the hook-up. {ethma}

chapter 29

emma chamberlain

IT'S 10 P.M. ON a Friday night, and I'm at a club. On a date.

When Olivia insisted I needed to get out of my funk and go on a date, everything in me recoiled at the idea. But then I pictured Ethan's cold eyes meeting mine as he walked away with another girl. True, he gave me a birthday present, but his card said it all—he couldn't return it so it might as well have gone to me.

We are over, and I have to accept my mistake and move on.

Cameron is perfect. He's lithe and dark. His black jeans hug his legs as they disappear into his vintage Pumas. His lean chest is covered by a tattered Mr. Yuck t-shirt, which frowns at me as he leans back and takes a pull of his beer. We've been discussing the places we'd like to visit in London, and I'm having fun.

Well, as much fun as a girl can have with a goddamn hole in her chest. A fucking empty hole that won't go away. But maybe tonight will be the trick and I'll find a way to fill it back up. I absolutely don't surreptitiously rub a hand along my breastbone when Cameron turns his attention toward the stage. A band is about to perform, and the stage lights cast a halo of blue light over Cameron's black hair. Those glossy locks swing over his shoulders when he leans toward me, his breath holding a hint of beer as he talks in my ear. "I heard these guys are great."

I nod. I really don't know a thing about the band, but I'll take Cameron's word for it. He really is beautiful. Thick black lashes frame his blue eyes, and when he puts an arm around my shoulders?

I feel nothing.

I'm not willing to concede defeat. I don't move away when his warm fingers rest on the back of my neck. Pretty bold, considering we met about an hour before.

"So, how long have you known Olivia?" he asks me.

Cameron works at the Juice Shop with Olivis. She'd been trying hook Cameron up with me for months. I resisted because of Ethan. Who I will not think about tonight.

"We met freshman year." I take a sip of my beer. It's gone flat. "Orientation."

"Cool." He tosses back a lock of hair. It's such a perfect move, highlighting his sinewy muscles and showing off his glossy hair, that I wonder if he practices in the mirror. An insane, and unwelcome, impulse tempts me to ask if he plucks out half-assed versions of Crash Into You on the guitar.

I'm blinking rapidly into the stage lights when I see him. He's standing at the bar, and he's brought a friend. Although, by the way she rests her hand on his ass, I'm guessing 'friend' isn't the word I should use. He doesn't seem to mind her groping. His smile is slow and easy as he hands her a beer and leans in to hear whatever it is she needs to whisper in his ear. He laughs a little, the broad expanse of his shoulders shaking.

I should look away. But as usual, my neck doesn't want to obey. No, I just sit and watch as they chat and her hand becomes more familiar with his ass. It barely registers that Cameron is still playing with the edge of my shirt collar, the tips of his fingers gliding along my skin, or that he's talking about his favorite bands.

I need to make an effort to drag my attention back to my date. It would suck if Ethan saw me staring. I'm almost in the clear when Ethan turns, his gaze scanning the crowd in a lazy fashion, and his eyes lock on to me.

Caught, I can only stare back. He's more than twenty feet away. The air is hazy and dim. Heads bob and weave between us as people walk past the bar. And yet it's as if he's right in front of me.

Did he like the book?

Just as Ethan had, I'd bought it long ago. But, unlike Ethan, I was too chicken to give it to him. Until he'd given me my gift. I ought to have sucked it up and handed it to him in person, but I didn't have the guts to face him.