i think it's love | ethma

two

After muttering a few curses, Emma shifts in the seat until she finds a semi-comfortable position, and eventually even the obnoxious volume of music isn't enough to keep her alert. She drifts off a little bit despite herself, letting her head fall onto her shoulder.

It's a minute or two after this that she hears the ear-splitting level of the music go down considerably in volume.

Curious, she opens her lids infinitesimally to see what's happening. Ethan has his fingers on the knob, turning it down slowly; then he glances at Emma— she shuts her eyes quickly for a moment before reopening them— and he turns off the radio all together.

Well, that's... interesting.

The rest of the ride is completely silent, save for the sound of Ethan munching on an apple. She's pretty sure he throws the core out the open window after he's done but she's not awake enough to berate him on his poor composting technique.

A few minutes later, she feels the truck pulling into the driveway of her house, wheels running over that familiar bump in the asphalt, and the engine falling silent. Her eyes remain closed, and she waits for Ethan to order her out of the vehicle.

He doesn't.

There's a minute of silence, actually, before he releases a sigh and unbuckle his seatbelt. Then she hears him climb out of the driver's side and the door falling shut heavily behind him. She doesn't hear anything for a few moments; and just as curiosity gets the better of her and she's about to open her eyes, the door on her side opens.

She can't see him, since she's curled up with her back to him, but she hears his steady rate of breathing for a few seconds before suddenly there's hands sliding beneath her back and under the crook of her knees. Before she can properly grasp what's happening, he's lifted her up like that. She lets her muscles stay relaxed, head lolling, because she's rather curious as to what he'll do. He seems to buy that she's asleep because then he's moving.

With some difficulty, it seems, he manages to close the truck door, and he carries her like that into her house using the key in her boot (how on earth did he know it was there?), up the stairs, and to her room. There, he lowers her slowly onto the mattress, one hand supporting her head to gently let it fall the small distance to the pillow. She thinks that's it. But then she feels the back of his warm fingers gently brushing against her cheek, and it's so uncharacteristic, so unexpected, that she flinches at the contact.

His fingers still immediately. "Emma? You awake?" His voice feels too big for the small, dark room.

She sighs inwardly. The gig is up. She makes a show of blinking her eyes open blearily and stretching her arms and legs out. "Ethan?" she sighs, and maybe it's just the alcohol affecting her but he looks really, really delicious in that shirt.

He looks a little amused at the show, but straightens up from where he was leaning over her. "You need to sleep it off."

She pouts in the most petulant way possible. "I'm not drunk."

Maybe it's just the fact that she is, but his gaze seems remarkably fond to her as he makes to turn away. "Right."

Well, he isn't getting away that easily. Emma's legs wrap around his torso and her ankles hook behind his back, reeling him back in. He's clearly not expecting that, if the way his eyes widen with surprise is any indication. "Where are you going?" she pouts a little sleepily, and yes, maybe she's a little more inebriated right now than she thought.

He sighs and reiterates. "Emma, you're drunk."

She frowns and pulls him forward with her legs suddenly. He's not prepared. To prevent himself from falling on top of her, he has to brace himself, hands planting on her mattress on either side of her. Leaning over Emma closer than before.

Emma distantly notes his lips, very pink and very inviting, are mere inches away. And she can see the warmer flecks of green in his otherwise brown eyes from here.

His voice is lower than usual and a little strained. "Emma, let go."

His eyes are pretty, she decides, and reaches a hand up to run a finger over an errant lock that has fallen over his forehead. It's just as silky as it looks. She sighs loudly. "You're sooo pretty."

Despite himself, his mouth ticks up. "That right, Em?"

She shivers at the nickname. "I loooove it when you say Em," she tells him. She'll regret that later, she knows.

"Noted."

She nods fast. "Yeah. It just rollsssss of your tongue. It sounds so good, Ethan," she murmurs, tossing her head back and watching him through half-open lids.

His amused grin fades and he swallows visibly, trying again to push off the bed. This time he reaches behind him to gently uncross her ankles, and she doesn't stop him.

He's halfway to the door when she whispers, "Stay."

He stops in his tracks but doesn't turn around.

She doesn't know what came over her. She doesn't even like the guy. They're adversaries in every sense of the word. And yet, the words fly right out of her mouth. "I don't want to be alone right now." She sounds more pitiful than even she'd bargained for.

She can't be sure, but he seems to be fighting with himself for a few seconds, standing stock still, before he turns back around, expression inscrutable. "I'll leave the 'cuddling with sad drunken Emma' part to your boyfriend, I think."

She stares at him, mouth agape. Did he really go there?

His lips twist into an ugly smile. "But Mark isn't here, is he?" When she doesn't answer, he shrugs and walks towards the door. "Too bad."

There's a beat where she's just shocked, but then she's out of it and just angry. "You're such an asshole!" she slur-shouts at his retreating back. She throws a pillow at him, and surprisingly it actually hits its target (his back) as he closes the door. His quiet laughter and his murmured, "You'll miss me when I'm gone," is the only response she gets before the door clicks shut.

She lies there fuming in the dark for a few seconds, listening to his footsteps pad off not downstairs, but just down the hall. He knows all her fucking buttons, and that her biggest one these days is Mark. God, how she hates Ethan Dolan.

He's the most infuriating person alive, and the fact that they live under the same roof probably makes it about ten times more.