You were my everything.

I couldn't believe I had just told Ethan that. Now, he probably thought I was some lovesick fool. Not that he'd be wrong, but I didn't want him to feel pressured or bothered by it, especially when he most definitely did not share the same sentiment. Of course, he managed to move on and forget me. 

Luckily, and unluckily, Felipe had halted the painfully awkward conversation. Kenji and Eric had been right behind him, glancing between us like they had when we first ran into them earlier. Judging by Kenji's raised brow, he knew something was strange between Ethan and me, even when I told them he was an old friend. If he suspected anything, he didn't say anything. 

On the other hand, Felipe was fired up to drink late at night, his flushed face evident that he had drunk upstairs before roping the other two into joining him. Kenji and Eric were more than content with staying in their hotel room, but someone had to chaperone Felipe before he wound up on the wrong side of the city. It wouldn't be the first time we'd have to send the entire team out to find him. 

"Join us," Felipe slurred. "It'll be fun."

"No thanks. I'd rather rest," I told him. It was more like I'd rather be in Ethan's company, but I wasn't about to let another silly confession slip.

Felipe made a face. "Lame. The place has two-dollar oyster shooters during happy hour. Don't you love sushi?" 

Kenji pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not even sushi."

"Felipe, I'm allergic to shellfish, remember?" I reminded him.

He tilted his head like a confused puppy; his hair flopping over only made it more comical. "But there's no shell in a shooter."

Yup, Felipe was indeed already intoxicated. I looked at the other two apologetically. He would be a definite handful if he were already like this.

"Come on," Eric said, gripping our shortstop by his upper arm. "Cam rejected your offer, and happy hour isn't all night. Let's go."

"Boo," Felipe drawled but willingly went along with Kenji and Eric, the promise of oyster shooters and alcohol too tempting.

Ethan didn't say anything as they left the lobby. 

"Sorry about him; he's not always like this." I rubbed the back of my neck. "There's always that one alcoholic on the team, I suppose. Maybe not yet, but Felipe makes any excuse to celebrate with alcohol."

"Sounds like a handful," Ethan said as he headed toward the elevators, hitting the up button. He didn't say anything else as another guest stepped in, merely standing closer to me to accommodate the hotel guest's luggage. While not a huge deal, I smiled and resisted the urge to step even closer. It would've been so easy to brush our shoulders or even our fingertips, but we weren't like what we were used to anymore. Sneaking in subtle touches wouldn't go unnoticed. 

The man got off floor three, nearly taking out Ethan's ankles with the suitcase on his way out. Ethan turned to make a face before taking a short step away for the remainder of the ride.

"You sure you didn't want to join them?" Ethan broke the silence once we made it to our hotel room. "They seemed bummed you weren't going. You could still enjoy appetizers and alcohol. That is if you're still hungry after that giant pizza."

I shrugged. "I'd rather not drink all weekend. If anything, I'll drink with the guys if we win champs. I've quickly learned me and alcohol are not friends."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Who would've guessed?"

A grin spread on our faces, remembering that one party we had attended in high school. No one had bothered to inform me they spiked the punch. It had been just after baseball practice, and I was completely parched. I had tanked a whole glass and realized my mistake a second too late once the burning in my throat started. How I didn't smell the alcohol was beyond me. 

"You had to drag me to my car and drive me home."

"I didn't even have my permit on me then."

"Well, you didn't crash my car; we both made it out alive," I mused, remembering the moment clearly, even though I was wasted. Ethan hadn't let me live it down. "Though my parents were upset about the underage drinking, they found the doorbell footage of you trying to get me into my house hilarious. I think they still kept the video."

His smile lingered this time. It was not nearly as long as I had wished, but it warmed my heart. At least he remembered some of the good times. 

Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, glancing around the room. I sat on the edge of my bed, facing him. He hesitated before saying, "You were scared to drink the punch at our senior prom if I remember correctly."

I let out a short laugh. "Yeah, I tanked everyone's complimentary water at the table. I used the bathroom so often that I hadn't been there when they called our table to get food."

Ethan shook his head. "The servers did not appreciate that I grabbed a plate for you and let you cut in front of me."

"And I apologized profusely and thanked you all night. I even offered the staff a signature in case I ever get famous," I teased, resisting the urge to reach for him. "Which I guess was half true. Though, my signature's definitely got better since then."

