"Ethan!"
He was just pulling his bike out of the garage when the voice stopped him.
He turned—
Zara.
For a second, he didn't expect it.
"Oh… Zara."
She walked toward him, casual on the outside, but her steps weren't as steady as she wanted them to be.
"I've been trying to catch you," she said lightly. "But 'Mr. Painter' is always busy… or pretending not to see me."
Ethan gave a small, unreadable look.
The bike engine was already running, a low hum filling the silence between them.
"What is it?" he asked.
Straight. No warmth.
Zara felt that.
Still—she smiled.
"If Mr. Painter isn't too proud…" she said, tilting her head slightly, keeping her tone playful,
"…would you let me treat you to lunch today?"
There it was.
She said it.
Out loud.
For a brief second, her heart tightened—waiting.
Ethan looked at her properly now.
Too long.
Long enough to make her wonder if she made a mistake.
"…That sounds nice," he said.
Her chest lifted—just a little.
Then—
"I'm not free today."
Simple. Calm.
Final.
The small hope she had—
Gone just like that.
Zara blinked once, quickly.
"Oh… okay."
Ethan adjusted his gloves, already half turned away.
"I've got things to do," he added. "Maybe some other time."
But he didn't ask when.
Didn't ask how.
Didn't make it real.
Zara felt it clearly now.
This wasn't bad timing.
This was distance.
Still—
She nodded.
"Yeah… sure. Another time."
Like it didn't matter.
Like she didn't just put herself out there.
Ethan got on his bike.
"I'll see you around."
He didn't wait for a reply.
The engine roared—
And he was gone.
⸻
Zara stood there.
Still smiling.
For a second longer than necessary.
Then it slowly faded.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
Her chest felt tight—
Not broken.
Just…
Embarrassed.
Exposed.
"…Why did I even do that?" she muttered quietly.
She let out a small breath, shaking her head like she could brush it off.
But the feeling stayed.
Because no matter how normal she tried to act—
He had made it clear.
There was a distance between them.
And she was the only one trying to close it.
It was Friday night.
Maya and her best friend, Zara, were having a movie night at Maya's apartment. They had planned a full marathon, but the movies had long become background noise. On the TV, Ginny & Georgia played to an empty room while the two of them talked nonstop, catching up on everything.
The doorbell rang, cutting through their laughter.
Maya got up and opened the door—only to find Daniel and Ethan standing there.
"What are you guys doing here?" she asked, surprised. "You didn't even call."
"We're friends, aren't we? We don't need an invite," Daniel said with a grin as he walked right past her.
Ethan followed, a little more hesitant. He gave Maya a small, awkward nod, already sensing the tension in the room.
Daniel, completely at ease, headed straight for the fridge and grabbed two beers, handing one to Ethan.
"Hey! My beer stash is almost gone," Daniel complained.
"Don't you have any shame?" Maya shot back. "The ones you bought are long gone. Those are mine—you better pay me back! …Ethan, make yourself at home, okay?"
Zara froze the moment she saw him.
After what happened that morning at the garage, her nerves were still unsettled. She tried to look busy, but her eyes kept drifting back to him as he took a slow sip of his beer.
Then—
Ethan looked up.
Their eyes met.
Zara immediately looked away, her heart starting to race.
"What are you two even doing here?" she asked, trying to sound annoyed instead of nervous. "You're ruining our girl talk."
"We're staying the night, right, Ethan?" Daniel laughed.
Ethan glanced at Zara, his expression unreadable.
"Yeah. We couldn't find anyone else to spend time with tonight."
"Oh, so we're your last resort?" Maya teased as she set snacks on the table. "We didn't even need you here."
She looked at Ethan, and he gave a small, dry smirk.
"It's better than talking about people behind their backs," Daniel added. "Besides, we're funnier and better-looking than any boyfriends you could find."
"You guys can't even keep a steady girlfriend," Maya shot back. "You fall for every girl you see… right, Zara?"
Daniel cleared his throat quickly, changing the subject.
"Anyway, the Summer Festival is tomorrow. We should all go. Ethan is showing his paintings there. Zara, you should display your work too."
"I don't really do that," Zara said quietly. "I'm too busy with the shop."
"Well, at least come and support him?" Daniel suggested.
"She doesn't like paintings," Ethan cut in sharply. "She won't want to come."
Zara felt heat rise to her face.
The rejection from the morning was still fresh—and his tone now was even colder.
