The Temptation of Lila and Ethan

Page 51

“I…” I look back at Ella, who nods and motions at me to go ahead. I turn back to Ethan, who’s trying to smooth the wrinkles out of his gray shirt. “I guess I can.”
He smiles, but there’s worry behind it, and suddenly my mind flips on, running about a thousand miles a minute. He’s just seen his ex-girlfriend. What if it turns out he still loves her? What if he’s come to tell me this? What will I do? Break? The idea of going back to pills seems so easy and yet at the same time so hard. The idea of going back to that girl who relied on medication and sex to make her feel better almost makes me sick. I don’t want to be her. I want to be the Lila who’s been developing over the last month: the pill free, clear-headed one, who can live without money or fancy clothes. The one who felt every part of the experience with Ethan and didn’t feel ashamed or worthless.
I don’t want to die all over on the inside. I don’t want beauty and money to define me. I want to thrive. And that’s what I’m going to choose to do.
Chapter Nineteen
Lila
It’s been a while since I’ve been this nervous. Right after the thing with Sean happened, one of the Precious Bells told the entire school. I remember sitting in my room the day it happened, dreading going to class, fearing what everyone would say. I was actually sick to my stomach. In the end I had to go to school and everyone started calling me a whore. It was all a big joke to them. They cut me apart, ripped me to shreds, but nothing hurt as much as the fact that Sean had never called afterward. He’d simply untied the ropes, zipped up his pants, grabbed his jacket, and muttered a “That was great,” before slipping out the hotel room door.
As Ethan and I sit on the bed in Ella and Micha’s quaint little guestroom, I feel like I’m headed to that same place, but I’m not sure why. Ethan hasn’t really said anything. He was being standoffish on the phone. I need to stop overanalyzing.
“So how’s everything been for the last few days?” Ethan asks, leaning against the headboard. He looks tired, bags under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept in a while.
I shrug, kneeling on the bed near where his knees are. “It’s been going good… Although I did go to my house and ran into my mother.”
He straightens up a little, his muscles tightening. “Why the hell did you go there? You should stay away from them. Your parents are fucking douche bags.” He pauses, assessing me like he’s afraid they physically broke me or something. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “As okay as I ever am.”
“What did they say to you?”
“They didn’t say anything to me. My father wasn’t there.”
“What did your mother say to you then?” he asks, looking unhappy.
I shrug, unable to keep a frown on my face from forming. “Nothing she hasn’t said before.”
He presses his lips together and shakes his head. “You need to stay away from them… the things you told me they’ve said to you… they don’t deserve you.”
I love you. God, I do. I sit down, crossing my legs, my dress riding up a little. “I know, but I didn’t go there to see them. I went there to steal a dress out of the closet.”
He arches an eyebrow. “A dress?”
I shrug and then tell him about the dress and what happened with my mom, surprised by how easy it is to tell him the truth, down to how I felt about knowing the pills were so close. I wanted to rip them out of her purse and devour them. I wanted to make myself feel better, but I didn’t do it. I know now they don’t make me feel better. They just make me not feel.
“It’s normal,” he says when I’m done. He sits up and turns to the side so he’s facing me. “To want them when you know they’re near. What’s important is that you didn’t take them.”
I nod, trying to pick up his vibe, but he’s stoic and it’s frustrating me. “How about you? How was…” God, this is so hard. “How was seeing London?”
He waits a moment to respond, looking me over with his eyebrows furrowed as if he’s perplexed. “It wasn’t like how I thought it would be.”
I take a deep breath, fearing the answer, fearing the worst, but ultimately telling myself that I have to handle it because I won’t go back to being what I was. “And how did you think it would be?”
He keeps staring at me, not saying anything and it drives me crazy, to the point that I feel like I’m going to explode.
“Ethan, would you please tell me what you’re thinking?” I kneel up in front of him as I wince at the neediness in my tone.
A breath eases out of his lips as he reaches for my hips, surprising me when he folds his fingers around me and brings me to his lap so I’m straddling him. “I’m thinking that I missed you.” His forehead creases as he says it. “In fact, I was kind of surprised how much I was thinking about you the entire time.”
I’m not sure whether to be happy or offended. “You weren’t planning to think about me at all?”
