to have to miss the anniversary of their first date, and she looked devastated. He said, “Ethan—the dumb-ass—got nonrefundable tickets. I can’t say no, babe.”
I’m about to tell Ethan this when he speaks first. “I’m sure he didn’t realize that he was canceling plans she’d made. He wouldn’t do that. God, he would feel awful.”
Of course he would see it this way. If the roles were reversed, I would do or say anything to defend my sister. Taking a mental step back, I have to admit that now is not the time to hash this out, and we are not the people to do it. This is between Ami and Dane, not Ethan and me.
Ethan and I are in a good spot; let’s not ruin it, shall we?
“I’m sure you’re right,” I say, and he looks up at me gratefully, and maybe with a bit more clarity, too. All this time I thought he was behind those trips—he gets that now. Not only isn’t he the judgmental asshole I thought he was, he’s also not the terrible influence that resulted in my sister’s hurt feelings. It’s a lot to process.
“Come on,” I tell him. “Let’s get dressed and get ourselves a car.”
• • •
ETHAN’S HAND COMES OVER MINE as we leave the hotel. “In case we run into Sophie,” he explains.
“Sure.” I sound exactly like the eager nerd in a teen movie agreeing with something too readily, but whatever. Holding Ethan’s hand is weird but not entirely unpleasant. In fact, it’s nice enough that I feel a little guilty. We haven’t seen her and Billy since snorkeling, so all this performative affection is probably unnecessary. But why take chances, am I right?
Besides, I have become a big fan of those hands.
We rent a lime-green Mustang convertible because we are idiot tourists. I’m sure Ethan expects an argument about who should drive, but I gleefully toss him the keys. Who doesn’t want to be chauffeured around Maui?
Once we’re on the northwestern coast, Ethan opens the speed as much as he can—people just don’t drive fast on the island. He puts on a Muse playlist, and I veto it and put on the Shins. He grumbles, and at a stoplight, chooses the Editors.
“I’m not in the mood for this,” I say.
“I’m driving.”
“I don’t care.”
With a laugh, he gestures for me to pick something. I put on Death Cab and he grins over at me—it brightens the sun. With their chill sound blowing in the air around us, I close my eyes, face to the wind, my loose braid trailing behind me.
For the first time in days, I am completely, no-hesitation, no-doubting-it happy.
“I am the smartest woman alive for suggesting this,” I say.
“I’d like to argue for the sake of arguing,” he says, “but I can’t.”
He smiles over at me, and my heart does an uneasy somersault beneath my breastbone because I realize I’m wrong: for the first time in months—maybe years—I’m happy. And with Ethan, of all people.
Being an expert at self-sabotage, I revert back to old habits. “That must be hard for you.”
Ethan laughs. “It is fun to argue with you.”
It’s not a jab, I realize—it’s a compliment.
“Stop that.”
He glances at me and back to the road. “Stop what?”
“Being nice.” And God, when he looks at me again to see whether I’m joking, I can’t help grinning. Ethan Thomas is doing something weird to my emotions.
“I did promise to be irritating and smug, didn’t I?”
“You did,” I agree, “so get to it.”
“You know, for someone who hates me, you sure moaned a lot when I touched you,” he says.
“Shut up.”
He grins over at me and then back at the road. “ ‘Press together. Don’t spread.’ ”
“Will you. Shut up.”
He laughs this wide-open laugh; it’s a sound I’ve never heard, and it’s an Ethan I’ve never seen: head tilted back, eyes crinkled in joy. He looks as happy as I feel.
And miraculously, we spend hours together without arguing once. My mom texts a few times, Ami, too, but I ignore them both. I’m honestly having one of the best days I can remember. Real life can wait.
We explore the rugged shoreline, find several breathtaking blowholes, and stop to eat roadside tacos near a coral-strewn bay of crystalline aquamarine water. I have nearly forty pictures of Ethan on my phone now—and sadly none of them can be used as blackmail, because he looks great in every single one.
He reaches over, pointing to my phone screen when I scroll to a photo of him.