Chapter 4

The whole ride was dead silent.

I huddled in the passenger seat the whole time like a frightened rabbit, not daring to make a sound or look at Ethan, even breathing carefully.

The car cruised smoothly through the late-night streets. Harbor City's night view was beautiful, but I was in no mood to appreciate it.

Sophie's voice message kept looping in my mind, and every word felt like a needle pricking my heart.

This was peak embarrassment. And of all people, it had to be Ethan who saw it.

I could almost picture him thinking, 'Come on, Ryan's little sister is really out of line.'

As we waited at the red light, Ethan broke the silence in the car. "That guy from high school who was always pestering you... Do you still talk to him?"

I froze for a moment before I realized who he meant.

Henry Chase. He was the guy who relentlessly chased me all through high school. Big and tall, totally obsessive, he'd linger outside my classroom every day, and no matter what I did, I couldn't get rid of him.

I shook my head, my voice barely more than a whisper, "We haven't talked in forever. I don't have a boyfriend."

Thinking about high school brought back that whole embarrassing fiasco, whether I wanted it to or not.

Back then, I was a sophomore. Henry grabbed my arm in the hallway and wouldn't let go, demanding I agree to be his girlfriend.

I struggled to break free, on the verge of tears.

And that's when Ryan walked by and saw the whole thing.

Ryan was a senior back then, with his brother instincts dialed up to max and a temper to match. He dashed over, dragged Henry away from me, and planted himself right in front of me, eyes blazing. "Who are you? You dare touch my sister?"

Henry wasn't about to back down. He squared his shoulders and yelled, "I'm her boyfriend. Mind your own business."

That line was all it took to light Ryan's fuse. The two of them started brawling right in the middle of the hallway.

I was so freaked out I simply froze. When I tried to pull Ryan back, he thought I was siding with Henry and pushed me away, furious.

I lost my balance and started tipping backward.

When I thought I was about to take a nasty spill, a strong arm caught me around the waist and pulled me into a safe, warm embrace.

It was Ethan. He arrived a moment after Ryan, but caught me perfectly.

His crisp scent enveloped me, and my heartbeat sounded loud in my ears.

I fell into his arms, my cheek against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat and the warmth radiating from him.

Ryan and Henry both stopped mid-fight and shouted together, "Let her go."

Ethan smoothly released me, gently helped me stand steady, then gave them a calm look. "Don't fight in the hallway," he said lightly. "You'll get detention."

That was the first time I'd ever been so close to him.

His embrace was steady and reassuring, and he smelled faintly of laundry detergent, as clean as a summer breeze.

After that, every time I saw him, I'd instinctively blush and avoid him.

I never expected that, after all these years, he'd actually still remember that.

Ethan totally picked up on how awkward I was feeling and dropped the subject. He started chatting about lighter stuff, like northern weather and Harbor City's food scene, making sure not to bring up anything that might make things weird for me.

He really knew how to handle people's feelings. Soft-spoken and thoughtful, never overstepping, always exactly right.

When we finally pulled up to my apartment complex, I practically bolted out of the car.

"Thanks for dropping me off. Drive safe." I blurted, barely able to look at Ethan.

Without waiting for a reply, I shoved the door open, grabbed my suitcase, and sprinted into the complex, not daring to glance back.

Once I was safely inside the building, I leaned against the wall, gasping for air, my heart pounding like crazy.

God, that was mortifying. I swore right then and there. Never again would I let myself be alone with Ethan.

Our lives were never meant to overlap; this was merely a total fluke.

Back home, I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. The events of the night kept replaying in my mind.

His icy, handsome profile, that deep, soothing voice, the perfect amount of gentleness, and then that voice message, puremortification on loop.

Introvert joy? Yeah, right. More like introvert meltdown.

I hugged my pillow, silently wailing to myself: Stella, can you get it together for once?