Chapter 11 – A Line Redrawn

Sarah stood frozen, her breath uneven as reality settled over her like a heavy blanket. The warmth of Ethan's lips still lingered on hers, his touch branded into her skin. She hadn't planned for this. She hadn't wanted this—or at least, she had convinced herself she didn't.

But then why wasn't she pulling away faster?

Ethan didn't move either. His hands remained at her waist, his eyes locked onto hers, searching. Waiting.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "We shouldn't have done that."

Ethan's expression didn't change. He simply held her gaze, steady and unshaken. "Why not?"

Sarah let out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking her head as she stepped back. "Because it complicates things."

Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "You keep saying that. But what if it doesn't have to?"

"It does," she insisted. "You're—you. And I'm me."

His lips quirked into a small smirk. "Brilliant observation."

She shot him a glare. "I'm serious, Ethan."

"So am I." His voice was calm, but there was something in his tone—something firm. "You keep putting walls between us. Why?"

Sarah turned away, wrapping her arms around herself. "Because walls keep things from falling apart."

Ethan took a slow step closer. "Or they keep things from happening at all."

She closed her eyes, willing herself to be rational. This was dangerous. He was dangerous—not in the way that meant harm, but in the way that meant change.

And Sarah wasn't sure she was ready for change.

"Look," Ethan said, his voice softer now. "I'm not asking for some grand declaration. I just… I need to know that I'm not the only one feeling this."

She hesitated.

He sighed, stepping back. "You know what? Never mind. I get it."

Her head snapped up. "Ethan—"

"It's fine," he said quickly, forcing a small smile. "Really." But the way his jaw clenched betrayed him.

Sarah wanted to say something—to fix it, to make it easier. But what could she say?

She watched as Ethan turned, rubbing the back of his neck before letting out a short laugh. "I'll see you in the morning."

And with that, he walked away.

Sarah stood there long after he was gone, her fingers still tingling where he had touched her.

Damn it.

---

Later That Night

Sarah tossed and turned, sleep refusing to come. Her mind was a mess of emotions, her heart pounding too fast.

When she finally gave up, she slipped out of bed and padded down the hall, hoping a glass of water would settle her nerves.

But as she reached the kitchen, she stopped short.

Ethan was already there, standing by the counter, a glass of whiskey in hand. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his hair slightly tousled as he stared at the liquid like it held the answers to all of life's problems.

At the sound of her footsteps, he looked up.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, voice low.

Sarah shook her head, stepping toward the sink. "You?"

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Too much on my mind."

She filled her glass with water and leaned against the counter opposite him. For a moment, they simply existed in the quiet, the tension from earlier still lingering between them.

Then Ethan spoke. "Are we just going to pretend that didn't happen?"

Sarah swallowed, gripping her glass a little tighter. "I don't know."

Ethan's fingers tapped against his whiskey glass. "Do you regret it?"

She hesitated. "I… I don't know."

He nodded slowly, as if that answer was enough.

But it wasn't.

And they both knew it.

"Ethan," she started, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "This is dangerous."

He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You think I don't know that?"

"Then why—"

"Because I don't care," he cut in, his voice gentle but firm. "I don't care about the rules, or what's expected, or what people think. I just care about what's real."

Sarah's breath hitched.

Ethan set his glass down, stepping closer. "Tell me you don't feel anything, and I'll walk away. I won't bring it up again."

She parted her lips, ready to say the words. Ready to lie.

But she couldn't.

Instead, she whispered, "Ethan…"

His hand brushed against hers, the touch featherlight. "One step at a time," he murmured. "That's all I'm asking."

Sarah stared at him, at the man standing before her—honest, patient, waiting.

Then, slowly, she pulled her hand away.

Not in rejection.

But in hesitation.

"Goodnight, Ethan," she said softly before turning and walking away.

And this time, he let her go.

But something told her it wasn't over.

Not by a long shot.