summer romance (e.d.)

forty-nine

anna

my curtain bustle a little bit, and i hear a slight groan from outside my window.

i laugh a little bit and yell out, "did you run into the rose bush again?"

ethan's face pops up through the glass, and he nods, clutching his pointer finger. "a thorn stabbed me, an. you better let me in before i bleed to death."

smiling, i lift up the window that's usually open, and he crawls in. "i have bandaids. think that's enough?"

he pouts a little bit, still holding the finger that beads out red blood.

i pretend to take a closer look with a stricken face. "wow, bub. definitely gonna have to amputate it now. i have a butter knife in my kitchen drawer."

he laughs, pulling his finger away from my grasp. "shut up. you're not touching my finger. but i will take a bandaid."

i lead him to my bathroom and open the small closet filled with towels, medicine, shampoo, hand soap, and of course— bandaids.

"hold out your finger," i instruct and begin to tear off the packaging.

ethan does limply, and i roll my eyes as i wrap the bandage around the thorn cut.

"we have a history of putting bandaids on each other," ethan mumbles, inspecting the finger.

"speaking of that," i say. "how's my lip look? it started scabbing over yesterday."

he glances up at me, and squints his eyes at my lip. "hm. i can't see that well, can i get a closer look?"

"stop," i laugh. "that's such a bad transition. it almost makes me not want to kiss you."

"i heard nothing but the word almost," ethan teases, leaning in slowly.

i giggle and wait for the warm and invigorating feeling of his lips, but the sound of my phone dinging makes me gasp and pull back.

ethan looks confused as i slip out from under his hovering body and rush out of the bathroom, and into my room. he follows on my trail as i throw around my bed covers, just trying to find my phone.

"what's wrong?" he asks, scratching his head— most likely debating if i'm a lunatic or not.

i grin wildly as my fingers clutch the small device. "nothing is wrong. my dad just said he'd text me updates about a baby duck he found at the pond. want to see it?"

ethan tries his best to put on a smile and not look disappointed. "yes... i would love to see the baby duck that ruined a moment."

"come on, e," i urge, lightly tugging on his wrists. "his name is albert. isn't that the cutest thing you've ever heard?"

his fake smile turns into a slight real one. "albert the baby duck."

i stare into his eyes and find it hard to look away. they look at me warmly, and i can see in them that ethan is exactly who i think he is— genuine, funny, smart, caring, protective, compassionate, devoted, and very very affectionate.

a couple months ago, i would have called him none of those things.

and now i'm sorta-secretly in love with him.

crazy how things work out, right?

i don't know where ethan stands with his feelings, because quite frankly i fall way too easy. every single time.

but he feels different than the others.

it's like, i could tell him over and over if i could, and i'd never get tired of the words rolling off my tongue. he truly brings out the best side of me, even when i'm doubting myself. and i'd like to think i bring out the good in him.

sometimes i'll think back to when i first arrived here, and remember that he used to be so pessimistic. he had no shine to his eyes, no pep in his step, and zero trust in himself.

but now— he radiates good vibes. (most of the time).

ethan has a way of making me feel good, even when he doesn't feel good himself. and i love that about him.

i have truly never met a more selfless person.

he must notice me deep in thought, because he laughs and gives me a weird look. "the baby duck? anna?" his fingers snap in front of my face, and i come out of my "trance".

"right, sorry," i mumble and pull up a picture on my phone.

"aw," his face softens. "actually he's really cute."

"and fluffy."

"and fluffy," he repeats with a nod.

the duck is such a small, pointless conversation that it makes me giggle a little bit.

"okay, i'm sorry about the duck. i was just very excited to see a picture of it. how's your finger?"

he holds it up. "better now. but it would be fixed completely if you let me eat the strawberries in your fridge."

i eye him suspiciously. "how do you know i have strawberries in my fridge...?"

"i saw them yesterday and debated on stealing them."

"you have a whole personal chef!" i exclaim with a laugh. "and you want to steal my strawberries?"

"please?" he pouts.

"fine. but you have to be extra nice to me at our golf lesson tonight. got it?"

he nods. "promise."

as i move around my kitchen, getting out bowls and sugar, he seems to always have a hand on me somehow. whether it's at my waist, or around my shoulder, or gently grabbing my arm.

"what're you so overly affectionate for?" i eventually ask. "i'm not going anywhere, e."

he lowers his eyes to his bowl of fruit. "right, sorry."

"don't apologize," i smile. "it's nice. but why?"

his eyes meet mine again. "i'm scared."

i blink a couple times. "of... what?"

ethan shakes his head and quietly mumbles, "never mind."

and i leave it at that.

as much as ethan likes to talk, sometimes he feels he has to work things out with no help. i've learned that about him.

i simply reach across the small table and squeeze his hand.