person over?"

"Well, in our case, I think we already broke the rule last night, given that we were together two nights in a row. I assume you're talking about us?"

This feels strange to me. I'm not used to admitting how much I like a girl. Then again, I've never liked a girl this much.

I haven't answered her question but the answer is obvious. She knows I'm talking about us.

"Are you asking me to come over?" she asks.

"Yes. But I know you have to work tonight. What time do you get off?"

"We close at eleven, but by the time we're done cleaning up it's close to midnight."

"Oh. Shit, that's late and you have to work the next morning. Okay, well, I guess you can't come over."

"Unless you want me to stop by between jobs. I should be done cleaning by four and I don't have to be at work until five-thirty. I usually go home and shower but I could skip that today if you really want to get together."

I hope she's not agreeing to this because she feels sorry for me. By now I'm sure she's figured out I never leave the house.

As I'm sitting here talking to her, I'm realizing how desperate I sound calling and asking to see her again after spending the weekend with her. But it's not because I'm lonely. It's because I like her so much and want to see her.

"Just forget it," I say. "I don't want to mess up your schedule."

"No, Ethan, really. I don't mind."

"I shouldn't have asked. I know you're busy. I just—"

"I want to," she blurts out, followed by a pause. "Not wait. That's my answer."

"What?" I ask, not sure what she's referring to.

"I'm answering your earlier question. If I really like someone and want to see him again, I don't wait. I don't follow the two day rule."

I smile, feeling both relieved that she doesn't think I'm some desperate loser, and happy that I'll be seeing her in a few hours. "So a little after four?"

"Yeah. I'll see you then."

At four-fifteen, she shows up in her maid's uniform that on anyone else wouldn't be sexy at all, but on her is so damn sexy I've had fantasies about her wearing it. About her coming here to clean, but then I end up ripping off that blue, button-up dress and doing her right here on the couch. Of course in my fantasies, my leg isn't trapped in some stupid cast. The cast really limits what I can do, although there are ways to work around it. I've had fantasies about that too.

"Hi!" She comes over to the couch, a big smile on her face.

It's been a long time since I've seen a girl truly happy to see me and not just smiling because she's with Ethan Baxter, the star quarterback. Those girls had a motive; have sex with Ethan Baxter so they could tell their friends and make them jealous. I hate that bullshit but I played along because I got laid by some very hot chicks.

But I wasn't happy. Correction. My dick was happy but the rest of me wasn't. Because none of it was real. We were both playing a game, pretending we liked each other when in reality we were just using each other.

But this thing with Becca and me? It's real. I can feel it. I can see it in her smile. She's actually happy to see me, not just faking it to get what she wants. The attraction we have to each other is more than physical. And then there's the fact that she's genuinely interested in me and what I have to say and who I am. I've never dated someone like that and I'm almost afraid to. I'm afraid of what will happen if it doesn't work out. Afraid of how I'll feel. Up until now, I've kept people at a distance. Getting too close to someone makes me uncomfortable.

"Hey." I grab her hands and pull her down to me and kiss her. When I open my eyes, I can see right down her dress. She's wearing a light blue bra with lace at the edges and a tiny bow in the middle. It's both sweet and sexy, just like her, although right now, all I can think about is her sexy side. I'm drawn back to my fantasies of her in this dress, and before I can stop myself, my hand rises up to the V-shaped neckline. I run my finger along the edge, then beneath the fabric, feeling her soft, smooth skin.

I slowly undo the top button. She lets out a breath and I capture her lips with my mouth as I undo another button. I slip my hand under the fabric and cup her breast, my thumb circling over her nipple.

She tenses up for just a moment, then relaxes into my touch as I continue to kiss her.

I'm so freaking hard, wanting to relieve the tension but having no idea if I can. I don't think she'll let me and it's probably for the best. I don't want to rush this. I don't want to risk messing it up and having it end before it's barely even started.

"Ethan," she whispers, breaking from my lips. "We should stop."

I swallow. "Yeah."

She kisses me once more, then slowly stands up.

"Just so you know," I say, "I don't usually greet people that way."

She laughs. "I would hope not."

"But if you like my greeting, I'd be happy to greet you that way again."

"I think I'd like that. Except when I'm working here. That might be weird." She sits beside me, buttoning up her dress. "Is it weird that I work for you?"

"You work for my mom, not me. I didn't hire you and I don't pay the bills."

"I know, but still, is it weird?"

"I'm not sure. You've only cleaned here one time, and last week we weren't together like this so it's hard to say. Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"No. I mean, it doesn't right now but I guess I need more time to figure that out. We'll see how Thursday goes."

