26. now or never.

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It was 8pm on Friday and I already had my pajamas on, makeup off, hair up

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It was 8pm on Friday and I already had my pajamas on, makeup off, hair up. I had gone with cute pajamas, at least, to make myself feel like less of a shut-in-- black satin shorts and a white ribbed tank. But I wasn't sure who I was trying to impress; I knew Ethan wouldn't be coming home.

His team had an early evening game and Isabelle invited me to come watch with her, but I declined. Things had been too tense between us lately and I didn't think my presence would do his game any favours. In fact, he made a point to tell me recently how it didn't.

Ava texted to ask if I wanted to join her in some bar hopping. I seriously considered taking her up on it for the distraction value, but ultimately, I knew that scene would just depress me even more. The last thing I needed was to be crammed into a crowded nightclub, surrounded by random, sweaty people, paying for overpriced drinks.

So instead, my plans for the evening consisted of moping in the tub with a good book and, possibly, crying— again. There would probably be some ice cream involved as well. Okay, a lot of ice cream. Not exactly what most people envision when they think of the perfect college weekend, but all I could muster for the time being.

In truth, I wasn't sad about Hunter. I'd known in my gut that he wasn't the one for me. I was more relieved than anything, and happy it ended on an amicable note. One less complication in my life.

But the mess with Ethan was eating me alive. We were still avoiding each other. And I missed him. A lot. Or rather, I missed the way things used to be with him before they fell apart. Now, they were just difficult and upsetting. The ease we used to feel around each other had vanished.

What happened to us?

I guess there had never been an 'us'.

He used to come home after games but lately, he'd been going out with the team. Or with, well, whoever. I didn't know at this point. But I was pretty confident that that he would go out again tonight and leave me to mope in peace.

In a stoke of terrible timing, I heard him enter the key code for the door while I was still downstairs in the kitchen, putting the kettle on to make tea. Trapped. I was also about to faceplant in a pint of cookie dough ice cream with a spoon, but I nixed that idea when I heard him. Fumbling, I quickly shoved it back into the freezer and debated whether I had time to sprint upstairs without running directly past him; I didn't.

Tension coiled in my body as I heard him walk in, and I waited for him to continue into his office or go up to his room. No such luck. He came straight for the kitchen and stood in the entrance, awkwardly. From the corner of my eye, I could see that he was still dressed in a suit. My kryptonite. Great.

Usually, I could tell whether they had won based on his mood, but not tonight— he just seemed weary and agitated. The air was thick with tension and the silence was so heavy that I could hardly stand it. Holding my breath, I silently prayed to avoid yet another uncomfortable conversation or, worse still, another fight.

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