He shakes his head, staring at me like he’s lost. “I honestly thought I’d go there and be completely focused on saying goodbye and letting London go, but it turns out I think I already had in a way… I think it might have happened the moment I decided to be with you.” He pauses, contemplating, his lips quirking. “I’m kind of sounding cheesy right now, huh?”
I try not to smile, but I’m failing. “Cheesy can be good, though. Like in the movies. Everyone always ends up happy.”
“You think we’re going to end up happy?” He seems wary.
“I honestly don’t know, but…” I gather my breath and my courage as I place my hands on his shoulders. “But I’d kind of like to find out.” I hold my breath while I wait for him to say something.
He plays with a strand of my hair, twirling it around his finger and then tucking it behind my ear. “I don’t want to turn out like my parents… I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t either,” I say. “I want us to be happy.”
“Relationships can be ugly. I’ve seen it.”
“So have I.” I pause, not wanting to ask but needing to know. “But, Ethan, I don’t get it. You say you don’t want to be in a relationship, yet you were in one with this girl… London.”
He keeps looking into my eyes, really looking at me as he cups my cheek and grazes his thumb across my cheekbone. “Things with London were always intense and easy because we never talked about anything, really. She made me feel free in a strange way, because she never made me feel like I had to give her anything. We just kind of coexisted.”
I frown. “It sounds like your dream.”
He shakes his head. “I thought so, but I was wrong. I never really knew anything about her. It was easy and fun to be with her, but I think that was because we were high all the time. I think I liked the idea of her, but with you…” He trails off, his eyelids lowering as he chooses his words carefully. “God, half the time you drive me crazy. You challenge my patience. Piss me off. Make me feel things… That’s the thing, Lila. You make me feel things for you, even when I’m fighting it. No one has ever done that to me.”
“So you want to be with me?” I’m so confused. “Even though we sometimes clash?”
“I told you I did a long time ago,” he says, brushing my hair from my eyes.
“When?”
“In the desert. Back when I told you we should go on a road trip together.”
“I thought you were kidding about that.”
He slowly shakes his head, never taking his eyes off me. “At the time I told myself I was, but deep down I’ve known for a while that there’s no way I could leave you behind.” His chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath. “I… I love you, Lila.”
My heart stops in my chest. I’ve heard the words uttered many times in the heat of the moment, from guy after guy wanting to get into my pants, but never like this. I’ve never known someone like this before we had sex. I’ve never been friends first.
Tears start to form in my eyes as the last six years pour through me. All those years of feeling worthless, unloved, unworthy of love. God, it hurt more than I let on. I can still feel the pain inside my body, haunting me, along with every choice I’ve ever made in life. But the thing is, they’re in the past, and moving forward I need to stop being so fixated on the things that have happened and focus on what I want to happen.
“I love you, too,” I blurt out, overly excited but not caring. “I really do.”
He releases a breath and then smiles. “Jesus, for a second there I thought you were going to reject me or something.”
“Never,” I say and kiss him softly on the lips, feeling the connection I’ve never felt with any other guy. “I could never reject you.”
I start to move back, but he cups his hand around the back of my head and kisses me forcefully. Our lips melt together as we kiss each other passionately, his hands wandering all over my body, across my bare back, tracing a line down my spine. He tastes me, steals my breath away as I press closer to him, wishing that we could stay this way forever.
My heart knocks in my chest as he slips the straps of my dress down my shoulders. I can feel every single aspect of his touch and I embrace it. All those years I was dead inside, locked in a coffin I built myself, and I’m finally free. The contact of our skin sends a rush through my body and a hunger surges through me. I want to feel what I felt the night we had sex. I need to right now. I pull away and he watches me with confusion as I slip my dress down my body, unable to wait any longer. I need him close to me more than I need air.
After I kick my dress to the floor, I return to his lap and straddle him. Before I reconnect my lips to his, I slip his shirt over his head and he watches me the entire time, his expression unreadable. I throw his shirt onto the floor and then trace my fingers along the lines of his muscles and the tattoos that brand them. Each one I’m sure tells a story and one day in the future—our future—I’ll have to get him to tell them to me. I splay my palm flat across his chest, feeling his heart beat against my hand. It thumps hard, erratically, nervously like my own.