"Did something happen?" she asked, her voice quiet now. Careful. Like she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Ethan looked up finally—and his eyes were steady, unreadable.
"Come on," he said, and gave her a half-shrug. "I told you. I was drunk yesterday. What I said didn't mean anything."
The words came out easy. Too easy. Like a practiced line.
Sophia blinked.
That was the moment. That exact second where she could've nodded, laughed it off, played into the lie he was offering like a safety net.
But something in her chest tugged tight.
He was lying.
Not in the obvious, cartoon-villain way. But in the way people lie when they're trying to protect something. Or someone.
Her.
She stared at him for a beat. "Right. Sure. All good. Let's just blame the whiskey."
Ethan relaxed just enough to take a sip of his water. "Exactly."
She studied him, folding her arms on the edge of the table. "Now can we discuss you?"
That made his eyes flick back to hers. "Me ?"
"Yeah. You know— what's your story
Like
Sophia lane. Grew up in Brooklyn. Has a weird addiction to cereal at midnight. Currently working this extremely strange friendship with a man who apparently zones out during lunch like he's haunted by ghosts."
He smiled at that, a bit more real this time. "Sounds like a full-time job."
"You have *no idea*."
There was a beat of silence, but it felt… lighter now. Like the storm had passed for the moment. Or maybe just gone quiet.
Sophia leaned back again, but her eyes never left him. "So.?"
Ethan at the same time asked "What makes you feel safe?"
The question hit her like a gentle slap. Unexpected. Off-script.
She blinked. "What?"
He shrugged, casual—but his eyes were anything but. " What makes you feel safe?"
Sophia opened her mouth to give some half-baked sarcastic answer. A joke. Something easy.
But then she didn't.
Because for some reason, she knew—*he actually wanted to know.*
So she answered honestly.
"My sister's voice," she said. "The smell of garlic in my mom's old kitchen. Jaime snoring like a dying animal in the next room. Warm socks straight out of the dryer. And..."
She hesitated.
Ethan's voice came gentle. "And?"
"it's kinda lame but I love dogs and I love snuggling with a dog "
His expression didn't change. Not really. But something behind his eyes softened.
"Those are good answers," he said, quiet.
She tilted her head. "Yours?"
"I'll tell you later."
She snorted. "You won't."
He didn't deny it