The Rules of the Red - 2014 Watty Award Winner |✓|

Chapter Eighteen - Part One

“And you know what?” Ethan said, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “The night after we went to the morgue, I went home and practiced sending you emotions – just like you did for me in that elevator – and guess what? It didn’t work, Mimi. I couldn’t figure it out.”

“Yeah, but how do you know it didn’t work?” I said, refusing to allow myself to be convinced.

“Hmm, I dunno. You never called begging for me to jump your bones, so I just assumed I failed.”

“Wow, Ethan,” I said, turning my head sideways to look at him. “Are we serious right now?”

“I’m telling you, Naomi, there’s more to your story.” Ethan said. “I know it.”

He turned away from me, distracted again, but something caused me to hold him back.

“Ethan, did she tell you who you marry? Do you know your wife?”

Previously he had been staring down at the ground, kicking rocks around as a sort of distraction. But now he looked up, searching my face for a moment, hard, and causing my heart to jump into my throat.

“Nope,” he said finally. “I don’t yet. But I’m really gonna enjoy getting to know her.”

*  *  *

Not long after our conversation had passed, was I was able to divert Ethan’s attention toward the prospect of a cozy afternoon matinee in my living room. It was such a normal, uncomplicated thing to do between friends, that I knew Ethan wouldn’t be able to resist. And I had to admit, the idea had sounded appealing even within my own ears. So, to my home we returned, where Ethan flopped unceremoniously onto my couch, and Mrs. Trentley cast him her usual, disapproving glare before retrieving the alcohol cart.

There were a few moments of channel surfing under Ethan’s strict directions, where I could do nothing but sigh and roll my eyes in between button-clicking. But then, under the pretext of having to utilize the restroom, I slipped away to the opening credits of some random, bloody thriller on Spike TV. And after charging upstairs to my room, I entered my bathroom and locked the door behind me before finding it safe to pull out my phone. But dialing Eve’s number was no reassuring feat either, as I turned on all the taps to help muffle the sound of my voice.

“Hello?” she answered, sounding tired from my end of the line, as if perhaps last night’s sleep had evaded her.

“Texting Ethan, are we?” I asked, in a voice that remained unsympathetic. “Uh-oh, I hope you aren’t getting cold feet about any of this…”

“I’m not backing out!” Eve snapped, in a tone that was strangely out of sync with her usual, ironically classy demeanor.

“Well, that’s good to hear, because you have a problem. And when I say you, I mean that it’s absolutely one hundred percent your issue to deal with – not mine.”