Heart Tunes

THE FRIEND

CHAPTER 5

SCARLETT

I watch Ethan Moreau walk into the café with a smile already forming on my face. His hair is tousled as always and his dark coat hangs loosely over one shoulder like he got dressed in a hurry which honestly is probably what happened. Ethan has never believed in being on time if he can help it.

He pauses briefly by the entrance, scanning the café for me. His eyes land on me seconds later and he grins immediately.

“There she is,” he says dramatically while walking toward my table. “The woman who almost murdered me because I canceled ice cream.”

“You deserved it,” I reply while standing up to hug him.

He pulls me into a quick embrace and for a second I relax completely. That’s the thing about Ethan. Being around him is easy. There’s no pretending, no careful image maintenance, no awkward billionaire politics. Just comfort. He feels safe.

“You still look offended,” he says after sitting down.

“I am offended" I grind out.

“It was one canceled..." I cut him off.

“It was a date nevertheless.”

Ethan clutches his chest dramatically.

“Scarlett Beaumont calling our friendship meetings dates? This is huge.”

“Oh shut up. I can't exactly call it an ice cream meeting" I point out, rolling my eyes.

He laughs loudly while loosening the sleeves of his shirt. Ethan has been one of my closest friends for years now. After Marie, he’s next. Our fathers met during some ridiculously boring business conference and dragged us along because apparently wealthy families believe teenagers enjoy networking. Ethan was seventeen. I was sixteen. We spent the entire conference making fun of rich people while technically being rich ourselves. Fast forward to ten years and somehow we’re still friends.

I think part of why our friendship works so well is because we understand each other without needing lengthy explanations.We grew up under similar pressure.

Same expectations.

Same lack of freedom disguised as privilege.

People look at billionaires and assume life becomes easy after money enters the picture. It doesn’t. The problems just begin to look prettier.

“How are you, Scar?” Ethan asks after finally settling down properly.

“Well, I currently have the opportunity to see you without thinking about work, so I’d say I’m pretty fine. How are you?”

He smiles slightly.

“I don’t know,” he admits honestly. “But at least you’re here. I’ll make the ice cream date up to you.”

My chest warms a little at that.

Not romantically.

Just comfortably.

People always assume men and women can’t stay friends this long without secretly wanting each other. Ethan and I have never been like that. He’s just… safe. Familiar. We trauma-bond exceptionally well.

The waiter arrives with our pancakes and Ethan immediately brightens.

“My favorite,” he says. “You’re the best, Scar.”

“I know, I know" I reassure him with a smile.

He starts eating immediately while talking about some new tech project he’s currently obsessed with. Although the Moreau family made their fortune through cosmetics and luxury skincare, Ethan chose a completely different path years ago.

Technology.

Design.

Innovation.

His father thinks it’s a phase but unfortunately for him, Ethan is stubborn. It'll be an issue in the future but why worry about that when we can live in the present? I understand the feeling.

Right now I work mainly in real estate and property management but eventually I’ll still have to fully step into Beaumont Perfumes whether I want to or not which honestly sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud.

My father built billions selling overpriced perfume to celebrities and somehow society decided that was revolutionary. I stopped questioning wealthy people years ago.

“You’re zoning out,” Ethan says suddenly.

“I’m listening.”

“You looked deeply disturbed.”

“I was thinking about how overrated perfumes are.”

Ethan bursts into laughter.

“Your family literally owns one of the biggest perfume companies in the world.”

“And?”

“You sound like a disappointed employee.”

“I technically am" I say with a smile.

He shakes his head while laughing softly. Talking to Ethan has always felt natural like this. Easy teasing. Comfortable silence. No pressure to impress each other. When he finishes talking about investors and product designs and meetings that sound painfully exhausting, he points his fork toward me.

“Your turn" he says.

“Mr. Miller called me fourteen times this week because he clogged his sink again.”

“The noodle man?”

“Yes.”

“That man is your greatest enemy.”

“He absolutely is. What makes him think dumping a pot of noodles down the sink is safe?”

Ethan laughs while I continue talking. I tell him about dinner with Marie that somehow ended with Marie almost screaming at a stranger because she thought he looked at me disrespectfully.

“In her defense,” Ethan says thoughtfully, “people do look at you disrespectfully sometimes.”

“That does not justify public violence" I counter.

“She was protecting your honor.”

“She almost threw breadsticks at somebody" I state, exasperated.

“An icon honestly.”

I laugh despite myself before growing quieter. Then eventually, I tell him about Michael. The closer I get to the part where Micheal raised his hand at me, the more Ethan’s expression hardens. By the time I finish speaking, he looks furious.

“He tried to hit you?” he asks quietly. His voice has gone cold.

“It’s not a big deal,” I say immediately.

“Scarlett” he growls.

“He didn’t actually hit me.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

I try joking instead.