"Really? You don't like paintings?" Maya asked, confused.
Zara let out a small breath, forcing a faint smile.
"Oh, I know about Ethan's paintings," she said, her voice edged with quiet bitterness. "Especially the one with the tulips. You must have been thinking of someone very special when you painted those…"
Ethan met her gaze. His eyes were cold. Distant.
"Of course," he said calmly. "They were my mother's favorite flowers."
The words hit Zara hard.
A lie.
They both knew it.
But he said it so easily.
A sharp pain settled in her chest.
Without saying anything, she lifted her beer and finished it in one long gulp, her grip tightening around the bottle as she stared at him.
"Zara… is something going on between you two?" Maya asked, sensing the sudden tension.
Ethan didn't give her a chance to answer.
He leaned back, his voice low, almost mocking.
"Why would a girl like her care about a 'mediocre painter' like me?"
His eyes stayed on Zara.
"Right?"
Fuck you.
Zara stood up abruptly from the sofa, the sudden movement nearly knocking over the beer bottles.
"I need the washroom," she said shortly, walking away before anyone could see the tears forming in her eyes.
Ethan watched her leave.
He knew the alcohol was loosening his tongue—making him say things harsher than he intended.
But as he took another slow drink, one thought settled in his mind.
He didn't regret it.
Maya and Daniel exchanged a look, their suspicion growing.
"Oh, man," Daniel muttered, nudging Ethan. "You really hurt her feelings. Go apologize."
⸻
Inside the bathroom, Zara stood in front of the mirror.
She quickly wiped away a tear, her chest tightening with frustration.
"God… I'm so weak," she whispered. "Why do I let him get to me like this?"
She turned on the tap and splashed cold water on her face, trying to hide the redness.
Just as she reached for a towel—
A soft knock.
"Zara?"
Ethan's voice.
"Open the door… please."
She hesitated for a second.
Then opened it.
She didn't look at him. Her eyes stayed on the floor.
"What is it?"
Ethan stood there quietly, like he wasn't sure how to start.
"…About earlier," he said at last. "I'm sorry."
Zara let out a small, bitter breath.
"You don't have to pretend," she said, her voice slightly shaking. "I know you enjoyed that."
Ethan frowned faintly, caught off guard.
He didn't argue.
Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief, holding it out to her.
Zara hesitated, then took it.
"…Thanks."
Ethan stepped inside and sat on the edge of the bathtub, running a hand through his hair.
He looked tired.
Really tired.
Zara stood there, still holding the handkerchief, stealing a quick glance at him.
Being this close again felt… strange.
Familiar.
Dangerous.
"Ethan…?"
"Yeah?"
She swallowed.
"I'm sorry."
He looked up, confused.
"For what?"
"For… back then," she said quietly. "In high school."
Ethan's expression changed.
His jaw tightened slightly as he looked away.
"That was a long time ago."
Zara nodded, but didn't say anything more.
There was so much she wanted to explain—
but the words just wouldn't come out.
The silence between them grew heavy.
Not empty.
Just… full of things they couldn't say.
"Ethan…?" she tried again, softer this time.
"Hmm?"
"…Can we at least be friends?"
She finally looked at him properly.
Careful. Unsure.
Ethan met her eyes.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The air felt different now.
Closer.
Quieter.
Zara's lips parted slightly as she tilted her head—just a little.
Ethan's gaze dropped without thinking.
He leaned in.
Slowly.
Carefully.
They were close now—
Too close.
Then—
Ethan pulled back.
Too fast.
"I should go," he said, his voice rough.
He stood up immediately, not looking at her again.
And walked out.
⸻
Zara stayed where she was, frozen.
A short laugh escaped her, empty and quiet.
She looked down at the handkerchief still in her hand, turning it slowly between her fingers.
Then she took a breath and followed him out.
⸻
"Hey, man, I'm heading out," Ethan said, grabbing his jacket.
"I'm worried about Sasha."
Zara stopped.
That name again.
Her eyes lifted to him.
For a brief second—
They looked at each other.
Then Ethan looked away first.
"Alright, man," Daniel mumbled from the sofa, half-asleep. "See you…"
Maya wasn't drunk.
Not even close.
She sat there quietly, her eyes narrowed, watching Zara with a look full of questions and suspicion.
Zara tried to ignore her best friend's intense gaze. She knew Maya better than anyone, and she could practically hear the gears turning in her head.
Sasha?