The Forever of Ella and Micha (The Secret #2)

“Maybe you should stop giving it up to him then.” I hide my smile with the soda can.

“Hey, I have needs too.” She ambles to the kitchen and searches the fridge shelves for a snack. “Not everyone can be committed to that no-sex thing like you.”

“I’m trying to fix myself before I make my life more complicated,” I say, picking the tab off the can. “And so that when… if Micha and I end up together, I can be a person that he won’t resent.”

She grabs an apple and a bottle of water and joins me on the couch, tucking her skirt underneath her legs as she sits down. “You know it’s never going to work, right? There’s no way you two are going to be able to keep your hands off each other for more than, like, a week. Actually I’m betting five days. Ethan went with seven.”

“You made bets on it?” I gape at her. “Wait a minute, did you know they were moving here?”

She shrugs and bites into the apple. “Ethan might have mentioned it a time or two on the phone.”

I tip my head back and suck out the last drop of the soda. “We’re supposed to go over to their new place, if you’re up for it.”

She removes the cap of the bottle of water. “Sure. I don’t have plans, but how are we going to get there? Because I’m still on my bus strike.”

“We can either call Ethan to come get us”—I frown—“or borrow a car. I prefer borrowing so I can leave when I’m ready to. If Ethan comes and gets us, they’ll hold us hostage, trust me.”

“That doesn’t sound that bad.” A piece of apple falls out of her mouth and lands on her lap. “But if you want to borrow a car, then we can. You can ask Blake.”

Remembering how annoyed Micha got over the Mustang, I hesitate.

“Yeah, that’s probably not a good idea, huh?” She retrieves her phone from the pocket of her jeans. “Who else could we call?”

Smashing the middle of the can, I put it on the coffee table. “Parker?”

She shakes her head and one of her curls slips out from underneath the headband in her hair. “No way, then it’ll be even harder to get him to go away. Besides, he’s a weirdo about letting people drive his car.”

“Then I have no idea.” After a few minutes of consideration, I unlock the screen of my phone and send Blake a text.

Me: Hey, I have a huge favor to ask you.

Blake: What’s up?

Me: I need to borrow your car for a few hours.

Blake: Sure, but you’ll have to drop me off at work and pick me up.

Me: That works for me.

Blake: I’ll be out of class in a few minutes. You wanna meet up in the parking lot?

Me: Yeah, be there in 5.

Tucking my phone into my back pocket, I collect my purse off the back of the chair. “I got us a car, but we have to go down to the parking lot right now.”

Her phone rings and she silences it without looking at the screen. “Who did you call?”

I slip my sandals on and check my bag to make sure the house keys are in it. “Blake.”

She springs up and tosses the apple core into the garbage next to the sofa. “You know Micha’s going to be pissed at you for showing up in Blake’s car.”

“He won’t be mad,” I point out, opening the door, and sunlight filters in. “Just a little annoyed and you’re the one who suggested it first.”

“I know I did, but then I realized it’s probably not a good idea.” She sighs as we head down the staircase. “You have a tendency to see things so distorted sometimes. He’s going to be pissed, because you told him you needed to be friends for a while, and then you show up in some other guy’s car.”

I sidestep a tree and then dodge swiftly to my right as a guy playing football comes running in my direction to make a catch. “You drive and we can say that you borrowed it, and then it’ll be all good.”

“All good?” She takes a pack of gum out of her pocket and pops a piece into her mouth. “Yeah, we’ll see how good it is with all that sexual tension you two are going to have.”

She offers me a piece and I take one, knowing she’s right.

Micha

“It smells like a locker room in here.” Ethan wrinkles his nose as he opens the fridge. “Oh God, there’s leftover spaghetti in here.” He picks up a Tupperware bowl filled with red crap and examines it closely. “Nope, I’m not sure what this is.”

“Throw it out, man.” I pick up a heavy box marked “dishes” and carry it into the small kitchen that’s in desperate need of a paint job. There are chips in the green countertops and one of the walls has been spackled in multiple places. “It looks like it’s moving.”

He tosses me the bowl, dry heaving at the horrible smell coming from it. “Your turn. I took the last run of garbage out.”