“Well technically he didn’t stand a chance considering I’m secretly Superwoman.”

Usually Ethan laughs at my terrible jokes but this time he doesn’t.

“I’ll take care of it,” he says calmly.

Immediately, I know that tone. The last time Ethan used that voice, a hotel doorman got fired for teasing me and calling me "daddy’s little princess" because he knew how much I hate the title. The poor man looked traumatized afterward.

“Ethan,” I warn carefully.

“He threatened you.”

“He was drunk.”

“He still raised his hand at you.”

“I handled it.”

“You clearly didn’t if he still feels comfortable enough to breathe.”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“That was concerningly aggressive.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” I reply firmly. “It’s settled. I even rehired him.”

Ethan drops his fork.

“You what?”

“He asked for the manager position back” I say defensively.

“And you said yes?”

“I said I’d consider it.”

He stares at me like I’ve completely lost my mind.

“Scarlett, he almost hit you.”

“But he didn’t.”

“That is not the point.”

“He helped build Neon District,” I argue. “I can’t just throw him away because of one terrible night.”

“One terrible night where he almost hit you?"

My voice goes cold.

“Ethan…”

His expression softens immediately.

“I’m worried because I care,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry if I pushed.”

Annoyingly enough, it becomes impossible to stay irritated at him after that.

“It’s okay,” I say gently. “I have it under control.”

He still doesn’t look convinced but thankfully lets the conversation drop. Mostly.

“So,” he says after a moment, “anything else happen this week?”

I hesitate briefly. “I met someone.” Then immediately regret speaking.

Ethan slowly puts his fork down.

“No.”

“Yes" he says, a mischievous grin already on his face. “Scarlett Beaumont voluntarily speaking to a man outside business meetings? This is historic.”

“Oh my God, relax. You're even worse than Maria!" I exclaim.

He grins.“Tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“That means there’s definitely something to tell" he says, winking.

I roll my eyes dramatically before continuing anyway.

“He performs at Neon District sometimes.”

“A dancer?”

“Singer” I correct.

Ethan already looks skeptical.

“He stopped Michael from hitting me.”

“Well now I’m forced to appreciate him" he groans.

“You’re impossible.”

I continue before he can threaten Michael again.

“I ran into him the night you cancelled on me."

“You'll never forgive me, will you?" he groans.

I laugh. “He played my song at the park.”

Ethan blinks. “Your song?”

“Those Eyes.”

“The New West one?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

I narrow my eyes immediately.

“What does 'hm' mean?”

“Nothing.”

“That definitely means something.”

He grins shamelessly. “I’m just listening.”

I ignore him.

“He’s also moved into my Brooklyn building.”

That catches his attention immediately.

“Your building where you own a flat?”

“Yes.”

“That’s very odd" he observes, stroking his chin.

“Exactly!” I point at him dramatically.

“It feels like fate keeps throwing us together.”

“Or Brooklyn is just smaller than you think" Ethan snorts.

“You ruin everything" I say with a little life.

“It’s one of my best qualities.”

I lean back with a sigh. “It’s just strange.”

“What is?” he asks.

“The timing.”

Ethan shrugs casually.

“Things like that happen sometimes. Doesn’t mean he’s special.”

“I never said he was special.”

“You implied it.”

“I absolutely did not.” We're back to bickering again.

“You literally used the word fate.”

“That means nothing.”

“Sure.”

“He’s not even my type!” I shriek dramatically.

Ethan pauses then slowly starts smiling.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“That sounded like what a guilty person would say.” I immediately punch his arm. Hard.

“Ow! Scar!”

“You deserved that.”

“I absolutely did not.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you still came here willingly" he croons, his sly smile in place. Unfortunately, he has a point.

“Seriously though,” Ethan says after his laughter dies down slightly. “I know he's not type.”

“Oh really?” I ask skeptically. “And what exactly is my type?”

“Men who know what they want.” The answer catches me off guard slightly.

“What makes you think Noah doesn’t know what he wants?”

Ethan shrugs.

“He spends his days making music and hoping it reaches the right audience.”

“That’s called pursuing a dream.”

“That’s called instability.”

I frown slightly.

“If he had his life completely together, he probably wouldn’t be living like that.”

Normally, I would agree with Ethan immediately. That kind of thinking is exactly how people like us were raised. Security first. Dreams second. But for some reason, hearing Noah reduced to irresponsible struggling musician annoys me slightly which is ridiculous because Ethan technically isn’t wrong.

“You’re right,” I say eventually but even as the words leave my mouth, something inside me disagrees quietly.

And judging by the look Ethan gives me, he notices it too which is exactly why I immediately grab my coffee and avoid eye contact. Ethan will absolutely never let me hear the end of this if he realizes Noah Carter is slowly becoming interesting to me but that's not really an issue because he's not my type. Right?