Chapter 3

3

But I was dense. I kept calling him "Ethan, Ethan, Ethan!" until he wanted to scream. Finally, during senior year, something happened. I asked him where he was applying for college. He'd said, "UCLA." Excited, I applied there too. When acceptance letters arrived, I learned the truth: Ethan was going to UC Berkeley. He'd lied just to get rid of me. How's that for a crushing blow?

Freshman year, if I hadn't initiated contact, Ethan wouldn't have spoken to me at all. He had his own life, his own friends. He excelled in his classes, even got voted "Campus Cutie." His photos were always filled with gorgeous girls.

I visited him once in Berkeley. His friends asked, "Ethan, who's the chick?" He said, "My dad's friend's daughter." That stung. Ten years, and I wasn't even considered a friend. I felt this sudden, cold emptiness.

But I wasn't ready to give up. I plotted my revenge. That New Year's Eve, I got Ethan drunk and… well, let's just say I made my move.

He'd mumbled, "Liv, do you even know what you're doing?"

I'd retorted, "Ethan, do you know how long I've liked you?"

He went silent. As I undid his buttons, he grabbed my wrist, his grip tight. I winced, tears welling up. He instantly let go. A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but maybe I imagined it. Because then, the jerk said, "Liv, you're so ugly when you cry."

"Doesn't matter. You'll be crying soon too." My brave words were useless. I ended up crying anyway.

But that night, Ethan was… gentle. Afterwards, he held me close and whispered, "I'm sorry I lied about UCLA."

I didn't reply. He played with my hair, sighing. "Don't cry, Liv. I'll apply to UCLA for grad school, okay?"

Like I cared. I was done. That night was closure. After years of pining, I needed it. Now I could finally move on.

The next morning, before he woke up, I was gone. Oh, and the hotel room? He'd paid. I didn't want to owe him anything, so I'd left two hundred bucks on the nightstand. That, apparently, had been a mistake.