Page 2 of Generation Omega: Revealed
To leave the rave or to be with Ethan? Keeping it super subtle, I leap into his arms and whisper into his ear, “I’m ready for anything.”
CHAPTER2
TILLIE
Outside the hotel, the air is crisp, and Ethan hesitates, glancing at the busy street and then along the sidewalk. “Walk or grab a ride? Auntie Jem’s place is less than a mile.”
Auntie Jem’s place—this, I can’t wait to see. His aunt is known affectionately as eccentric, though the muttering when she shows up at family events involves less kind terms to describe her wackiness.
“We should walk.” I don’t know why the thought of getting in a strange car bothers me, but it does. It feels suffocating, where the fresh air quickens my pulse and also soothes my nerves. I have nerves, little caffeinated butterflies swarming in my belly. I’mnervouswith Ethan—that’s a first.
He studies me, his expression sweeping through a dozen settings before landing on concern. “Till?”
“I’m good.” But am I? I suddenly don’t know.
Ethan said he wouldn’t let me fall and I trust him, but I don’t trust his doubts. They’ve kept us apart for years, and maybe they’re quiet right now, but that doesn’t mean they won’t start screaming any second.
“Hey.” Ethan drops our bags and pulls me against him, wrapping his arms around me. “It’s okay. I get it. It’s a lot.” He exhales and I manage to follow his lead. “I have so much to say, so many things to explain, but not here, okay?”
I nod against his chest, burrowing closer, loving how I’m able to disappear into him. He’s just so huge next to me, but he’s never once made me feel small. When Ethan decides it’s time to make progress, he turns his back and hunches down, preparing for me to mount up piggyback style.
“I can walk.”
He gives me a look over his shoulder. “Your feet hurt. Let’s go.”
“No, they don’t,” I grumble, already grabbing his shoulders and claiming my spot on his back.
Once I’m securely in place, my legs crossed around his waist, he grabs both of our bags in one hand and rests his free hand over my ankles.
“My feet don’t hurt.”
He scoffs, already walking down the sidewalk. “Yes, they do, but it’s cute when you try to hide things from me.”
He’s right about my feet, pesky things are about to dial 9-1-1. He’s pretty much always right about me. As annoying as I pretend it is, to be seen even when you want to hide is a blessing. I’ve met enough miserable people to know that everyone would benefit from being drawn into the light and away from the lonely darkness. I just wish I could see into Ethan the way he’s always seen me.
So much of my life has been defined by one event, an alphabetized seating chart in the first grade. Ethan Harris. Tillie Harrison. Kismet, for sure. After that first year together, Ethan’s mom, who worked in the school office and had friends at other schools, ensured we remained together throughout grade school, middle school, and high school.
I squeeze Ethan a little tighter, thinking about the past year that finally divided us, me at art school and Ethan attending community college, working in a pub, and spending every free moment training for his MMA fights. Loneliness hunts us all and leaving Ethan allowed it to catch me. I didn’t mean to get so isolated. I didn’t mean to pull back from the new friends I could have made. I’m not even sure what happened, only that the shutters seemed to close on what used to be wall-sized windows in my life.
I felt weak and foolish, but the moment I stopped responding to Ethan’s messages, he was in his car driving five hours, showing up in the middle of the night outside my dorm. We spent that night in his ancient Bronco, parked at a campsite, sharing s’mores and gazing at the stars. He didn’t make me talk, but he listened to my silence so intently that I felt heard. He never chastised me, but he made his point. I would answer his messages, call him almost daily, share whatever I was working on, or he’d show up and whisk me away to remind me that I matter.
The mile passes quickly while I’m lost in thought, his hand warm on my leg, my cheek resting on his shoulder. I barely notice when we enter the gorgeously mismatched, five-story building between two massive, shiny high-rises. I know Auntie Jem’s work with the historic registry is the only reason this place wasn’t demolished decades ago. I’m glad it’s here and not just because it gave us a free place to stay—funky, old places deserve to survive, not just the new, sparkly ones.
With me still on his back, we ride up in the rickety elevator, with its vintage sliding gate, all the way to the top floor. Ethan fishes in his pocket for the key, while I giggle as I’m tilted this way and that like I’m on a roller coaster.
“Youcanput me down.”
Hepfftshis offense at the suggestion. “What kind of chariot would I be if I dumped you before we reach the door?”
I kiss his neck. “The best chariot I’ve ever ridden.”
Ethan murmurs something I can’t make out and opens the door, stepping into his aunt’s place, where everything is decorated with pudgy bears in tutus. All colors of tutus,everywhere.
I laugh at the sight that is perfectly ridiculous, while Ethan finally sets me down. His focus on me is total, as though nothing matters but me. Maybe he thinks ignoring the tutu-bear invasion will make them go away. Maybe he wishes he could have afforded a fancy hotel room, as though I care about that. I just wish I knew what he was thinking and feeling.
Ethan swallows roughly, his hand slowly reaching toward me, lightly caressing my cheek. “We’re here. Finally.”
I know he’s not talking about our location, San Francisco or this apartment. “We’re here.”
