Off-Limits

Just Between Us

Ethan’s Pov

My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I was certain Ethan could hear it from the hallway. I stared down at my glowing phone screen in the dark bedroom, reading Marcus’s text over and over again until the words blurred together.

Hey Lena. Quick question... has Ethan been acting strangely around you lately?

I didn't wait until morning. I jumped straight out of bed, pulled my soft blanket tightly around my shoulders like a cape, and hurried out of my room. The apartment was dark and quiet, but a thin strip of yellow light escaped from underneath Ethan's door. I tapped softly on the wood, and a second later, the door swung open.

Ethan stood there wearing a grey tee shirt and sweatpants, his dark hair messy, looking like he hadn't been able to sleep either. His worried expression vanished the second he saw my face, replaced by instant concern.

"Lena? What's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked, his voice dropping into a low, urgent murmur as he pulled me a step closer.

I didn't say a word. I just held out my phone and let the screen shine between us.

Ethan’s dark eyes scanned the message. I watched the color drain from his face, and his jaw locked into a hard, tight line. He let out a long, slow breath through his nose, running a hand over the back of his neck.

"He knows," I whispered, panic rising hot and fast in my throat. "Ethan, he knows something is up. Why else would he text me that out of nowhere?"

"Hey, look at me," Ethan said softly, reaching out to gently grab my shoulders. His touch was warm and steady, cutting through my racing thoughts. "He doesn't know anything, Lena. If Marcus actually knew we were together, he wouldn't be texting you asking if I'm acting strangely he would already be standing at my front door kicking it in."

I let out a shaky breath, knowing he was right. Marcus had a massive temper when he felt like someone was messing with his family, and subtlety was never his strong suit.

"Then why is he asking?" I asked, looking up into his worried eyes.

"Because I'm his best friend, and I've been acting like a total i***t around him lately," Ethan sighed, stepping back and pulling me into his room so we could talk quietly. "Between trying not to look at you, trying not to lose my mind every time he mentions you, and hiding my own guilt, I haven't been acting normal. Marcus pays attention. He notices things."

We stood by his dresser, hashing it out in whispers. Ethan suggested that we needed to be extra careful, that we should pretend to act like normal roommates when Marcus was around, and avoid any accidental glances or lingering touches. But the second he said it, my chest tightened with instant rebellion.

"No," I said, shaking my head firmly. "I am not doing that, Ethan. I am not going to spend the next few weeks tiptoeing around my own life, pretending I barely tolerate you just so my brother doesn't get suspicious. That’s exhausting, and it’s completely unfair to us."

Ethan looked at me, a mixture of stress and deep respect shining in his dark eyes. He reached out and took my hands, lacing his fingers tightly with mine.

"You're right," he admitted softly. "I don't want to pretend either. But we need time. Just a little more time to figure out how to tell him without blowing up our entire lives overnight."

We agreed to keep things private for just a little longer not out of shame, but out of a careful strategy. We wanted to make sure our new relationship had solid roots before we threw it into the middle of Marcus's protective fury.

The very next day put our new plan to the absolute test.

We were sitting in the kitchen around three in the afternoon, quietly drinking coffee and reviewing player media schedules on my laptop, when the harsh, loud buzz of the front door intercom echoed through the apartment.

My heart jumped straight into my throat.

"That's him," Ethan muttered, standing up fast from his stool. "Just act natural. Breathe."

Before I could even blink, the front door unlocked and swung open. Marcus walked in, carrying a takeout bag from our favorite sandwich shop and looking as cheerful as ever.

"Hey! Smells like coffee in here," Marcus announced, tossing his keys onto the counter. He walked right into the kitchen, stopping just a few feet away from where I sat at the island.

I forced myself to smile, keeping my hands flat on the counter so he wouldn't see them shaking. Ethan stood rigidly by the coffee maker, looking like a statue.

"Hey, Marcus," I said, trying to keep my voice light and steady. "What brings you by?"

" I was close by the neighborhood," Marcus said, pulling a sandwich out of the bag and setting it down in front of me. "Thought I’d drop off some lunch for my favorite sister. And, honestly, I wanted to check on you two. Ethan hasn't been driving you crazy with his boring hockey talk all day, has he?"

I had to bite the inside of my cheek hard to stop myself from laughing. If Marcus only knew how far from "boring" our conversations had been lately.

"No, Ethan has been great," I said smoothly, casting a quick glance sideways at Ethan.

Ethan’s face was locked in his usual serious expression, but as our eyes met for a fraction of a second, a tiny, secret warmth flashed in his dark gaze.

"Good, good," Marcus nodded, grabbing a stool and sitting right between us.

For the next twenty minutes, my entire life felt like an extreme sport. Marcus sat right there, talking about team stats and house repairs, while Ethan and I had to sit inches apart without looking at each other the way we wanted to. At one point, when Marcus turned to grab a napkin, Ethan's knee brushed softly against mine under the counter. A hot, electric shock raced straight up my spine. I had to bite my lip so hard to keep from gasping that I actually tasted copper.

Miraculously, Marcus didn't notice a thing. He ate his sandwich, complained about the plumbers working on his house, and finally stood up to leave, clapping Ethan on the shoulder.

"Well, I gotta run," Marcus said, grabbing his jacket. "Thanks for keeping an eye on her, man. I really do appreciate it. I trust you completely."

Hearing those words again made my stomach twist into knots, but Ethan didn't flinch. He just gave a steady nod.

" Anytime, Marcus. Drive safe."

The second the front door clicked shut behind him, I let out a massive, dramatic sigh of relief, dropping my forehead right onto the cold marble kitchen counter.

Ethan let out a rough laugh, walking around the island. He pulled me up from the stool and wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, burying his face in my neck.

"We survived," he murmured, pressing a warm kiss against my skin.

"That was pure torture," I groaned, wrapping my arms around his neck. "How are we supposed to do that every single day?"

"We won't have to," Ethan promised softly, his hands holding me close. "We'll figure out a way to tell him soon. I promise you, Lena, I won't let us live like a secret forever."

Later that evening, the heavy stress of the day finally faded away. We stood together in the warm, softly lit kitchen, washing the dinner dishes side by side. It felt so domestic, so normal, and so wonderfully right. I handed him a washed plate, and as our fingers brushed, I smiled up at him, feeling a deep, quiet happiness that I had never known before.

"It feels strange, doesn't it?" I murmured, leaning my hip against the counter. "Having something this important, and not being able to share it with the world."

Ethan dried his hands on a towel and stepped closer to me, his dark eyes filled with absolute tenderness. He reached out, gently tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"It feels weird," he agreed quietly. "But it also feels real. And I promise you, Lena, I won't allow our relationship to become something we have to hide forever."

Before I could answer, before I could lean up and kiss away the serious line forming on his forehead, a sharp, familiar sound shattered the quiet peace of the room.

Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

Ethan’s phone, sitting on the kitchen counter just inches away from my coffee mug, lit up the room with a bright, flashing white light.

Ethan stopped. He looked down at the screen, and the warmth in his eyes instantly turned to ice.

He picked up the phone, his thumb tapping the screen to read the incoming text message from Marcus.

I held my breath, watching his face grow tight and pale in the glow of the display.

"Ethan?" I asked, my voice dropping to a nervous whisper. "What does he want?"

Ethan slowly lowered the phone to the counter, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He looked up at me, his dark eyes wide, heavy, and full of a sudden, undeniable warning.

“I don’t know,” Ethan replied, his voice rough and low as he stared straight into my eyes. “But whatever happens tomorrow, we need to be ready.”