He made a face. "I find that hard to believe."

"We can't all have elegant handwriting like you."

"Well, at least yours was better than most of the team's handwriting."

With an embarrassing snort, I responded, "Gosh, remember Gabe? Worse than a doctor's handwriting."

Ethan smiled. "I wonder whatever happened to him and the others on your team. Most moved out of state."

"Gabe's definitely not a doctor, that's for sure. Though, I think Eddie went to nursing school. He's the only one that would be smart enough for that."

"Your field is in medicine."

"Sports medicine, kinesiology. It's not as intense, and it's not like I'm doing amazing in my classes, either. I'm barely passing."

He raised a brow. "Weren't you super excited about your major? Your dream school too."

"I was." I let out a nervous laugh as his expression dropped. "Truthfully, I wasn't expecting so many science classes. Chemistry kicked my ass. Had to take it three times."

"I could've warned you about that," he said.

I groaned. Knowing Ethan, he would've passed that class with flying colors. "I miss high school classes; they were so much easier. The only plus is that we don't have to attend all the lectures."

Ethan seemed lost in thought, most likely reflecting on high school. Whether it was too touchy of a subject, he didn't seem to mind. "High school orchestra was easier. I guess it was simpler times. I definitely had more of a social life then; I don't know how you and your team have time for sports, school, and oyster shooter happy hours."

"Rehearsals kicking your ass?"

Ethan rolled his eyes. "It's like I need rehearsals for my rehearsals. And there are no assemblies, sports games, dances, or proms where we could relax and socialize. If you want to get ahead and do well for concertos and solos, you can't have a social life, basically."

Ethan was never an extrovert who craved being in the spotlight, but I understood what he meant. Being a slave to practicing music to get the recognition he deserved was what led him to that panic attack in junior year. Going to events like my baseball games, dances, and house parties—which he claimed to hate, were times he could socialize and distract himself from all things violin-related. He was an introvert through and through, but even introverts needed human interaction just as much as extroverts like me needed quiet alone time. 

This explained why we had such a magnetic connection; our energies balanced each other. Or it did until it didn't. 

"I remember prom like it was yesterday," I blurted. "Senior prom, I mean. Junior prom was great, but senior prom was amazing."

Because Ethan had been my date, that was probably 99% of it; the other 1%? They played Taylor Swift's "Love Story" at such a perfect opportune moment.

"Prom was..." he faltered. "Nice. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. I didn't go to junior prom because I hated rowdy crowds and the music they played."

"I'm glad my peer pressuring got you to accompany me."

"I'm glad I went," he said softly. I bit back a full grin at his words. 

Our prom's theme had been A Night to Remember, which in hindsight, was very fitting. It was the highlight of our relationship, where we mutually agreed not to hide in front of our peers. While most knew we had been a couple and had even held hands and hugged on occasion, it was only then that we publicly displayed it. We danced on the stage floor where my teammates and his friends had made a space for us, cooing and hyping us up. Ethan had been flushed red from it, especially since he insisted he couldn't dance, but his years of being in music proved he had the rhythm to at least sway to the ballads. 

After a poor attempt at waltzing to Journey's "Open Arms," I boldly decided to kiss him. We had never kissed in front of our friend groups (with a couple of exceptions), only in the comfort of my car or at late stops at McDonald's for McFlurries and French fries after a game or rehearsal. 

I really did want to make the night one to remember. One to show that I truly did love Ethan and wasn't afraid to hide it. I loved Ethan and still very much do, and I didn't see anything wrong with showing it. Maybe that was why he cut ties, not liking such public proclamation after all? 

But if Ethan said it was nice, that meant he didn't hate it either, right?

I hadn't realized I was leaning forward, my hand automatically reaching for his between the two-foot space between our hotel beds. My hand hovered a few inches above his before I jerked it back, our widened eyes meeting each other. A mix of confusion swirled in his eyes before it fell to my hand. 

"Sorry," I mumbled, mentally kicking myself, looking away with a shaky breath. What was I thinking? We weren't in high school anymore. I pushed off the bed and put some distance between us, reaching for the duffle bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

"I'll shower first," I said before he could say anything. "If you don't mind."

"Sure," he said after a beat. There was a hesitation in his voice that I had to refrain from looking back; I had to put more distance before my brain could hope it meant something else.