RUMOR HAVE TEETH
1037 Words
Lia's POV
The first time I met Ethan, he tripped over a trash can.
Not exactly a romantic beginning.
Not the kind of story people imagined when they looked at him now.
Back then, he was awkward.
Determined.
Annoyingly persistent.
The kind of boy who smiled after embarrassing himself.
The kind of boy who made failure look easy.
I thought about that version of him while standing outside Studio Three on Monday morning.
Because the man walking toward me now looked nothing like the seventeen-year-old who once carried my backpack for an entire week just because I'd mentioned my shoulder hurt.
This Ethan was sharper.
More guarded.
More careful.
Fame had polished away all his rough edges.
Sometimes I missed them.
"Why are you staring at me?"
I blinked.
Ethan stopped beside me.
"Was I staring?"
"You looked emotional."
"I wasn't emotional."
"That's exactly what emotional people say."
I rolled my eyes.
His grin appeared immediately.
Victory.
He always looked so pleased whenever he managed to annoy me.
"Your interview starts in ten minutes."
"You're changing the subject."
"You're late."
"I still have ten minutes."
I pointed toward the studio entrance.
"Move."
He laughed and finally obeyed.
For a moment, I watched him walk away.
Tall.
Confident.
Beloved.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Maya.
Emergency.
That couldn't be good.
The emergency turned out to be social media.
Again.
I found Maya in the publicity office pacing nervously.
The second she saw me, she handed over her tablet.
"Lia."
I looked down.
And immediately wished I hadn't.
A photo had surfaced online.
Not a recent one.
An old one.
Very old.
The image showed Ethan and Rose during their final year of high school.
They were sitting together beneath a tree.
Rose was laughing.
Ethan was looking at her.
The expression on his face was unmistakable.
Young love.
The comments were worse.
Much worse.
HE NEVER LOOKED AT ANYONE ELSE LIKE THAT.
SHE WAS THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY.
THEY WERE MEANT TO FIND EACH OTHER AGAIN.
SOME LOVES ARE DESTINY.
I handed the tablet back.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like it might explode.
"What do you need me to do?"
Maya stared.
"That's your response?"
"What else would it be?"
"You don't seem angry."
I almost laughed.
Angry wasn't the right word.
Anger was loud.
This feeling was quieter.
Heavier.
Like standing outside your own house and realizing someone else had painted over your name.
"Can we remove it?" I asked.
"No."
"Then there's our answer."
Maya looked unconvinced.
I changed the subject.
"What time is Ethan's next schedule?"
She sighed.
Defeated.
"One o'clock."
"Good."
Work was easier than feelings.
Work always had been.
Unfortunately, feelings had a way of finding me anyway.
The afternoon interview was being filmed live.
I stood off-camera reviewing tomorrow's schedule while Ethan answered questions.
Everything went smoothly.
Until the host smiled.
That smile.
The one interviewers wore before asking something dangerous.
"Ethan."
Here we go.
"You've worked with many actresses throughout your career."
Ethan nodded.
"That's true."
"But audiences seem particularly excited about your reunion with Rose Bennett."
I felt my stomach sink.
Across the stage, Ethan's expression remained perfectly neutral.
Years of media training.
Years of practice.
"People seem excited."
The audience laughed.
The host leaned forward.
"Why do you think that is?"
Because people are obsessed with first-love stories.
Because they don't know you're married.
Because the truth isn't nearly as marketable.
Instead, Ethan simply shrugged.
"You'd have to ask them."
Smooth.
Professional.
Safe.
The host wasn't finished.
"Do you believe first loves are unforgettable?"
The room became very quiet.
I looked up.
So did everyone else.
For the first time all interview, Ethan hesitated.
Only briefly.
But I noticed.
His gaze dropped.
Then lifted.
And for one strange second...
His eyes found mine.
Across the room.
Across the crowd.
Across everything.
"I think," he said slowly, "people remember those who mattered."
The audience applauded.
The host smiled.
The interview continued.
But my heart wouldn't settle.
Because something about that answer felt unfinished.
Like there were words he hadn't said.
Words he couldn't say.
That evening, rain covered the city.
Heavy rain.
The kind that turned windows into mirrors.
I was gathering my things when Ethan appeared in my office doorway.
"You ready?"
I glanced outside.
"Looks awful."
"It's just rain."
Easy for him to say.
He wasn't carrying three bags and a laptop.
The drive home was quiet.
Not uncomfortable.
Just thoughtful.
The city lights blurred against the wet glass.
Traffic crawled.
Neither of us seemed in a hurry to fill the silence.
Eventually, Ethan spoke.
"You watched the interview."
Not a question.
I nodded.
"Part of it."
His fingers tapped the steering wheel.
"You didn't like it."
Again, not a question.
I sighed.
"Do we have to do this?"
"Probably."
Fair.
Unfortunately.
I turned toward him.
"The host knew exactly what she was doing."
"Of course she did."
"And people are eating it up."
A muscle tightened in his jaw.
"I know."
The frustration in his voice surprised me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Ethan exhaled sharply.
"I hate this."
I blinked.
"Hate what?"
"This narrative."
The answer came instantly.
Without hesitation.
Without performance.
For the first time all week, Ethan sounded genuinely angry.
"The articles. The rumors. The assumptions."
Rain hammered the windshield.
The traffic light ahead turned red.
We stopped.
And suddenly Ethan looked tired.
Not actor tired.
Not work tired.
Something deeper.
"They talk like they know me."
His voice was quiet now.
"They don't."
I stared at him.
Because for the first time since Rose returned...
I believed him completely.
The light changed.
The car moved forward.
And for a few minutes, neither of us said anything.
Then Ethan reached across the center console.
Found my hand.
And held it.
Not because anyone was watching.
Not because cameras were around.
Not because it would help his image.
Just because he wanted to.
My chest tightened painfully.
Because moments like this reminded me why letting go would be impossible.
The problem wasn't that I stopped loving Ethan.
The problem was that I never had.
And somewhere deep down, I feared that made me the easiest person in the world to hurt.
- Writer