"Tell you what. If at any time, either one of us thinks it's weird or uncomfortable, I'll just call the cleaning service and have them send someone else out."

"That might get me in trouble. They'd want to know why you didn't want me anymore."

I smile at her. "I'd tell them it's because I want your time to be spent with me, not cleaning my house."

"Which they wouldn't like. We're not supposed to fraternize with the homeowner."

"I'm a renter, not an owner. And our fraternizing is none of their business." I lean over and kiss her.

"Yes, but if I'm not cleaning here, I have to clean somewhere else. I don't get paid unless I work, and I really need the money."

"Then you'll keep working here and we'll keep it a secret that you're fraternizing with the homeowner slash renter. Does that work?"

"Yes." She kisses me and we end up back where we started when she got here, with my hand down the front of her dress. I want to keep going, but I keep it above her waist, trying to take things slow, which is nearly impossible with a girl this hot.

"We have to stop," she says, sitting back and catching her breath. "I have to leave for work soon."

I check the clock. Shit, we've been making out for almost thirty minutes. Fastest thirty minutes of my life.

"Can I use your bathroom? I need to change."

"Go ahead."

She takes her backpack into my bathroom and a few minutes later, she reappears, this time wearing her Chicken Shack uniform. Just as she described, it's red and white plaid, but it's a lot shorter than I imagined, ending several inches above her knee. And it's low cut, the neckline dipping into her cleavage. And it's tight.

"What the hell?" I say. "That's your uniform?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Did you get the wrong size?"

She laughs. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's too freaking short and way too tight and it needs some extra buttons to close up the neckline. I can see your breasts and you're not even bending over."

She rolls her eyes. "You sound just like Mike."

"You should listen to him. That uniform shows too much."

"I can't do anything about the uniform. And besides, it gets me big tips."

"You shouldn't be using your body that way. To get tips." I can't believe I'm saying this. I sound like some old guy, telling her how to dress. But damn, I don't want guys staring at her while she works. Or asking her out.

I'm already jealous and I haven't even dated her for a week. What the hell? I'm not the jealous type, or at least I never used to be.

She puts her hands on her hips. "Don't start telling me what to do or how to dress. I don't put up with that shit. Never have."

"I'm not telling you what to do. Obviously you have to wear what they give you but I still think it's too revealing."

She checks her phone. "I need to go or I'll be late."

"One last kiss?"

She leans down and kisses me. "I'll call you later."

"Yeah. Bye."

Later that night, I assume she'll send me a text just to say hi or how her night is going, but she doesn't. And I don't hear from her the following morning. Maybe she needs a break from me. Maybe I shouldn't have invited her over yesterday. Maybe I should've waited a few days. Dammit. Why do I feel like I keep screwing this up?

I'm not used to this. Waiting for a girl to call or text? That's not me. I need to just relax and let this relationship go where it's gonna go. I can't force it, and I shouldn't. I don't know what we're doing here and I can't promise her anything, so honestly, I shouldn't even be getting involved with her. But I can't help myself. I really like this girl.

At seven, she finally calls. "Hey, Ethan. I've been really busy. This is the first chance I've had to call."

"Are you at work?"

"Yeah, I'm on break. So what are you up to?"

"Watching a baseball game. What time do you get off tonight?"

"Close to midnight. I'd love to stop over but it'll be too late."

"Yeah, I understand." But I'm disappointed. I wanted to see her. "So how was your day?"

"Exhausting. And now my break is over. I have to go, but I'll call you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Okay. See ya."

The girl works too hard. Makes me feel lazy, sitting here doing nothing. During the school year, I keep busy with classes and football but I still make time to party and hang out with friends. It sounds like all Becca ever does is work.

Around midnight, I'm still awake, watching a movie but thinking about Becca. I can't get her out of my thoughts.

My phone dings with a text that reads, Can I come in?

The text is from Becca. I burst from the couch, launching myself into the chair and wheeling to the door. I open it and see her standing there, looking tired but still as beautiful as ever.

"I decided to stop by. Is that okay?" She's smiling, already knowing the answer from the big-ass grin on my face.

"Get over here." I grab her hand and pull her down for a kiss. It's only been a day since I kissed her but I'm finding that's way too long.

"Ethan," she laughs, backing away. "I need to shut the door." She closes it and we go to the couch.

As I transfer myself from the chair to the couch, I notice Becca staring at my abs. I'm not wearing a shirt.

