"I'm not ready to start something up with you, because I've realized that I still, like, notice other girls." This is the explanation Ethan provides the following day, when I ask him point-blank, because I still haven't gotten it through my thick skull that you're not supposed to do that.

"Did I do something?" I pry with unrelenting stubbornness.

"No, of course not."

"You can just tell me," I say, unexpected exasperation bubbling just below the surface of my voice, the words rippling out barely in control. "I may be shy and sensitive, but I'm not... fragile, you know."

"I promise you, it's nothing you did. And I still like you," he assures me in a voice that sounds soothing and genuine and almost causes me to melt again for him.

He still likes me... just not enough. His original words flash back to me in this moment—the admissions he made following our kiss. I realize for the first time that Ethan never actually said he liked me. He told me that he thought I was cute and that he wanted to kiss me. I'm the one who let my feelings run away from me and made this out to be something more than it was.

* * *

I allow myself to be slightly miserable and pathetic for a couple days over the crash and burn with Ethan. Re-adjusting to college life after being home for a month isn't helping my emotional state. I miss my parents, my dog, the comfort of my own space and Mom's cooking. It's not homesickness, but rather an intense fear of slipping back into homesickness, that rushes my body with anxiety-saturated adrenaline. I walk around stiff and frightened that all the emotional resilience I thought I had developed first semester will crumble to sawdust inside of me.

Once classes gear up and I throw myself into my studies, my emotions regulate back to baseline, and I fall into a familiar rhythm. I purposely spend more time with Krista, Leyla, Cora, Shia and Kamden, distancing myself from Ethan in order to let my heart cool and unswell. For a minute, I consider the possibility of Kamden as more than a friend, recalling all the comments and subtle hints Cora used to make about us.

The very same day this notion occurs to me, Krista informs me peripherally during a conversation about a different topic that Kamden and Shia have begun dating. I chuckle inside at the timing, the sting of missed opportunity milder than my level of amusement. Kamden isn't really the kind of guy I'm looking for—he's too polished and popular. I need someone further off the beaten path.

The interactions between Ethan and me soon return to a normalish state. It's the normalcy of friendship before we ever became close, before he began showing flirty physical affection towards me. We never text or interact one-on-one anymore. He has also distanced himself from us, spending more time with other friends. Although I think Elia often hangs out with Ethan when Isla and I are engaged in activities that don't hold her interest, such as working out at the gym or jogging along Tryon Creek.

"Nati, how are you doing with the whole Ethan incident?" Isla asks me one evening, a couple weeks into the term, as she sits behind me on my bed, braiding my hair. Elia is there, too.

"I'm good now," I reply with simplicity. I think this is true.

"You seem better," Isla comments. Her fingers against my scalp, combing through my hair are comforting, nurturing. "I know that was your first experience with heartbreak, though. It can be rough the first time."

Heartbreak? I'm not sure about that. Her statement also triggers the recognition that my friends have no idea and no inkling of conceivability that I had a random, intense, unrealized fling with my 21-year-old volleyball coach last year. I cover my mouth to stifle a laugh and refocus on the conversation.

"Heartbreak? I don't think so," I say, blinking in contemplation.

"Really?" they both ask. "It seemed like you fell pretty hard, and you guys were talking every night," Isla ponders.

"I liked him a lot, and I was really excited about what might happen between us. But no, I wouldn't describe this as heartbreak."

I consider whether the abrupt ending with Alex bruised my heart more than this brief saga with Ethan. They were so different.

"It's for the best, Nati," asserts Elia, her tone full of conviction, as always. "Look at Ethan now. He's a bit of a lost boy. His drinking and partying is getting really out of control."

This information catches me off guard.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I mean, I don't think the lack of commitment had anything to do with you. He's not in a stable place to be in a relationship with you, and he knows that. I warned him not to hurt you, and I think he realizes he's not good for you right now."

