The Taste of Trouble

I told myself it was over.

That Ethan walking out was the end of whatever twisted thing we had built.

That I could go back to my old life.

Back to normal.

But the problem?

Normal didn't exist anymore.

Because everywhere I went, I felt him.

In the empty spaces, in the quiet moments, in the places he used to be.

And worst of all?

He was pretending just as hard as I was.

Pretending that we had never happened.

And that?

That hurt more than losing him.

The first time I saw him after that night, it was like nothing had changed.

Like we weren't standing on the wreckage of something we had both set on fire.

I was at the café with Tessa.

Trying to prove—to her, to myself, to anyone—that I was fine.

That I had made the right choice.

But then—

He walked in.

And everything shattered.

Ethan didn't look at me.

Not at first.

He just walked to the counter, ordered his coffee, leaned against the bar like he wasn't destroying me without even trying.

Tessa didn't notice.

She was mid-rant about something—a professor, an assignment, something completely irrelevant to the fact that my entire body was on fire.

Then—

Ethan turned.

And our eyes met.

For just a second.

Just one damn second.

But it was long enough.

Long enough to remember.

The way his hands had felt on my skin.

The way his lips had crashed into mine like he was drowning.

The way I had told him I couldn't do this anymore.

And the way he had believed me.

But instead of acknowledging any of it, he just looked away.

Like I was a stranger.

Like we had never happened.

And somehow?

That hurt more than if he had said nothing at all.

I forced myself to focus on Tessa.

To smile. To nod. To act like I wasn't falling apart.

And for a while, I almost convinced myself I was doing okay.

Until she said something that made my stomach plummet.

"I'm glad you're over him."

My breath caught. "What?"

Tessa shrugged, stirring her drink. "Ethan."

I swallowed hard.

"You made the right choice," she continued, completely unaware that I was drowning in my own guilt.

"I just… I didn't want to lose you to him," she admitted. "And I know it probably sucked at first, but I think you're better off."

She was smiling.

Relieved.

Because she thought this was a win.

But if this was winning?

Then why did it feel so much like losing?

I lasted two more days.

Two days of pretending.

Two days of ignoring the way my chest ached every time I thought of him.

Two days of convincing myself that this was what I wanted.

And then, on the third night—

I broke.

I found myself at the fight gym.

Standing outside, heart pounding in my chest, hands trembling.

I didn't even know why I was there.

Only that my feet had carried me here before my brain could stop them.

And when the door swung open—Ethan standing there, sweaty, shirtless, and looking at me like I was the last person he wanted to see—

I knew.

I was never going to stop wanting him.

Ethan stared at me.

I stared back.

Neither of us spoke.

Neither of us moved.

And for a second, I thought he was going to tell me to leave.

That he was going to turn his back on me the way I had turned mine on him.

But instead—

His jaw ticked.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was rough.

I swallowed. "I don't know."

His eyes darkened. "That's not good enough."

My fingers curled into fists. "I don't have a better answer."

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

"This is a bad idea," he muttered.

I bit my lip. "I know."

His gaze flicked to my mouth.

And suddenly, the air between us shifted.

I should have walked away.

Should have turned around and left before I made things worse.

But instead—

Ethan took a step forward.

Then another.

And suddenly, he was right there.

Too close.

Too much.

His hand brushed against mine.

A barely-there touch.

A whisper of something we weren't supposed to want.

And then—

He leaned in.

Not a kiss.

Just close enough for his breath to ghost across my skin.

For his voice to drop to something dangerous.

"You can't keep doing this," he murmured.

My heart stumbled.

"Doing what?"

Ethan's eyes locked onto mine.

"Pretending like you don't want me."

My breath hitched.

Because he was right.

And I was so, so tired of lying.

Ethan let out a slow breath, stepping back.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

Like it had never happened.

Like we had never happened.

"Go home, Liv," he said quietly.

I swallowed hard.

Waiting for him to take it back.

To tell me to stay.

To fight for this the way I was too scared to.

But he didn't.

And this time—

I was the one who walked away.

Liv and Ethan are still pretending—but the act is crumbling.

Tessa believes everything is fixed, but Liv isn't sure anymore.

Ethan forces Liv to face the truth—she still wants him.

Liv can't keep pretending… and neither can Ethan.