Palm Print

Chapter 10

I sank into the couch and buried my face in the pillow. I checked if Ethan had messaged, but he hadn’t. Kendra sat on the edge of the couch, eating Reese’s Cup ice cream.

“What are you doing later?” Kendra asked, holding a spoonful of ice cream out to me.

I ate the ice cream. Its sweetness elated my mouth. I smiled and replied, “Ethan and I are doing something.”

She smirked, eating another bite.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing, have fun, babe,” she answered, walking to her room. As she entered her room, she softly clapped her hands.

“Shut up!” I shouted, my voice flustered. “God, I can’t stand you!” She closed the door, laughing.

I sank into the couch and scrolled through Netflix. The hundreds of shows and movies did not catch my eye. I glanced at my phone once, but nothing.

I continued scrolling through Netflix and thought about watching Squid Game. Tristan had been talking about it non-stop. I read the synopsis and it seemed interesting.

As I pressed play, my phone pinged.

Ethan messaged: “k”

I stared at the message and my left eye twitched. I huffed, growled, and then chuckled. I looked around the living room, running my front teeth against my bottom lip.

I nodded, saying, “K.” I smiled as my brows furrowed. “Just ‘k’.”

I typed multiple messages, each one more aggressive than the previous, but I didn’t send them. My right leg bounced and I stared at the message ‘k.’

“Is he serious?”

I walked around the couch. “That’s all you have to say, Ethan? ‘k’?” I glared at the message. “It’s not even capitalized.”

I gripped my phone and replied: “Are you coming over?”

I sat on the couch and waited. Squid Game played in the background and I lowered the volume.

Three minutes went by and I clicked my tongue. “Really?”

I threw my phone across the couch. Fine, if he wasn’t going to talk, then whatever. I grabbed the pillow, squeezing it, and watched Squid Game. I tried my hardest to focus, but I glanced at my phone every so often.

I reached for my phone but pulled back. “I can’t believe him.” I took a breath and focused on the show.

I’d been getting into Korean dramas lately and they were really good. That was all my mother ever watched. She was also a massive BTS fan. My phone pinged and I leapt to it.

Ethan replied: “Yeah.”

“It took you ten freaking minutes to only say ‘yeah’!” I snarled, then screamed into the pillow.

I messaged: “Did you still want to watch Harry Potter? Were you hanging out with Brandy and Tristan?”

I stared at my phone, waiting for a reply. Another ten minutes past and I screamed into the pillow again. He was doing this on purpose. It didn’t take this long to respond.

Ethan texted: “Yeah.”

I clenched my phone and chuckled as my shoulders tensed. I pointed at my phone, saying, “Freaking dick.” If you didn’t want to talk, then say it.

I pondered calling him, but I didn’t. Instead, I texted: “Okay. Text me when you’re leaving.”

Hours flew by and I re-watched the first episode of Squid Game three times because I couldn’t focus. It was 7:45 PM. I checked my phone. I had sent my last message at 3 PM.

I walked to the kitchen. My chest tightened, my stomach felt queasy, and my legs were wobbly. It was difficult to breathe, and I walked to the kitchen’s window and opened it, trying to inhale the fresh air.

“If you’re upset, then say it. Open your mouth.”

I leaned against the kitchen sink and glanced at the message ‘k.’ My fingers trembled a little. We were supposed to spend the day together.

The sun was setting and it was breathtaking. The warm oranges faded into a deep crimson. My eyes watered, and I walked to my room and lay on the bed.

“Ethan,” I whispered, wiping my moist eyes. “Ethan.”

I rolled to my side and tucked my knees into my chest. The fan’s gentle rumbles were soothing. My blanket’s warmth hugged me. I felt like a truck had hit me and my eyes were heavy. I drifted off until I heard the doorbell ring.

I hopped out of bed and stormed to the door, my feet stomping. I jerked the door open and glared at Ethan.

“Hey,” he said, walking through the door.

I closed it and crossed my arms as he walked to the DVD cabinet. He glanced at me while grabbing the Harry Potter DVD box set.

“What?” he asked.

“Did you forget how to make sentences?” I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah.”

He began to load the DVD, but I snatched the box set from him and tossed it on the couch.

“My room, now,” I growled.