"What are you looking at?" I laugh a little as I see her eyes quickly dart back to my face. 

"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

"Because I was hot. And I wasn't expecting company."

"I should've called first."

"You don't need to call. You can stop by anytime."

We look at each other and I feel the tension between us building. The attraction. Like a bubble waiting to burst. And then it does. We launch at each other at the same time, bumping noses as we kiss.

"Sorry." She laughs.

Gently holding her head, I kiss her again, this time slower, feeling the softness of her lips against mine.

"Maybe I shouldn't tell you this," she says as we kiss, "but I've been thinking about this all day."

"About what?" I ask.

"Kissing you." She smiles over my mouth. "That's so embarrassing. I don't know why I told you that."

"You don't have to be embarrassed. I like that you're honest like that. And for the record, I've been thinking about it too." I lift her up, wanting her on my lap.

She resists, sitting up on her knees. "I can't. The dress is too short. It'll rip."

I slide my hands under the hem of her dress and inch it up her thighs. "Try it now."

She smiles and lifts herself over my lap, her dress inching up even more. I can't see her panties but knowing they're right up against my shorts, against my crotch, is making me hard as steel.

She softly moans as I kiss her. I unbutton her dress until her bra is exposed. This time she's wearing a yellow one and I shove one side down and lower my mouth over her breast. Her head tilts back and she breathes out my name, her hand gripping my neck as her hips rock, rubbing herself against me.

Shit, this girl's gonna kill me. I want to be with her so bad. I haven't had sex for almost two months and I've never been this turned on.

Her phone rings and she sighs.

"You need to get that?" I ask.

"Maybe." She checks to see who's calling. "It's my brother." She answers the call and says, "I stopped by Ethan's on my way home. I'll be there soon." She nods. "Yeah, bye." She ends the call and puts her phone away. "I should probably go."

"Do you have to?"

"No, but I should. Otherwise..." She gets off my lap. "Things will happen."

"And you don't want that?"

"I don't know. I mean, I do, but..." She starts buttoning up her dress. "I don't know. For now, I don't think we should go there."

She turns to leave but I hold her arm. "Is it because you don't trust me? Because I swear, I don't cheat. If I'm exclusive with someone, she's the only one."

She hesitates. "I just think we should take it slow. There's no rush, right?"

"Right." My dick would disagree but my head tells me she's right. There's no need to rush. I want to keep seeing her, so if slowing things down is what she's most comfortable with, then that's what we'll do.

"Oh my God, I stink," she says sniffing the collar of her dress.

"You don't stink."

"I reek of fried chicken. Why didn't you say something?"

"I thought you knew."

"I did, but I get so used to it I don't think about it."

"If I'd told you, what exactly would you do?" I smile. "Strip?"

"No, but I could've maybe put on one of your shirts." She sniffs her long dark hair. "I can't believe you didn't say anything. Even my hair smells. You basically just made out with fried chicken."

I laugh. "I like fried chicken. Always have."

She just shakes her head as we make our way to the door.

"Are you making a surprise house call tomorrow too?" I ask.

"Probably not. I need to get home at a reasonable hour and get some sleep. But I'll see you on Thursday."

"But you'll be working."

She kisses me. "If you keep your house clean, it'll take me less time to finish, which means more time for other things."

"So if you're done you don't have to leave?"

"Lois told them it takes three hours to clean your house so that's what they have down." She smiles. "I don't need three hours to clean, especially if you don't make too much of a mess." She walks off. "See ya."

I've never been more motivated to clean. But not now. It's late and I'm tired, but tomorrow I'll be picking up my shit. Doing laundry. Loading dishes into the dishwasher. Anything to give me more time with her.

***

The next day as I'm picking up the clothes I have laying around and dumping them in the laundry basket, Jackson calls.

"Jackson, my man. What's up?"

"What's with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you sound so happy?"

"I didn't know I did."

"Trust me, you do. I haven't heard you sound this way since..." His voice trails off.

He doesn't like to talk about the accident. Nobody does. It's the elephant in the room that everyone refuses to bring up.

"Guess I'm just having a good day."

"It's more than that. It's that girl, isn't it? That girl you had over the other day."

"I don't know. Maybe." I pick a t-shirt off the floor and toss it in the laundry basket.

"What's her name?"

"Becca."

"How'd you meet her?"

Part of me doesn't want to tell him. I don't want him judging her for being a maid.

"Ethan. How'd you meet her?"

"She cleaned my house. And before you say anything, if you make even one rude comment about her being a maid I'll kick your ass next time I see you."