I shake my head and head downstairs with the bowl out in front of me. The apartment complex is in a noisy area, especially by the playground. Children are on swings, running around, laughing, yelling, crying. It reminds me of everything Ella, Ethan, and I never had.

When I reach the Dumpster, a red Mustang flies into the apartment complex parking lot. It pulls up beside Ethan’s truck underneath the carport and I stroll over, a little annoyed when Ella climbs out of it.

By the look on her face, she knows she’s in trouble. She gives me a tentative wave. “Hi.”

My gaze skims across the shiny hood of the car. “So the Mustang makes a grand return into our lives.”

She gathers some of her auburn hair behind her ear. “Lila borrowed it.”

I press her with an unrelenting look. “I can tell when you’re lying.” When I advance to the passenger side, Lila hops out of the car. “You could have had Ethan or me pick you up.”

“I know I could have.” Ella lollygags toward the curb. “But I wanted to be able to go home when I wanted to.”

“I’m going to go inside,” Lila interrupts, glancing up at the two-story apartment. “Which one is it?”

Without taking my eyes off Ella, I point my finger to the second floor. “Top floor, first door on the right.”

She nods and hurries up the stairs, which creak with the clicks of her high heels.

“The car really doesn’t mean anything, Micha.” Ella scuffs her sandals across the asphalt, avoiding eye contact with me. “And I mean that. It was just a car to borrow.”

“I understand that it might not mean anything to you, but it probably does to Blake,” I assure her, stuffing my hands into my pockets to resist the temptation to run my hands all over her body and try to take claim of her again. “Guys don’t lend cars like this to a girl they have no interest in.”

She sighs and peeks up at me through her eyelashes. “I probably shouldn’t have come over. It’s too weird.”

“It’s weird only if you make it weird.” I start for the staircase and she follows me. “Stop worrying so much, pretty girl.”

“Easier said than done,” she mutters with a frown forming at her lips.

When we reach the bottom of the stairs, I move to the side and signal for her to go ahead. “Ladies first.”

She gives me a tentative smile and trots up the stairs, trailing her hand along the railing. Smiling to myself, I walk behind her with my eyes focused on her backside. She has these little red pair of shorts on that are tight enough that a small sliver of her ass peeks out. I’ve missed that ass a lot.

At the top of the stairway, she glances over her shoulder and catches me eyeballing her. She puts her hands behind her and whirls her back toward the wall. “Did you have me walk up first to check out my butt? I thought we were going to be friends.”

I shrug, not giving a shit that she caught me. “I used to check out your ass all the time before when we were just friends. You just never noticed.”

She combs her fingers through her auburn hair. “You’re going to make this hard, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” I admit to her honestly and her face falls. Quickly, so she can’t stop me, I sweep some of her hair out of her eyes and lightly kiss her cheek, winking at her when I step back. “Relax, though. I won’t rip your clothes off until you ask me to.”

“You’re relentless.” She restrains a grin. “And it’s not going to help me if you keep touching me and looking at me like that. I want to get better for you, but I have to take it easy with complex situations until I learn how to deal with them. Think of it as like when an alcoholic is recovering and they’re told not to get into a relationship until they can handle stuff rationally.”

“Did your therapist say that to you?”

“Yeah.”

Sighing, I shove open the door and hold up a couple of my fingers. “Alright, I’ll be on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.”

She bends my fingers back playfully as she rolls her eyes and then steps into the house. She observes the old leather sofa Ethan stole from his mom’s house, the television on a crate, and the table in the dining room, which is between the kitchen and the living room.

“This is so a guy’s apartment.” She sniffs the air and then flinches, fanning her hand in front of her face. “It even smells like a guy.”

I pinch her ass and she lets out a squeal. “It smells manly.” I strut off to the kitchen before she can get mad at me for my little stunt.

She starts chatting with Lila and Ethan while I peel the tape off the dishes box on the kitchen table and take out a stack of plates. From the counter, my phone rings. It’s the hospital from New York where I took the blood test.

Reluctantly, I answer it. “Hello.”

“Hi,” a woman with a squeaky voice says. “Is this Micha Scott?”

I slant my back against the counter and stare at the wall. “It is.”

“This is Amy, from the NYU Medical Center,” she says. “I called to tell you that your test results confirmed you’re a candidate for the transplant.”