I was a disgraceful, undeniable idiot.

After Ethan had taken off, I could no longer breathe right.  What I had said or done—or not said or done—was awful.  He thought I hadn’t told anyone about us.  He thought I was embarrassed to be seen with him.  He thought I didn’t want my friends to meet him.

He had been right.

I was, simply put, a horrible person.  I liked Ethan.  I liked him a lot, and I had probably just ruined any chances we might have had because I was afraid of what my friends were going to think of him.  I was even worse than Presley because he didn’t know her, and she didn’t know him.  He hadn’t poured his heart out to her while sitting in a pink bean bag chair, and he hadn’t been in bed with her less than twenty-four hours ago.

I moved like a zombie to my remaining classes, images of Ethan’s agonized expression haunting me.  As soon as my last lecture ended, I went immediately to Ethan’s apartment.  Henry had greeted me cordially enough at the parking garage gate but told me immediately that Ethan wasn’t there.  He had to have known I still had a key to the place, but it was pretty clear he had been told not to let me back in.

Over the next few days, I left Ethan seventeen voice mails.  I had no idea how many times I had tried to call and not bothered leaving a message—too many to count.  He hadn’t called back.  I had considered texting him, but he would only know what they said if someone read them to him, and I really didn’t want anyone else reading what I wanted to say.

It had been less than a week since I had first laid eyes on him, and I had no idea where to even begin to look for him.  The only place I had been with him was the penthouse apartment where he said he rarely ever spent the night.  I knew he stayed with friends on the Lower West Side, but exactly where was a mystery to me.  If he was going to continue to refuse my phone calls, I had no other way to find him.  The phone was still ringing constantly, but the calls were from various friends, not Ethan.  I knew what the rest of them were calling about, and I let every one of them go to voicemail.

Presley’s text messages were the worst.

At least now I know why you haven’t been hanging out with us!

A bicycle?  Really?

Is he still in high school?

I can’t believe you are blowing us off for a guy who shops at thrift stores.

Have you completely and totally lost your mind?  Call me back!

I didn’t call her.  I didn’t call any of them.  I even avoided my apartment as much as possible just in case one of them decided to break down my door.

On Thursday night, I started to get desperate.  Though I knew Ethan wasn’t a student, I found myself searching up and down the streets of the Quarter—the small section of restaurants, shops, and bars just a block from campus where everyone hung out in between classes.

I blinked away tears as I wandered the main street.  My apartment was located on the far side of the Quarter, where all the most affluent grad students congregated to avoid the rest of the riff-raff.  I had been afraid to go into the building itself since I was bound to see someone I knew.  Considering all the calls I had avoided, I knew Presley had told everyone about our run-in with Ethan, and I didn’t want to answer anyone’s questions.

I gave up on the Quarter and headed downtown, closer to Ethan’s apartment and my father’s company.  I considered going back to Ethan’s place again, but I knew nothing had changed.  Henry wasn’t going to let me in, key or not.  Instead, I walked to the intersection where I had first met Ethan, looking left and right down the streets and alleys in hopes of catching a glimpse of boys on BMX bicycles.  I found nothing that would lead me to Ethan.

As I went past the walk-up window of a restaurant, the smell of fresh pizza shimmied up my nostrils and reminded me of our Italian dinner.  Within about four seconds of inhaling the delicious scent, I went from crying harder from the memory to the joy of revelation—the restaurant workers all knew Ethan.  They would be able to tell me how to find him.  I turned on my heel, ran smack into a scrawny, geeky guy with an armload of packages, spent a couple minutes helping him pick them up, and then raced back to my Saab.

Twenty minutes later, I walked through the alley where Ethan had parked his bicycle for our first date.  I considered using the kitchen door, thought better of it, and decided to walk around to the front instead.  It was getting late, and the restaurant would likely be closing soon.  The same redhead was at the hostess’ counter, but her name totally escaped me.

“Hi,” I said.  I was having a really hard time looking her in the eye.  I couldn’t remember her name, but I remembered that she and Ethan had dated.  “I was wondering if you might remember me.  I was here a few nights ago…”

“Yes, I know.  You were with Ethan.”

“Um, yes, right.”  I took a deep breath and tried to start again.  “Actually, I was hoping you might be able to help me out.”

“With?”  The redhead raised an eyebrow at me.

“Well, I’m trying to find him,” I said.  “He’s not answering his phone, and I really need to talk to him.”

“It doesn’t sound like he wants to talk to you,” she said as she turned her back and walked away without another word.

