ETHAN'S POV
“Girlfriend?” Tori repeated, a small smile creeping across her face.
I didn’t wait for her answer, just leaned in and kissed her again.
This time she kissed me back without hesitation, and something inside me settled. Whatever we were, whatever label we put on it, it felt right.
“So is that a yes to the ride home?” I asked when we finally pulled apart.
She rolled her eyes but nodded. “Fine. But just a ride.”
The drive to her place was quiet, but comfortable. I kept stealing glances at her profile in the passenger seat.
After everything that had happened that day—the fight with my dad, getting kicked off the championship team—having Tori beside me felt like the one good thing in my life.
When we pulled up outside her building, neither of us moved to get out. I wasn’t ready to say goodnight, and from the way she lingered, I didn’t think she was either.
I turned to face her just as she quickly looked away, like she’d been caught staring.
“I’m missing you already,” I admitted.
She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “Will you be fine alone at your apartment?”
A smirk formed on my lips. “Are you offering me a space in your apartment?”
“What? No!” Her eyes widened, and I couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction. “I just wanted to be sure you’d be fine.”
“Then you should have agreed to stay the night,” I teased.
She shook her head, but I caught the tiny smile she was trying to hide. After a moment, she reached for the door handle. “Goodnight, Ethan.”
“Goodnight, my love.”
The term of endearment made her blush bright red, which only encouraged me to push further.
“The other night was superb,” I said, deliberately vague. “I hoped to have a recap of it soon.”
“Shut up!” She hit my shoulder playfully before jumping out of the car.
I rolled down the window as she walked away. “You were fucking sexy when you threw all caution to the wind and kissed me back. I couldn’t get it off my head.”
“Shut up and go home!” she called over her shoulder, practically racing up the stairs to her apartment.
I sat there grinning like an idiot, watching her window to see if she’d appear. When she didn’t, I finally started the car and headed back to my place.
The drive back felt longer and lonelier. Without Tori’s presence, all the day’s events came rushing back. The confrontation with my dad. His cold dismissal. The weight of three years of guilt and resentment that I’d finally unleashed.
By the time I reached my apartment, the lightness I’d felt with Tori had faded. I dragged myself up the stairs, dreading another night alone with my thoughts.
When I reached my door, I paused. It was slightly ajar, even though I distinctly remembered closing it when Tori and I left.
My first thought was a break-in. Maybe someone had seen me leave and decided my place was an easy target.
I pushed the door open slowly, careful not to make a sound. The lights were on inside. Definitely not how I’d left it.
I stepped inside cautiously, scanning for anything missing or out of place.
Nothing seemed disturbed, but there was definitely someone there—I could hear movement from the living room.
Moving silently through the hallway, I prepared to confront whoever had broken in. But as I reached the living room, I stopped short.
It wasn’t a burglar. It was my father.
He was standing in the middle of the room, looking around like he’d never seen the place before.
There was something different about his posture—none of the usual rigid confidence. He looked smaller and somehow defeated.
“Dad?” I called out, my voice sounding strange to my own ears.
He turned around slowly, and I was shocked to see tears rolling down his face.
My father, the man who told me real men didn’t cry, who hadn’t shown emotion since Mom’s funeral, was standing in my apartment, openly weeping.