The story of Tyler and me went way beyond any clichéd story of walking in on your boyfriend and catching him cheating red-handed. He was on the couch, lying naked on top of someone. I heard a moan, and my gasping caught their attention. That’s when another chick – also naked – came walking out of our bathroom, asking Tyler where his other box of condoms was because they were all out.

“Um, sir?” Ethan speaks up somewhere behind me. I don’t move as my eyes narrow and peek sideways until I can see him. He’s still here. I can’t tell if I’m excited or mad that the dark- haired god who arrived earlier today is back in the middle of the night. Attacking me like some crazed lunatic.

I watch as Ethan runs a hand through his hair and lets out a breath. What’s he doing here anyway? And where is his shirt? I take a quick glance and swallow hard. Never mind. The shirt can stay gone.

His eyes don’t look cold anymore—just the opposite, almost as if he feels sorry for me. How can someone show so many emotions with just their eyes? They have that added extra sparkle to them that you only read about in books. I smile at him and his face quickly falls to confusion.

Wait.

I’m pissed at this guy. I’m still standing here only because of him. I give Ethan another dirty look that quickly fades when he starts to laugh. Damn it. If I don’t get my thoughts in check, he will never take me seriously at work.

“Young man, it’s probably best you head home. This doesn’t concern you.”

He can’t be serious.

“It sure as hell concerns him.” I shift my body and point at the culprit. “He attacked me while I was trying to get inside. You should be arresting him, not sending him home.”

“Attack you? I was saving these people,” – he points to The Palace of Beige – “the hassle of dealing with a robbery when they get home,” Ethan says.

Mr. Maron steps off the road and into the grass to approach us. He releases a small laugh.

“What happened here? Who robbed who?” he asks, confused.

“He attack—”

“She was break—”

Oh, Ethan did not just cut me off. I glare at him and practically growl when Mr. Maron cuts us both off.

“Whoa now,” he says and holds his arms out at his sides, warning us to keep our distance. Probably a good idea at this point, since I’m so angry I’m sure they can see the flames shooting from my eyes. Mr. Maron looks at me. “Kelsey, why are you here?”

Dang right, he should ask me first.

“I’m housesitting and forgot my key. I left the back window open and was making my way to it when this guy attacked me.” I cross my arms again and with a smirk I give Ethan a look that tells him this is over. He shouldn’t even try to argue his way out of it. Ethan raises an eyebrow that clearly accepts the challenge. My smirk vanishes and my breathing picks up.

Mr. Maron nods his head, pulling a small notebook from his back pocket and removing the pen from the collar of his shirt.

“Alright, what’s your name, son, and why are you here?” His voice sounds sterner this time.

“Ethan Connelly, and I live in that house.” He sounds annoyed as he points to the dark green, not beige, house directly across the street. He lives there? “Some weird noises woke me up, and when I looked out the window, I saw this chick trying to climb this fence. I assumed she was breaking in.”

First I’m an it and now I’m some chick?

I give a sarcastic laugh and roll my eyes. My name must have just slipped his mind.

Mr. Maron shakes his head, releasing an aggravated breath.

“Next time, call the police. You can go home now. I can handle things from here.”

The thought of being left alone with my ex’s father worries me. He will ask questions and I’ll stay quiet, just like I always do. We were practically family, and now it hurts too much to talk to him. For a brief moment I consider asking Ethan to stay. I open my mouth but he takes a step toward his house, giving me a winning grin. My body shudders. Cocky guys are so unattractive. Never mind that idea; I don’t need him. At the same time Ethan steps off the sidewalk, I turn for my car.

“Wait a minute, Kelsey. We still need to talk.”

Of course we do. Things can never be easy. My shoulders slump forward as I impatiently wait for a man who was practically my father-in-law to continue.

“It’s been awhile since I saw you last.” He pauses. “You know you’re always welcome in our home, Kelsey. If you ever want or need to talk…Emily and I are always here.” His voice is so gentle, and I know he means every word.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself before the waterworks start. For three years this man was more of a father to me than my own. Yes, it’s wrong of me to shut them out, but things are different now and I don’t want to be the crazy ex-girlfriend who still hangs out with her ex-boyfriend’s family. It doesn’t matter that Tyler is the one who invites me over half the time. Says he still wants to be friends because I am and will always be his best friend, but I don’t think I’m strong enough for that. I can’t trust myself to look at him and not miss what we had. What I had. A best friend I could tell anything to, who I thought I could trust to always be honest.

“I’m fine,” I say, forcing the words out of my mouth. It’s been long enough I shouldn’t let it affect me anymore.

He doesn’t say anything as he comes up behind me. He gives me a quick shoulder hug and then continues to the porch. He stops at the top of the steps, looking around. If he can find the hide-a-key for me, maybe I’ll talk.

I watch as he shines his flashlight around – a real one, searching every crack, corner, and flowerpot. At the door, he reaches for the knob, turns it slowly, and the door opens. My mouth drops open when he looks back at me with an “are you kidding me?” look that I choose not to respond to. I march right past him and shut the door once I’m inside. Thank goodness he didn’t find the hide-a-key.

Chapter Three

Kelsey

The clock next to my bed finally hits 7:00 a.m.. I toss the covers and slowly pull myself from the guest room’s king-size bed. Sleeping was difficult last night. I dozed off fast, but my mind wasted no time dreaming of Ethan and the way he looked in just a pair of shorts. That’s a lie. My mind dreamt more of what his body looked like without those shorts. His entire body looked so firm that if I ever bump into him, I might break something. I woke up after an hour, sweating and blushing at how real the dream felt. Then, I fell back to sleep and the process repeated itself over and over.

I pull a pair of sweats over my black Spandex, grab a hoodie, and lace my shoes. Running is the best way for me to gain a clear mind, and god knows I need to clear the shit out of it right now. I tie my hair up and don’t waste any time getting out the door. Since Ethan is successfully taking up every available inch of headspace, today’s run won’t be anything short of an hour.

* * *

I return to my parents’ house, shedding myself of my hoodie and sweats, leaving myself in only my Spandex and a sports bra to cool down. I stroll into the kitchen to fix myself a cup of coffee and a quick breakfast. Every Tuesday and Thursday I have my payroll class at nine in the morning and a creative writing class at one. I couldn’t care less about payroll, but I want to be 100 percent focused on creative writing.

I still have my headphones on as I pour myself a cup of coffee, so when my cellphone rings, it changes the song blaring music into my ears. I pull on the cord like my headphones are on fire.

“Hello,” I greet, quickly holding my phone a tiny way from my ears until they’ve stopped buzzing.

“Kelsey, what took you so long to answer and why do you sound out of breath? Is everything okay with the house?”

It should come as a surprise that my father would relate my shortness of breath to the house, not my life, being in danger, but it doesn’t. I‘m almost positive my father never wanted a daughter. Once I got my first bra, he never attempted to have a relationship with me, and he’s always favored my little brother. They are so close it’s disgusting. Sometimes I forget he’s our father and not one of my brother’s immature friends.