Never His Second Choice Chapter 04
Nina rushed over and threw her arms around me, delighted.
“Lena! I knew you’d come see us off!”
Ethan pulled Nina back and bent down to gently brush off the hem of her dress.
“Lena’s sweaty. Don’t get your new dress dirty.”
The faint distaste in his voice made it sound like I was something unclean.
My face burned red. My fingers twisted the strap of my backpack.
Nina shot him a glare that had no bite to it and tugged me back over.
“Lena, ignore him! You may have broken up, but you’re still my best friend. I’ve been texting you for days and you haven’t answered!”
She pinched Ethan’s cheek.
“It’s all your fault. You’ve made things awkward between me and Lena.”
Ethan smiled, softening his voice.
“It’s all my fault. Don’t be mad, hmm?”
As he said it, his eyes flickered over to me—watching my reaction.
I didn’t give him the anger or hurt he was expecting. I just looked back at him with an eerie calm.
“I’m not here to see you off. I’m getting on a plane too.”
Nina’s eyes went wide.
Ethan’s brows pulled together. Every trace of warmth vanished.
“Lena. Are you really this desperate to come to Seattle with us?”
His voice dripped with reluctant sufferance.
“Fine. If you have to tag along, tag along. But there’s no spare room for you when we get there. You can crash on the couch for a while, until you find somewhere to live.”
Listening to him arrange me like a stray piece of furniture, I bit down on my lip. My eyes still went red despite myself.
Nina pressed her lips together and finally—finally—said something reasonable.
“Ethan… don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”
Seeing my flushed eyes, Ethan hesitated for a beat—but he wouldn’t back down.
“She’s not my girlfriend anymore. Not charging her rent is already generous of me.”
The airport PA crackled to life, calling passengers for the Seattle flight.
Ethan took Nina’s arm and turned to go, throwing one last line over his shoulder.
“Keep up. Don’t dawdle.”
I had spent ten years chasing after Ethan. But this time, I didn’t have to chase anymore.
I turned and walked toward a different gate.
I found a window seat. The flight attendant announced electronic devices had to be switched off.
My phone was vibrating like mad—Ethan’s calls and messages flooding in like a tide.
“Lena, the flight’s about to take off. Where the hell are you?!”
I gave a small, twisted smile.
I ignored every notification. A swipe of my finger. Power off.
The plane climbed through the clouds. The wings caught the sunset in a warm, gilded light.
The old me would have snapped a photo instantly and sent it to Ethan.
I used to love telling him about the new coffee shop downstairs, the blueberries on sale at the grocery store, the cat sunning itself by the roadside.
Those were the happiest little moments of my day, and I wanted to share them with him.
But once, when I texted him yet again, Ethan had answered in an exhausted voice:
“Lena, I’m working on a lab report. I don’t have time for this fluff.”
I’d frozen for a second, then nodded meekly.
Later, though, Nina had posted screenshots in our group chat—all of her and Ethan’s conversations.
Out of thirty days in a month, they’d talked twenty-nine.
I’d stared at them, dumbfounded.
Nina had sent an angry sticker: “Lena, get your boyfriend under control! He replied ‘lol’ to the cat video I sent him—that’s so dismissive!”
But I didn’t think it was dismissive at all.
Because behind that “lol” was the fact that he answered every one of her messages, that he made time between experiments to chat with her.
For me, all I ever got was: no substance.
The PA came on. Five minutes to landing in Austin.
I wiped away the fresh tears, powered my phone back on, and took a photo of Austin’s pink-and-purple sunset. Posted it to my Instagram.
At baggage claim, Ethan called again.
This time I picked up.
Even from thousands of miles away, I could hear the fury barely leashed in his voice.
“Lena! What kind of stunt are you pulling? Not answering messages, not answering calls? Nina and I don’t have to stand around at the airport waiting for you. Get off the plane, take a cab to this address, and hurry up.”
He hung up before I could speak and texted me an apartment address.
I looked at the chat window quietly.
Then muted his messages.
I was done waiting for someone who never bothered to answer.