"Haze, look at me. You are literally the only person in this city who didn't know," Ada's voice crackled through the phone's speaker.
I was standing in front of my closet, wrapped in a towel, staring at a forest green knit dress like it was a complex math equation. "Didn't know what? That Ethan is a good friend who conveniently took leave right when my life imploded?"
"Oh, please," Ada scoffed. I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "You were blind, Haze. Completely, utterly blind. Everybody knew he had feelings for you. It wasn't 'just friendship' to anyone but you."
"No. No way. He's Ethan. We talk about curriculum and Marvel movies. It's safe. Don't ruin it with your fan-fiction, Ada."
"It's safe because he made it safe for you while you were with that disaster, Zack," Ada said, her tone softening. "Just... don't be shocked if the vibe is different tonight."
The restaurant was small and cozy. Ethan was already there, leaning against the bar. When he saw me, he gave me his signature lopsided grin and a quick, firm hug. It smelled like cedarwood and the cold night air—familiar and grounding.
"You look like you've had a day," he said, pulling out my chair.
"Understatement of the century," I joked, sliding into the booth.
The next two hours were... normal. Blissfully, wonderfully normal.
"So," Ethan said, picking a fry from my plate—a classic 'best friend' move. "I heard you're finally getting that smart board for your classroom tomorrow. Need a 'genius' to help you set it up after school, or are you going to fight the technology alone again?"
I laughed, feeling the tension from the café earlier that day finally begin to melt. "Excuse me? I am a professional. But... since you're officially back and clearly bored, I might let you carry the heavy cables. Consider it your welcome-back gift."
"Carry the cables, huh? I move mountains for you, and I get demoted to an IT assistant," Ethan smirked, leaning back. "But fine. I have to be at the district office tomorrow morning anyway to sign my final transfer papers. I'll drop by your wing around three?"
"Three works," I said, taking a sip of my wine. "I'll have the coffee ready. And maybe some papers that need grading if you're feeling extra helpful."
"Don't push your luck, Haze," he chuckled. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief, and I felt a wave of relief. See? I thought. Ada is just dramatic. This is just Ethan. We're making plans for tomorrow just like we always do. No 'feelings,' just routine.
We walked out to the parking lot in silence. The damp pavement reflected the neon signs, and the air was crisp. As we reached my car, I turned to him, ready for our usual "see ya tomorrow" routine.
"Thanks for tonight, Ethan. I really needed this. Just... normal human interaction without the drama."
"Anytime, Haze. You know that," he said, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. He looked at the ground for a second, then back at me. "I'm glad I stayed. I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else tonight."
"Me too. See you at three tomorrow?"
I reached for my door handle, but he didn't move away. He stepped just a fraction closer—enough to make the air between us feel heavy. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. It was a gesture he'd done a thousand times, but this time, his fingers didn't just brush past. They lingered.
His thumb traced the line of my jaw, moving so slowly it sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to my spine. He didn't say a word. He just looked at me—really looked at me—and for the first time, I saw it. It wasn't the look of a friend. It was a peek into a world of emotions he'd been keeping under lock and key.
He let his hand drop, but his gaze stayed locked on mine for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
"I'll be counting down the minutes until three, Haze," he said, his voice a pitch lower, thicker.
He turned and walked toward his car, leaving me standing there in the cold. I scrambled into the driver's seat, my breath coming in short gasps. I looked at myself in the rearview mirror. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart was hammering against my ribs.
Counting down the minutes?
OMG, I thought, my hands gripping the steering wheel. WTF... Ada was right.