Page 26 of Ethan & Grace

“I’m much nicer to you than you are to me.”

I raised my eyebrows. “In what universe?”

Ethan raised his eyebrows back, mimicking me, and looked at me provocatively. Our eyes locked, and it took every last shred of willpower not to lose myself in his blue irises. “Do I need to remind you what happened earlier this week? I was so nice to you that you begged me not to be.”

The heat inside me reached a boiling point—and spilled over. The urge to lose myself in his eyes was replaced by a desire to put my hands around his throat and squeeze. “Is there something you want, or are you just here to annoy me for no reason?” I snapped.

“No. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi. Now piss off.”

Ethan laughed. He didn’t look the slightest bit uncertain or self-conscious, and I couldn’t decide if I found that incredibly arrogant or incredibly attractive. He wasn’t rattled by my hostility, but he didn’t push either.

He turned back to the bartender and ordered a colourful cocktail that didn’t suit him in the slightest. Perhaps it was for his conquest of the evening. The thought made me sick. A moment later, the barkeeper set the drink down before him. He thanked the man and slipped him fifty pounds. But instead of taking the cocktail and heading off, he slid the glass towards me.

“Enjoy the rest of your night, Gracie.” With that, he was gone, swallowed up by the crowd.

I stared at the cocktail before me, bewildered, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Why had Ethan come over? Why had he bought me a cocktail? He’d told me I looked good in my dress. Had he meant it? Or had he just been messing with me?

“Hey!”

Rose’s flushed face appeared beside me. Her cheeks were red, her lips swollen. The lip gloss she’d been wearing was smudged in some places and gone completely in others. “Zachary and I are heading out. Can you give me the cloakroom ticket?”

“Sure.” I fished the ticket out of my bag. When Rose reached for it, I didn’t let go. “Are you going back to his place?”

“Yes. I’ll share my location in a minute.”

“All right. And if anything happens, you’ll call me, OK? No matter how late?”

“Like always. Promise. Are you staying?”

“Yes, but just till I finish my drink.” I wasn’t about to let Ethan’s cocktail go to waste, and the longer I stayed, the more likely it was that my parents and Jason would already be asleep by the time I got back. I didn’t want to face their sad looks.

“Sounds good. Have fun,” Rose said.

“You too. And don’t forget to use protection!”

“Never.” She grinned and hugged me, and then she was gone.

At first, it had made me nervous how often Rose went home with random guys, but I’d grown used to it. Besides, she could take care of herself. She always carried a pocketknife, a whistle, and pepper spray. On top of that, we’d taken two self-defence courses together, and Rose went to boxing classes regularly. I should worry more about the men she took home than about Rose.

Half an hour later, my glass was empty. Sliding from the barstool, I was suddenly hit by the alcohol that had been disguised by the sweetness of the drink. I wasn’t exactly drunk, but I felt a gentle buzz. I headed for the cloakroom. It was still so early that far more people were depositing their coats than collecting them. They all looked thrilled to have made it into the club. I, on the other hand, was just glad to be getting out.

I joined the queue and fished around in my clutch for the cloakroom ticket, which I’d slipped into the same compartment as my keys and driver’s license, but I couldn’t feel it. My heart raced as I rifled through my bag, but the ticket wasn’t there anymore. Shit! It must have fallen out when I’d given Rose hers.

I turned on my heel and pushed my way back through the crowd to the bar. My spot was already taken. I crouched down, but people were so tightly packed together that it was hard to see anything, and the flashing strobe lights didn’t help. Crawling along, I searched the sticky floor. I spotted a hair tie, a handful of cigarettes that must have spilled from a packet, and even a condom—but no sign of my ticket. It had to be here somewhere . . .

Unless someone had taken it.

Panic flooded my body. If someone had collected Amy’s coat and walked off with it, it was gone forever. The thought made my stomach clench. What if, at this very moment, her coat was being handed over to some stranger? I pushed back to the cloakroom in a frenzy. New people had joined the queue, and it was just as long as before. I rocked back and forth on my feet impatiently until it was finally my turn.

The cloakroom attendant smiled at me. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said, forcing what I hoped was a convincing smile. I wasn’t sure I’d managed it—every muscle in my body felt tight with tension. Amy had loved that coat. She had worn it all the time. It still carried the scent of her perfume. What had I been thinking, wearing it tonight? “I’d like to pick up my coat, but I lost my ticket. Is there anything we can do?”

The woman pulled a regretful face. “I’m afraid not.”

“Please. The coat is really important to me. It’s mustard yellow with a black lining, and it’s mended under the right arm with red thread. Your colleague brought it to that corner.” As I pointed, I scanned around for the person who’d taken my coat. Perhaps she would recognise me and vouch for me, though I wasn’t holding out hope.