He chuckles. "That'll be hard, given that your leg's in a cast."

"You know what I mean."

"I wasn't going to say anything. Other than it sounds like a porno. The hot maid coming to clean your house? Does she wear one of those sexy maid outfits? The short black dress with the white apron?"

"No, dumbass. And this isn't a porno. She wears a plain blue dress." As I say it, I imagine her in that dress, my hand slowly unbuttoning it as I kiss her.

"But she's hot, right?"

"She's definitely hot."

"Did you bang her yet?"

"No. And don't talk that way about her."

"What way? I was just asking if you had sex with her."

"Which you don't need to know."

"What the hell? We talk about that shit all the time."

"Yeah, well, we're not with her so shut up about it."

"Holy shit, you really like this girl."

"Yeah. I do."

"And she doesn't go to school?"

"She went for a year and a half. She's taking some time off right now. Something about her brother needing help paying rent." Now that I think about it, she never explained why her brother doesn't have a job. We don't really talk about her brother.

"Where'd she go to school?"

"Some community college in Cincinnati."

"Your parents are gonna freak when they find out."

"I don't give a shit. It's none of their business."

"They're still gonna be pissed. Their son dating a community college dropout? Just imagine your mom trying to explain that to her friends."

"I doubt my parents will ever meet her. They probably won't even be back here until I graduate."

"Shit, you're right. If you're not playing football, your dad won't—" He stops, then coughs a little.

"Want to come see me," I say finishing his thought. "You can say it. We both know my dad thinks I'm worthless if I'm not on the team."

"Sorry, man. I didn't mean to throw salt in the wound."

"It's already there. He did that on his last visit. He made it clear I'm no good to him without a football in my hand."

"Speaking of football, I'll be moving back for practice in a few weeks. Probably the end of the month. Derek and I are already planning the parties."

"Count me out. I'm not showing up on crutches."

"Come on, Ethan. That's stupid. It's not a secret you broke your leg."

"I'm the quarterback. I'm their leader. I can't be seen as being weak and broken down."

"We're all broken down at some point or another. It's football. Everyone gets injured. You could've broken your leg playing the game."

"But I didn't. And it wasn't just a simple fracture."

"Any news on how it's healing?"

"No, but I see the doctor tomorrow. I'm hoping he'll say I can start using the crutches."

"And then you'll finally leave the house?"

"I don't know yet. We'll see."

"Ethan, I know you don't want people seeing you injured but you gotta get out of that house. You've been stuck in there for almost two months."

"Yeah? So? It's been nice to finally get some quiet time without people bothering me." It's a lie. Being stuck in this house sucks, but it's better than going out and having people talk about me. "And tomorrow I'll see the doctor so that counts as leaving the house."

"Do you have a ride?"

"I told you, Coach takes me."

He mumbles a curse word.

"What? What is it?"

"Why do you keep lying to me?" He sounds pissed. And hurt.

"I'm not lying."

"I talked to Coach yesterday. He said he hasn't been giving you rides. He said you won't even come to the door when he stops by."

"Because I don't want to see him. I'm not ready to."

"Why? You love Coach. We all do."

"If I talk to him, all he'll want to do is talk about my future in football and whether I'll be able to play. I don't want to deal with that shit right now. At this point, it's anyone's guess if I'll play again, so why sit around talking about it?"

"You could talk about other stuff."

"Just leave it alone, all right?"

He sighs. "Fine. So who's been taking you to the doctor?"

"I take a cab."

"I don't get you, man. Why don't you just let people help you?"

"I don't need help. I can get to a doctor's appointment by myself."

"Sometimes you need someone there for support."

"Maybe you do, but not me. You forget that I grew up with parents who acted like I didn't exist. I'm used to doing stuff on my own."

"Still. I could've been there for you. All you had to do was call."

"Thanks, but I'm good." I glance around at the mess in my bedroom. "I gotta go. Can we talk later this week?"

"Sure. Good luck at your appointment tomorrow. Let me know how it goes."

"I will. See ya."

Jackson's always nagging me about getting out of the house. I know he means well but he doesn't understand. If I leave the house, I'll be under a damn microscope. Everyone will be watching me, placing bets on whether I'll play again. And some of them might contact the sports media, and then I'll have even more people speculating about my future.

I don't need that. I can't deal with it. I've got enough scenarios running in my head, trying to figure out what I'm going to do with my life. So far, I keep coming back to football. It's all I know. It's all I'm good at. Even if I'm tired of it, even if it no longer makes me as happy as it once did, it's all I have. And if I lose it, I have no future.