Chapter Two: The Invitation:
The next day, I couldn't shake the memory of Ethan's face when I left his house. It was a weird feeling, one I wasn't used to. He had acted like nothing was wrong, but something in his eyes told me otherwise. Maybe it was the way he seemed so eager to escape back inside, or the way he barely met my gaze before saying good night.
That night, I had tried to shake the thought off, but I couldn't. Something about him—the vulnerability behind that confident exterior—made me want to know more. I couldn't ignore it anymore. I wasn't just annoyed by him. I was concerned.
The next day at school, I kept expecting him to show up, to sit next to me in class, to argue with me over answers like we always did. But he didn't.
He didn't show up at all.
I spent the entire morning feeling unsettled, trying to focus on my work, but my thoughts kept drifting back to him. Why wasn't he here? Was something wrong? The bell rang for lunch, and I found myself staring at the door, waiting for him to walk through. But nothing.
By the end of the day, I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to know what was going on.
I gathered every ounce of courage I had, convinced myself I was overthinking it, and after school, I walked straight to his house. My heart raced in my chest. What if I was making a bigger deal out of it? But the worry gnawed at me, and I couldn't let it go.
I knocked on the door, and a few moments later, Ethan opened it. His eyes widened when he saw me standing there. He immediately took a step back, looking as if I had just caught him in the middle of something he didn't want to deal with.
"Aria," he said, his voice colder than usual. "What are you doing here?"
"I—" I faltered for a moment, suddenly unsure of myself. "I just... I wanted to check on you. You didn't come to school today, and... well, I was worried."
He didn't respond immediately, but I could see the embarrassment in his eyes. His hands gripped the doorframe tightly, as if he were trying to hold himself together. The silence stretched between us, and I could see the tension building.
"I'm fine," he finally muttered, though his words didn't convince me. "You shouldn't have come."
But I didn't back down. I stepped forward slightly, lowering my voice so he would hear the sincerity in it. "I know you're not fine. Something's going on, Ethan. You can't keep pushing people away."
He flinched, like my words had hit too close to home, but I wasn't about to let it go.
"Look," I continued, "if you won't talk to me here, then come to my house. Please. I just want to make sure you're okay."
Ethan hesitated, his eyes flicking away for a moment. I could see the internal battle he was having, whether to accept the offer or turn me away. But when he finally met my gaze again, I saw something in him soften.
"Fine," he said, his voice quieter this time. "I'll come."
I gave him a small nod, relieved that he agreed, but still feeling a knot of worry in my stomach. As we walked to my house, the awkward silence hung between us, but there was a subtle shift in the air. He was still distant, but I could tell he wasn't rejecting me completely.
When we reached my house, I led him inside and we sat down at the kitchen table. I made us some tea, the comforting sound of the kettle boiling helping to calm my nerves.
"So," I started, after handing him a cup. "You never told me what's going on. You didn't come to school today... Is everything okay?"
Ethan took a sip of the tea, then stared down at his cup, his expression guarded. "It's nothing. Really."
I raised an eyebrow, not buying it. "It doesn't seem like 'nothing.'"
He was silent for a long moment, before finally meeting my gaze. "It's just... stuff with my family," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
My heart sank. "What kind of stuff?"
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want to talk about it."
I didn't push him any further, but I could see the conflict in his eyes. He wanted to tell me, but something was stopping him.
For the first time, I saw him as more than just a rival or the boy who irritated me. Ethan had his own struggles—his own pain—and I could tell he wasn't the type to open up easily.
I sat quietly, letting the silence stretch out, giving him space. I didn't need to know everything right away. But what mattered now was that he was here, and he hadn't shut me out completely.
"You don't have to tell me everything," I said gently. "But if you ever need to talk, I'm here. And I mean it."
He looked at me for a moment, and I saw something flicker in his eyes. Maybe it was gratitude, maybe it was something else. But I could tell that, just maybe, he was starting to trust me.
"Thanks," he said quietly, his voice carrying an unfamiliar softness.
And in that moment, I realized that this—whatever this was between us—wasn't just about rivalry or school. It was something more. Something real.