Ethan Wong, an ex-prodigy violinist, thinks it's not meant to be.
After his latest mental breakdown at his last violin competition, where he placed tenth out of ten contestants, he's not sure why his music professor appointed him the soloist for th...
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You were my everything.
I couldn't believe I had just told Ethan that. Now, he probably thought I was some lovesick fool. Not that he'd be wrong, but I didn't want him to feel pressured or bothered by it, especially when he most definitely did not share the same sentiment. Of course, he managed to move on and forget me.
Luckily, and unluckily, Felipe had halted the painfully awkward conversation. Kenji and Eric had been right behind him, glancing between us like they had when we first ran into them earlier. Judging by Kenji's raised brow, he knew something was strange between Ethan and me, even when I told them he was an old friend. If he suspected anything, he didn't say anything.
On the other hand, Felipe was fired up to drink late at night, his flushed face evident that he had drunk upstairs before roping the other two into joining him. Kenji and Eric were more than content with staying in their hotel room, but someone had to chaperone Felipe before he wound up on the wrong side of the city. It wouldn't be the first time we'd have to send the entire team out to find him.
"Join us," Felipe slurred. "It'll be fun."
"No thanks. I'd rather rest," I told him. It was more like I'd rather be in Ethan's company, but I wasn't about to let another silly confession slip.
Felipe made a face. "Lame. The place has two-dollar oyster shooters during happy hour. Don't you love sushi?"
Kenji pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not even sushi."
"Felipe, I'm allergic to shellfish, remember?" I reminded him.
He tilted his head like a confused puppy; his hair flopping over only made it more comical. "But there's no shell in a shooter."
Yup, Felipe was indeed already intoxicated. I looked at the other two apologetically. He would be a definite handful if he were already like this.
"Come on," Eric said, gripping our shortstop by his upper arm. "Cam rejected your offer, and happy hour isn't all night. Let's go."
"Boo," Felipe drawled but willingly went along with Kenji and Eric, the promise of oyster shooters and alcohol too tempting.
Ethan didn't say anything as they left the lobby.
"Sorry about him; he's not always like this." I rubbed the back of my neck. "There's always that one alcoholic on the team, I suppose. Maybe not yet, but Felipe makes any excuse to celebrate with alcohol."
"Sounds like a handful," Ethan said as he headed toward the elevators, hitting the up button. He didn't say anything else as another guest stepped in, merely standing closer to me to accommodate the hotel guest's luggage. While not a huge deal, I smiled and resisted the urge to step even closer. It would've been so easy to brush our shoulders or even our fingertips, but we weren't like what we were used to anymore. Sneaking in subtle touches wouldn't go unnoticed.