We entered my room and he leaned against my dresser, looking out the window. I glared at him, crossing my arms once more. He tapped the side of my dresser at a slow, even pace.

“Ethan!” I shouted.

“What?”

I got in his face. “Stop giving one-word replies. Talk!”

He continued facing the window while tapping the desk. I pushed him, forcing him to turn to me.

“Don’t push me!” he shouted.

“Or what?!” I got in his face, glaring. He glared back, balling his fist. He shook his head, then walked to the door.

“Whatever,” he whispered.

I cut him off. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

I pushed him back. “No, you’re not. What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” He pointed at himself. “What’s your problem? So you’re just going to pretend you weren’t acting like a total…” He paused, his jaw clenching.

“Like a total what, Ethan?”

“I’m leaving.”

I tried to stop him, but he pushed my hand away. “Stop hitting me, Taylor.”

“You’re not leaving! You just fucking got here!” I pointed in his face. He walked back to the dresser, huffing, and stared out the window.

My heart raged, my eyes fidgeted, my fingers tingled, and my face flushed. Ethan wasn’t looking at me or talking to me and I wanted to punch him.

“Why did you even come over?” I hissed. “You have such a nasty attitude.”

“I have an attitude?” he asked, digging his fingers into my dresser. “You have an attitude every day.”

My jaw dropped. “Well, if you think I’m such a bitch, why did you come here? If you hate my attitude so much, why did you stay the night?”

“I didn’t want to.”

I smirked. “You can’t stand your bitchy girlfriend. You’re right, I’m a total bitch.”

“I didn’t call you that.”

“Then what am I, Ethan? A total what?”

“Jerk,” he said. “Taylor, you know I don’t like having sex with you when you’re that drunk and I’m not.”

“I wasn’t drunk! I knew what I was doing!” I shouted.

“You couldn’t drive, you were slurring your words, and stumbling all over the place.”

“I sent an explicit photo to you. I knew what I was doing. I can tell you everything that happened that night. I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Whatever.”

He tapped the dresser and stared out the window. We remained in silence for about 30 minutes. I began to talk again, trying to explain myself. However, he didn’t respond at all. I walked closer, but he turned his back to me.

“Fine,” I huffed and sat on my bed, going through my phone. He kept his back turned.

What the hell was his problem? If he was going to be a stuck-up asshole, he shouldn’t have come. We remained in silence for a long time. He tapped my dresser, and I lay down, rolling to the other side of the bed.

“Fine,” I thought to myself. “Just leave.”

My chest felt tight and my jaw was numb. I hated this feeling. I just wanted to talk. I… I. Ethan walked away from the dresser, and I lifted my head to observe. Time felt so slow, and he felt so far away, although we were in the same room.

I called out to him, but my throat was too dry to make a sound. My doorknob clicked, and the door opened slowly. I wanted to stop him, but I was frozen. My spaghetti legs wouldn’t move. My words were caught in the back of my throat, and tension pressed me against the bed.

“Stay,” I thought.

He ambled through the door, and with all the energy I had, I whispered, “Don’t leave.”

My whisper was so faint and barely audible, but in the overwhelming silence, it sounded like a cannon went off. Ethan stopped, one foot out of the room, the other foot remaining inside.

I swallowed. “Do you want me to beg?” I coughed a little. “Don’t leave me, Ethan.”

My voice sounded desperate, like a dog in heat. What the hell was wrong with me? I sounded so pathetic, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want him to leave.

“Ethan, you promised you would stay with me. Don’t leave me. I’m sorry.”

He turned to me, his brown eyes soft. My pulse quickened, and I squeezed my legs together, panting and biting my lip.

His face grew flushed, and his eyes surveyed my body. His breathing was jagged, and his mouth opened a little. I squirmed and held my hand out.

“Come here, Ethan,” I called, my voice low and breathy. Ethan closed the door and continued toward me. “Lock the door first.” He did as I asked.

As he approached the bed, he stumbled over my shoes. I smiled, holding back my laughter. He looked around as if wondering if anyone saw.

“It’s just you and me,” I said. “Come here, clumsy.”

He sat on the bed, and I sat on top of him, facing him.

“Taylor,” he whispered, running his fingers along my lower back and spine. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him.