Chapter 3: Do You Think Ethan Actually Likes You?

Mia's POV

The family dinner is my mom's idea.

Actually, it's my mom and Linda's idea together.

"After all these years of friendship between our families, and the kids are finally together—we have to celebrate properly!" Mom's voice is practically vibrating with excitement through the phone.

So Saturday night finds me standing in our dining room wearing a floral dress, watching both families bustle around preparing dinner.

"Mia, come help set the table," Mom calls out.

I'm reaching for the plates when the doorbell rings.

Ethan's here.

He's wearing a navy button-down, hair neatly combed, holding a bottle of wine.

"Evening," he says politely, then his eyes find mine. "You look nice."

Heat rushes to my face. "Thanks."

"Come in, come in!" Linda's already pulling her son inside. "Look at you two—absolutely perfect together!"

Dinner goes smoothly.

Too smoothly.

So smoothly it's making me nervous.

"So when are you two getting married?" My dad suddenly asks.

I nearly choke on my water.

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying, you're both at that age," Dad continues. "Ethan's twenty-six, you're twenty-five. Time to settle down."

"We just started dating," I manage to stammer out.

"But you've known each other your whole lives." Linda's smiling warmly. "What's there to figure out?"

Under the table, Ethan's hand finds mine.

His fingers brush against my knuckles, the touch gentle and reassuring.

"We'll think about it seriously," he says, voice calm and steady. "But right now, we just want to enjoy being together."

The perfect answer. The topic shifts.

After dinner, Ethan and I end up in the backyard. The autumn night's got a chill to it, and the old swing's swaying gently in the breeze.

"We used to play here all the time," I say.

"I remember." There's something soft in his voice. "You always made me push you higher and higher, then you'd scream like you were terrified."

I laugh. "I did not!"

"You absolutely did." He's smiling now too. "Every single time."

This is the first time we've talked like this. Like friends. No contract, no performance. Just us.

"Ethan," the question slips out before I can stop it, "are you really done with Vanessa?"

He turns to look at me. "Does it matter to you?"

"I—"

Yes. It matters. It matters so much I can barely breathe.

But I can't say that.

Ethan takes a deep breath. "We never really started."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Three years together, and I never..." He pauses. "I never felt anything."

My heart's pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it.

But I can't let myself hope.

This is just an act.

Right?

Two days later, I wake up feeling like death.

Maybe it's from standing outside too long that night, or maybe it's the stress finally catching up with me. Either way, by Tuesday morning I'm burning up.

I call in sick to work and collapse back into bed.

I don't know how long I've been asleep when someone's knocking on my door.

"Mia? It's me."

Ethan's voice.

I drag myself to the door and open it.

"How did you—" My voice comes out scratchy and horrible.

His brow furrows immediately. "You're burning up." His hand's on my forehead before I can react. "Did you take your temperature?"

"No..."

"Where's your thermometer?"

"Bathroom cabinet."

He returns with it, and after checking the reading, his expression darkens. "102.5 degrees. You need medicine."

"I don't have any—"

"I'll get some." He's already heading for the door. "Get back in bed."

"You don't have to... you have work—"

"Mia." He stops, looks at me. "Go lie down."

I'm too weak to argue.

When Ethan comes back, he's carrying a pharmacy bag and a container that's still warm.

"Picked up some soup on the way," he says. "You need to eat before taking the medicine."

He opens the container—chicken soup, still steaming.

"I can feed myself—"

"Open up." He's already got a spoonful ready, blowing on it to cool it down.

I open my mouth.

The soup's hot but tastes good. Ethan feeds me patiently, spoonful by spoonful.

"That's enough," I tell him after half the container. "I'm full."

"Two more bites."

"I really can't—"

"Fine." He gives in. "Medicine time."

After I swallow the pills, I'm already drifting. "You can go now. I'm okay."

He doesn't answer.

I hear him moving around in the living room, then everything goes quiet.

Half-asleep, I feel someone sitting on the edge of the bed. A warm hand rests on my forehead.

"Ethan..." I mumble, barely conscious. "I really like you... I've liked you since we were kids..."

His hand goes still.

Then I'm gone.

When I wake up the next morning, the fever's broken. I sit up and find Ethan curled up on my bedroom sofa, still in yesterday's wrinkled shirt, hair messy.

Something in my chest goes soft.

"Ethan?" I call quietly.

His eyes open, and seeing me awake, he sits up immediately. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better." I watch him rub his neck. "Did you sleep here all night?"

"Yeah. In case your fever came back."

"Thank you."

He stands, walks over, and touches my forehead again. When he's satisfied I'm not hot anymore, relief crosses his face.

Then he does something that makes my heart stop.

He leans down and kisses my forehead.

It's light, barely there, but it's enough to freeze me completely.

"Rest," he says, and then he's gone.

I sit there, hand pressed to where his lips touched, face burning.

What was that?

Part of the contract?

But there's no one here to see us.

We don't need to pretend.

That afternoon, my phone rings. It's Jessica.

"Mia, did you hear?" Her voice is buzzing with gossip. "Vanessa and that trainer guy broke up!"

My stomach drops. "When?"

"Like, two days ago! Apparently he was just messing around, never serious. Vanessa's all over Instagram posting sad stuff now."

I pull up her profile. She's right—it's all "trust is a joke" and "never again" type posts.

"And," Jessica lowers her voice, "I heard she went to see Ethan."

My hand shakes. "What?"

"Yeah, trying to get back together, obviously. But I think he turned her down? Not totally sure."

After we hang up, I stare at my phone.

Vanessa went to Ethan.

He didn't tell me.

But why would he? We're just playing roles.

The next day after work, I'm walking out of the building when I spot a familiar figure in the parking lot.

Vanessa.

She sees me and smiles, but there's nothing friendly in it.

"Mia. Long time."

"What do you want?" My voice comes out cold.

"Getting dumped sucks, doesn't it?" I can't help the bite in my tone.

She laughs. "At least Ethan and I had something real. What about you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Drop the act." She pulls out her phone. "I know about your little arrangement."

My blood turns to ice.

She turns her screen toward me.

A text conversation. Ethan's name at the top.

Someone asks: "So you and Mia are really together?"

Ethan replies: "With Mia? Pretty convenient. She's been following me around since we were kids anyway."

I'm staring at those words, unable to look away.

"You think Ethan actually likes you?" Vanessa's voice drips with malice. "He's using you. Using you to get back at me, using your feelings for him, using everything you've given him since you were children."

"That's between him and me," I force my voice to stay level. "Nothing to do with you."

"Fine." She shrugs. "Just wait. Wait for the day he throws you away. Just like he did to me."

She walks off, leaving me standing there with shaking hands.

Those words keep echoing in my head.

"Pretty convenient. She's been following me around since we were kids anyway."

So that's what I am to him. A convenience. A puppy dog who's been trailing after him her whole life.

I get in my car, start the engine.

My phone buzzes.

Ethan: "Free tonight? Dinner?"

I stare at the message for a long time.

Finally type back: "Sorry, busy tonight."

I need space.

I need to think.

I need to figure out if I can keep playing this game.