lost; ethma

nine

song:
boy- charlie puth

ethan

i rummage through my shit to try and organize my apartment before liam and god knows who else gets here.

remember how i mentioned liam was coming over for a beer and baseball tonight? yep, that's still happening. amidst all of the chaos of grayson being infuriated with me.

he's also bringing olivia, and possibly even amanda.

i just keep silently praying that emma doesn't tag along.

as im trying so desperately to clean up my apartment, i hear my phone start ringing.

i walk over and pick it up off the counter, just to see it's a random phone number. i answer, because why the hell not?

"hello?"

"heyyyy ethan," a feminine voice coos.

holy shit. i immediately recognize the voice.

blondie.

the young woman i hooked up with the night i came in town, following with emma giving me a ride home the next day. i suddenly regret answering the phone call.

we somehow must have exchanged numbers, yet i didn't save hers in my contacts (most likely because i didn't remember her name, and it would be distasteful to name it blondie).

"hey, what's up?" i ask.

"oh, nothing..." she lingers. "i was wondering what you were doing tonight."

"actually, i'm having a couple of friends over to watch baseball and have a few beers," i say. please god don't come over.

"ooh!" she excitedly says. "i loveee beer and baseball."

the extended "loveeeeeee" shows me that she would also love to be here. how can i shoot that down?

"you should come and join us then," i wince, and mentally smack myself. so codependent. i really need to work on that.

"i'll be there! what time?" blondie asks.

"probably around seven," i say. everyone is supposed to get here at 6:30, but she can wait another half hour.

i eventually give her my address and get off the phone, right as i hear a knock at the door.

what now?

i trudge over there and look through the peephole, seeing olivia.

it's only 5:45, what is she so early for?

i open the door. "did you not get the time memo? plus, aren't you coming with liam?"

"yup," she says as she walks in my apartment. my eyes follow her, trying to figure out what 'yup' applies to in my questions.

"okay..."

"i wanted to talk to you," olivia states.