TORI'S POV
"I love you, Victoria Martinez."
The words hung in the air between them, so sudden and bare that her mind went completely blank.
They had barely known each other for what—a month?
Before she could form a response, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.
It was soft, warm, and deliberate. Unlike their accidental first kiss or the rushed goodbye in her apartment, this one carried intention. He meant it. Every second of it. And she let him kiss her, her body leaning into his before her brain had time to catch up.
When he pulled away, the sorrow had returned to his eyes, dark and heavy, and it made her chest ache. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, the words barely audible, unsure what else she could say.
Did she love him back? She liked him—she’d admitted that to herself already. She was definitely attracted to him. Being near him made her heart race in ways no one else ever had. But love? She didn’t even know what that was supposed to feel like.
“You don’t have to say it back,” Ethan said quietly, as if reading her thoughts. “I just needed you to know.”
She nodded against his shoulder, relieved he wasn’t pushing her for something she wasn’t ready to give.
“I confronted my dad,” he said after a moment, his voice steadier now. “After I found out he pulled me from the championship team.”
“What happened?” she asked, even though she could guess from the state he’d been in when she found him.
Ethan inhaled deeply. “I told him everything. How I felt about being blamed for Mom’s death. How I was done letting him control my life.” His voice cracked slightly. “I even told him he was the one responsible for her death, not me.”
“That’s... intense,” she said, pulling back to search his face.
“Do you think I did wrong?” he asked, and uncertainty crept into his eyes like a shadow.
She shook her head firmly. “No. It was high time you let it all out. Your dad will realize his mistakes and come apologizing soon.”
Ethan let out a humorless laugh, leaning back against the couch. “He’s a proud man. He’ll never apologize.”
“More proud than you?” she teased, nudging his side gently. That earned her a small, reluctant smile.
“Don’t worry, he’ll come around,” she added, surprised by the quiet confidence in her voice. “Just know he still loves you. So forgive him when he does.”
Ethan stared up at the ceiling, silent for so long she began to wonder if he had even heard her.
“I wanted to hate him,” he said at last, his voice soft. “But I just couldn’t. While I was driving home, I realized… his love for her was what pushed him to accuse me. He couldn’t accept that she was gone. He needed someone to blame.”
“Were they in love?” she asked, genuinely curious, trying to understand what shaped him.
“Very much,” he said, a sad smile playing at his lips. “Like kids, really. But they fought a lot. He spent less time at home. It broke her. She was sick, and he wasn’t there for her. She died without him ever asking for her forgiveness. And he’s been suffering ever since.”
The raw pain in his voice stirred something deep in her chest. She didn’t know how to fix what he carried, but she wanted to. And before she could talk herself out of it, she found herself sharing something she rarely ever did.
"My parents are divorced," I said abruptly. "But my mom is getting married to someone else next month. That was why I screamed this morning when you came running in. I got the wedding invitation."
Ethan's mouth dropped open. "I thought you were an orphan?"
"That's what I tell people," I admitted, looking down at my hands. "It's easier than explaining the truth—that my mom left when I was ten and my dad dropped me off at my aunt's house a year later because he 'couldn't handle it.' My aunt raised me until I was sixteen, then I was basically on my own."
"Tori, I'm so sorry," he said, reaching for my hand.
"It's fine. I had good teachers, coaches who believed in me. Volleyball saved me, really." I shrugged, trying to seem casual about it. "Anyway, I haven't spoken to my mom in years, so the invitation was... unexpected."
"Are you going to go?"
"I don't know." The truth is, I'd shredded the invitation immediately after reading it. "Probably not."
We sat in silence for a while, his hand still holding mine. It felt good, sharing these pieces of ourselves. Connecting beyond the physical attraction that's been simmering between us.
"It's getting late," I said eventually, glancing at the clock. "I should head home."
"You could stay," Ethan suggests, his eyes hopeful. "I can take the couch."
"No, I should go," I insist, standing up. "I have an early class tomorrow."
"Let me drive you at least."
"It's okay. I can grab a cab."
He got up too, looking more like himself now. "Why? Am I not allowed to drive my girlfriend home?"