A New Reflection

34. Winter Break

The next morning at breakfast is the strangest I have ever felt in my life, both emotionally and physically. My whole system is a bit of a wreck from the overindulgence in alcohol immediately following an extreme bout of strep throat. I'm glad I am flying home today for break in order to detox for a few weeks.

My brain is cloudy from the hangover and befuddlement over what happened last night with Ethan. We ended up making out for nearly an hour in his bed. Nothing progressed beyond that point; he didn't pressure me or even suggest that we do anything more. Isla woke up at one point when Ethan went to the bathroom, realized what was happening and chided me in shocked amusement.

"Hey." It's all Ethan and I can say to each other as we stand in line for omelettes. There's an intensely uncomfortable tension between us; it's not that alluring, tingly sensation portrayed in romance novels. I am about to choke on the crackling static electricity hanging in the air.

Neither of us can look the other in the eye. I am dying to know if he regrets kissing me or what is causing his intense shyness. Selfishly, I believe I'm the only one with the prerogative to act shy and awkward, and it's Ethan's responsibility to take the lead here.

I glance at Isla, and I can tell from her expression that she is observing the train wreck of our morning-after reunion with immense enjoyment. Her eyes sparkle into mine, mocking me—with love.

Ethan chats with Isla throughout breakfast, and I am basically silent. My stomach is still queasy from last night.

"Want to take a walk?" Ethan asks me quietly as we finish up breakfast.

"Sure?" I say, full of hesitation.

We amble along the same brick pathway we did several weeks ago, when I told Ethan about kissing Joshua, and some of his comments rush back to me now. If his confession last night was true—he thinks I'm cute—I am forced to reinterpret so many other things he has said to me in the past months.

"I just wanted to make sure you are okay, after last night," Ethan opens.

"Yes, I'm okay. Are you?" I'm terrified of the answer.

"Yep," he says, quiet but matter-of-fact. "I've actually been wanting to kiss you for a really long time."

Oh my God. My legs actually go weak.

"Seriously? I had absolutely no idea."

"Yeah, I've had a huge crush on you and Isla this whole semester."

Me and Isla? Interesting...

"So, you're not uncomfortable with what happened last night?" he continues.

I attempt to hold back my reaction, which is the urge to burst into giggles. "No," I say. "It felt surprisingly... comfortable."

I'm unable to interpret his expression, but a tiny smile flashes across his lips and his face looks bright.

"Good," he responds with simplicity. "Because I would hate for anything to spoil our friendship."

Friendship. Now I'm confused. I'm not sure what he wants, or what I want. I pray he takes the conversation there. In the miniscule experience I now have with boys, I loath the game of mystery, the intricate decoding I'm forced to do, the fact that we can't just bust open the conversation and explore the truth. For someone who spent nineteen years holding everything inside, I'm now bursting to spill my guts into the ether for all to see.

Ethan steers the conversation towards my plans for winter break and doesn't mention anything more about last night's escapade. We return to the dorms, and he gives me a warm, lingering hug before we part ways to pack our suitcases.