I stood there with my mouth open, looking like an idiot as she went back to her podium and shuffled menus around.  I was about to go back up to her and start an argument when a familiar voice called out.

“Hello there!”  The big guy in white—Alfero, I remembered—walked out of the saloon doors and smiled at me.

“Hi,” I said.

“How are you?  You’re Ashlyn, right?”

“Yes,” I said.  “It’s good to see you again, Alfero.”

“Did you come back for some more pasta, or is it the gelato you are craving?” he asked.  He looked over my shoulder towards the door.  “Where’s Ethan?”

“Well, actually,” I said, “I was hoping you could help me figure that out.”

“Hmm…” Alfero looked me over for a moment.  “I think you’d better sit down.  Sheila, ask the kitchen if there’s any gelato left.”

“Fine,” Sheila grumbled.  At least I had a name for her again.

I walked over to the table Alfero motioned toward while Sheila headed into the kitchen.

“Something not going right?” Alfero asked.  He didn’t waste any time getting to the point, and it reminded me so much of Ethan that suddenly tears were falling without my consent.  I put my hands over my face and heard the scrape of chair legs across the floor before I felt Alfero’s large arms around my shoulders.  He didn’t say a word but let me cry until I managed to compose myself.  He offered me one of the linen napkins from the table to dry my tears.

“I’m sorry!” I was still sniffling.  “I didn’t mean to start all this, it’s just…”

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Ashlyn dear,” he said.  “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

I relayed the events outside the economics building, ending with Ethan’s hasty departure.

“I know I was rude to him, and I really didn’t mean it that way,” I said, sniffing.  “I have my own hang-ups to work through, but I need to talk to him, and he won’t take my calls!  I went to his apartment, but he wasn’t there.  The doorman wouldn’t let me up even though I still have his extra key.  I don’t know how to get ahold of him!”

“Ethan is a very…unusual individual,” Alfero said after a moment’s pause.  “He’s sensitive to a fault, and when he feels something, he feels it very deeply.  He told you about his parents?”

“Yes.”

“Even before their passing, he was an emotional child.  Losing them when he needed them so much was very difficult.  He has found his own peace by living for the moment but has a hard time when others he cares about don’t share his view.”

“Carpe diem,” I murmured.

“Exactly.  I took him to get that added under the dragon’s tail.”

“You did?”

“I did.”  Alfero nodded.  “I knew Ethan’s family before he was even born.  His parents shared their first date here, you know.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“He probably didn’t want to jinx it,” Alfero said with a wink.  “He is completely smitten with you, of course.  It was all over his face when he brought you in, and it just increased the whole time you were here.”

“What am I going to do?”

“What are you willing to do?” Alfero asked pointedly.  “You have some hang-ups, as you called them.  Are you going to be able to face those issues for him?  If not, you need to let him go.  He’s strong, and he will heal.  If you are willing to make some pretty serious changes to your priorities…well, that is up to you.”

“I want to be with him,” I said.  “I know that now.  I know I’ll have to deal with what people think, and that’s not going to be easy, but right now, I’d do anything to get him back.”

“Then I think you have a very good chance.”

“Will you tell me where his friends live?” I asked.  “I’m sure he’s there, and I really have to talk to him.  I have to apologize.”

Alfero smiled, nodded, and wrote the address on a waiter’s bill pad.  He gave me another hug and wished me luck, and I was out the door and headed for one of the worst areas of town.  In designer shoes.

I decided driving my car to the Lower West Side wasn’t a great idea, so I took a cab instead.  It wasn’t hard for the cab driver to find the apartment building with the address Alfero had given me.  The complex was a huge, L-shaped collection of buildings with a dilapidated playground and a parking lot full of rusted cars.

It was dark by the time I arrived, and the area was mostly empty and quiet.  There were two men—probably homeless from the look of them—leaning against each other’s shoulders and sharing a bottle across the street from the apartment buildings, but they didn’t seem to notice me.

I found the correct building and immediately noticed it was in atrocious condition.  Even if the faded paint and worn carpets on the steps inside could be forgiven, I couldn’t ignore the iron gated door, which hung slightly askew by one hinge and did nothing to keep anyone out of the building.  There was also a moldy, musty smell once I walked inside that made me a little sick to my stomach.  I looked at the slip of paper in my hand and read the apartment number again—306.  The numbers on the apartment doors on the lower floor went from 101 to 106.

I went to the elevator, but there was a faded sign over the buttons stating it was out of order.  Around the corner, I found the stairs and forced my feet to stomp up the steps, heels and all.  The apartment door was right at the top of the stairs, at the back of the building.  I took a deep breath and knocked.