MERRY 11

Put on the spot, Ethan fell silent. There was no answer he could give other than referring to himself in the third person as “the stalker.”

Using my hard-won momentum, I pressed him.

“What are you actually up to? If you’re planning on playing with Susan, forget it. I won’t forgive you if you mess with my friend. And what? Alex Howard? When are you going to drop that nasty habit of using an alias?”

My voice almost spiked, forcing me to shout a mental “whoa” at myself halfway through. It was like trying to train an animal that only runs on instinct.

I took a deep breath to keep from acting out. It backfired, as the sharp scent of alcohol rushed up with the air. Even though I hadn’t reached my limit, the booze was starting to expand its territory. I was strangely vulnerable to alcohol today.

I rubbed my face with one hand and glared at Ethan. Seeing him drive my car as comfortably as if it were his own was somehow irritating. Then again, at this moment, everything he did would probably grate on me.

“Don’t just sit there quiet. Answer me, Mr. Howard.”

“……You don’t need to call me that name either.”

“It’s not like this is the first time.”

I wanted to be as much of a nuisance to him as he was to me. That was why I spoke with such sarcasm. I scanned his profile to see if I’d managed to etch even a single wrinkle of annoyance there, but finding nothing, I moved on.

“Did you save Susan’s number?”

“No.”

“Did you memorize it?”

“Numbers are easy to remember.”

“Are you going to call her?”

“I’ll have to decide that based on the situation.”

Bullshit. What kind of “situation” involves a stalker contacting my friend? I let out a snort.

“Ha, what situation?”

“It means something might come up where I’m forced to call. Like if you disappear, or if something happens to you, or if you become difficult to track.”

I’d prefer a dog barking.

“Disappearing is your specialty, and even if something happened to me, it wouldn’t be worse than having a stalker following me. And that bit about me becoming difficult to track is annoying. It sounds like you’re saying I’m easy right now.”

That was enough. I’d talked too much with a stalker. Pouting, I pulled out my phone. Matchmaking wasn’t really my thing, but I scrolled through my contacts to see if there were any decent guys.

Andrew was flightier than a speck of dust, so no. I’d personally caught Austin cheating on his girlfriend, so he was out. Bruce and Carter weren’t Susan’s type. She’d be yawning within ten minutes of meeting them. Charlie was patient and accepting, but sometimes he took it way too far, so I wasn’t sure…

I was right in the middle of getting fired up about picking the perfect match for Susan when Ethan spoke.

“What would you do if you were going to die tomorrow?”

It was such a random question, yet it felt strangely familiar. It wasn’t a groundbreaking inquiry, so I might have heard it somewhere before. What answer did I give back then? It probably wasn’t this.

“I don’t know. I’d probably just be pissed off.”

I tossed the words out with an annoyed look and went back to my contacts. Gregory was as close to Susan as I was, so there was no point in an introduction. Who was Harry Clark again? Losing my focus for a second, I shoved the phone in my pocket and got lost in thought. About Ethan’s question. Eventually, I changed my answer.

“I’m dying tomorrow? I’m going to fight the guy who dared to say that to me. It’s insulting for someone to talk about my life like they own it, and if I beat the bastard, maybe I won’t die.”

It felt too hollow to just quietly accept a scheduled end. I’d have to fight so that no one could recklessly wield the power of my demise. Besides, there wasn’t much else to do. I turned the question back on Ethan, trying to recruit an ally for my duel against the unknown.

“What about you?”

He looked bored, saying nothing. He gripped the wheel with one hand and ran the other through his hair.

“If you don’t know what to do, you should fight too. Actually, no, you look a bit weak for fighting… Just hire someone to fight for you.”

Despite my tailor-made strategy, Ethan didn’t seem interested. Eventually, I shut my mouth too.

The next time I opened my locked lips was when we arrived at my apartment.

“Leave earlier tomorrow than you did today. The schedule is… wait, why am I even telling you this?”

It was probably the booze. I let out a long, alcohol-scented sigh and shoved my hands into my pockets.

Should I say goodbye or not? It’s weird to tell a stalker to get home safe. But since I used him as a driver, is that the bare minimum? Then again, I didn’t ask him to drive; he volunteered, so whatever.

I pulled my right hand out of my pocket intending to wave, then shoved it back in. I noticed Ethan, who also had his hands sealed in his pockets.

Neither of us turned away; we just stood there facing each other. It wasn’t a send-off or anything. After letting time slip away pointlessly, I was the first to take a step. When I’d moved a few paces away at a moderate speed, Ethan spoke to my back.

“Pretend you didn’t hear my question. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear your answer.”

The request, delivered in a voice so quiet it wouldn’t have reached me if I’d walked just a bit faster, had the opposite effect. It made me remember what Ethan had asked, and his voice began to swell from my memory.

‘Somerset. What would you do if you were going to die tomorrow?’

I really had been asked that same question by him before. It was back when I’d invited him to my room to spend time together. Even though the cups on the shelf were full of coffee, the aroma had already vanished.

I was lying down, using Ethan’s thigh as a pillow. I’d been subtly feeling the firm muscles of his thigh before sliding upward as if by accident. I peeked between his legs while sliding my finger in and out of the waistband of his dark gray drawers.

The fabric was steadily getting damp right where the tip of his thick member rested. When I tried to bury my nose there, Ethan stopped me. The hand that blocked me brushed my bangs aside.

‘It’s too early. It’s only 9:30 AM.’

‘You should have said that before you took off my shirt. Your hands are the ones that did this.’

Everything on the bed was a mess. The sheets and blankets were so wrinkled that even the sunlight hitting them looked wavy, and the pillow that had been barely clinging to the edge finally fell off. We were both shirtless. Beads of sweat dotted our skin, and my nipples felt sore from him sucking on them.

‘These hands did that?’

Ethan, pulling the blanket over to cover his lap, held his hand out in front of my eyes. I knew he was trying to distract me, but I was still drawn in. I swallowed hard and lifted my head slightly. After rubbing my lips against his soft palm, I looked up at him through his fingers.

My gaze must have been smoldering with a blatant, lewd intent. Back then, I was a novice who didn’t know how to control the heat boiling inside me. I was so desperate to jump the man in front of me that it was hard to act cool. So, I fired off the following words like a massive finishing blow.

‘I think it might have been the other hand.’

Ethan was much more of an adult than I was. He was two years older in reality, but it felt like the gap between us was even wider than that. He didn’t exactly look like a jaded playboy, but at the very least, he knew how to hide his impatience.

‘You mean this one?’

When he moved his hand and showed me the other one, I snatched it so I wouldn’t miss the chance. I toyed with his hand while looking at the bite marks I’d engraved on the inside of his wrist. His skin was warm and soft like a child’s, yet the bones were thick, like a grown man’s.

The body heat and the texture of his touch tempted me. I wanted to rub my lips against the back of his hand where the bones and veins pulsed. I wanted to lick him with my tongue as if tracing his nails. Since it was hard to delay the craving that made my mouth water, I started blabbering about something else.

‘Did you ever learn piano? Your fingers are long, so you’d probably be good.’

‘I’ve pressed the keys once or twice. How about you?’

My hands were just as long as Ethan’s, and my palms were even wider.

‘I’m at the level where I can tell the black keys from the white keys.’

‘That’s unexpected. I thought that piano on the first floor was yours.’