“I would say I can’t believe it, but I guess this is just the way things had to go,” I say. I clench my teeth. What the hell are either of us going to do? What even can we do?
“We can figure something out,” Ethan says, almost as if he’s read my mind.
“I don’t know what we can do other than… I guess just refuse to participate in either case,” I say, racking my brain to figure out all the angles.
“Well, the argument both of our parents seem to be making is that Riley needs a stable life,” Ethan points out. I wonder how it’s possible for him to be so much more clear-headed about this whole mess than I am. But then, I think, he’s had more time to process the whole situation.
“Right. Dad is saying that ferrying Riley back and forth between our houses and your parents’ and his house is harmful to her,” I agree.
“And my parents are kind of countering that while that’s right, it’s just more reason for Riley to stay with me alone,” Ethan adds.
I take a deep breath. “So, one option is proving that it isn’t the case,” I say. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and worry it for a few moments.
“Well, if it was that big of a problem, family courts would never give parents joint custody of kids, right?”
I smile slightly. That’s an excellent point.
“And I guess the other option is that we’ll both testify against them, against all of them, and in favor of keeping Alexis’ will provisions intact,” I point out.
“I think… as much as it sucks, we might have to come out against both your dad and my parents. Like not just testify against them, but keep them all from being in Riley’s life, if they’re going to pull something like this,” Ethan says.
I consider that. I’ve already followed through on my threat to Dad that if he couldn’t keep from trying to punish Ethan, I’d pull Riley out of his life and stay out of his life myself. It’s only fair that Ethan’s parents get the same consequences, though obviously that’s going to make planning our division of watching her that much more complicated.
“Yeah, that might be what we have to do,” I say, sighing. I can still feel my heart pounding in my chest, and the prospect of losing contact with Riley completely terrifies me, even though I know, intellectually, that Ethan would probably do everything in his power to make sure that I have access to his daughter.
“We could also figure out a way that we don’t have to split her up so much,” Ethan says, and I look at him, confused.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… if we lived closer to each other, that might help,” Ethan says. “And we’d be able to see more of each other overall.”
I look down at my hands. Could I really deal with seeing even more of Ethan than I already do?
“I don’t know if that would be wise,” I say slowly.
“Why not? It would give us an edge over either argument,” Ethan points out.
I look at him steadily for a few moments, thinking of how to say what it is that I want to say.
“We’ve had sex. We’ve made out. If we lived closer together…” I shake my head slowly.
“Are you really that worried about something happening between us again?” Ethan smiles slightly.
“Well, yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Just can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”
I snort. “That’s not the problem,” I tell him, feeling a little irritable at his playfulness and obvious self-assurance.
“My parents seem to think you hate me. Is that true. Lara?”
I press my lips together. “No, I don’t hate you,” I admit. “I just… I want to keep myself safe.”
“You are so worried about keeping your feelings safe and keeping yourself objective. Did you feel better after we had sex or worse? I mean, before you let yourself get worked up about how wrong it was. Physically, did you feel better or worse?”
I feel the blood rushing into my face.
“Physically better, but I don’t know if that’s enough to justify ever doing it again.”
“You’re shaking,” Ethan says.
“I’m stressed out and over-caffeinated,” I tell him. I feel like an irresponsible college student somehow.
“Come here,” Ethan says firmly.
I raise an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Give me your hands. Alexis used to get like this when she was hyped, and I know how to help,” Ethan tells me.
Part of me is doubtful, even resentful, of the idea that anything that could have helped my sister would help me. I extend my hands to him anyway, shifting on the couch so that I’m closer to where he sits.
He takes my right hand in both of his, and starts slowly kneading at my palm with his thumbs. Almost instantly I feel a deep-down jolt, not pleasure, or pain, but something like a knot unraveling in the pit of my stomach, a tension that I hadn’t even known I was carrying suddenly falling away. Ethan kneads even deeper, working his way along the fleshy part of my hand into the center of my palm, and then out to my fingers. I hadn’t even realized that hands could hold onto tension.
He moves from one hand to the other, and instead of the relaxing feeling, something else starts up in the pit of my stomach, or maybe a little lower, down between my hips. It’s heat, and I’m enjoying the feeling of Ethan’s fingers moving deftly on my hands too much to question it. I sigh and catch a glimpse of Ethan’s smile, his little spurt of pride. I have to admit that somehow, it’s actually helping me. I can feel my heart slowing down a little bit, and instead of feeling stressed and overwhelmed, I’m starting to feel turned on.
“What are you doing to me?” I