I stare at Elia, taking in this news. For some reason, I had the impression that my friends weren't paying much attention to the developments between Ethan and me. To know she cares this much overwhelms me with emotion. I abruptly stand up and wrap my arms around her, ruining Isla's progress on my hairstyle.

"My braid!" she cries, joking. "Hey, I want to join the hug!" Isla embraces us both, and in that instant, Ethan barges in to discover us intertwined in a group hug.

"What did I walk into?" he jests.

"Oh, shut up and join the group hug," Elia growls. Ethan complies, and it feels good to have his arms around me in a gesture of friendship. I have missed our closeness, and now I'm worried about his struggles with alcohol. I understand things probably won't ever be the same between us, but in this moment, I am grateful for the bond the four of us had the opportunity to share over the past several months.

As we all break apart, Ethan runs his eyes over my face with a certain look that hints at the fact that he is not indifferent to the experiences we shared together, even if things didn't work out.

"So, Nati," Isla addresses me, a mischievous glint in her marbley-blue eyes. "Current love interests? Joshua? Josué?"

I cover my face with my hands, embarrassed that she brought up two eccentric, definitely off-the-beaten-path guys right in front of Ethan. Even if I did/do like them both.

"You jerk," I mutter in humor.

My mind strays to my Number 1 love interest, as it always does. I snicker. Everyone catches the expression on my face.

"Natalia!" exclaims Elia, as if issuing a warning. "Tell us right now!"

Ethan is silent, perched on the edge of my bed, and if I had to guess I would venture he is slightly uncomfortable but attempting to appear unaffected by this conversation.

Here goes nothing...

"Did I ever mention Alex?" I say, maintaining my eyes downcast and attempting to keep my cool. I peer up at my friends to discover all eyes wide, sparkling and glued to my face. For once, I'm not blushing, though I feel a warm, controlled heat in the center of my cheeks.

"Alex?" coaxes Elia, quirking her pierced eyebrow.

"Can you finish my hair?" I ask Isla as an aside, craving the sensation of her fingers through my locks to ground me as I crack myself open.

"Focus, Natalia!" Isla practically yells, but she hops across the bed to position herself behind me again. "I'm gonna do a French braid."

"Alex was my assistant volleyball coach last year," I begin, and Isla's fingers catch in a tangle as her shock radiates from behind me.

"Coach?" everyone screams.

"Yep," I smirk.

This is the first time I am speaking of what happened aloud to anyone, with full details, and it's as if I, too, am hearing the story for the first time. I relay many of the most intimate details, the way he pushed his legs into mine and trilled his fingers along my back, the texts and words he uttered charged with mysterious meaning.

I almost let it slip that I saw him over break before remembering Ethan is right there. If I were feeling vengeful, I would describe the hug and subsequent texts, but I no longer feel anything negative towards Ethan and don't want to hurt his feelings.

* * *

Exactly one week later, I find myself taking shots of vodka in the dorm room of one of Ethan's random friends, having the time of my life with Isla and Elia. We laugh hysterically over everything, and I chat freely with every person in the room, guys and girls.

"I love drinking!" I blurt joyfully to Isla, and she looks at me with incredulous amusement, her face trembling in giggles.

"You get to be your true free self!" she yells, grabbing my hands to dance.

"It helps me be my true self when I'm sober, though!" I scream over the music. "Like, the first times I drank, I realized it's not scary to talk to people. And that's all it took for me to be able to have conversations, you know, in real life!"

I pause, stop dancing and glance up at the ceiling, confused by my own words.

"I mean, not in real life. You know what I mean!" I have no idea what I am saying anymore.

"I got ya, chica," Isla reassures me in loving condescension, adding a wink. Elia and Ethan appear by our sides, joining us as we bounce along to the unfamiliar rock style blasting through the room.

"We need more alcohol!" Isla yells to Elia. "Especially Nati!" We all crack up, and the two girls wander off in search of a refill.

All of a sudden, I abruptly stop dancing as my eyes catch on a familiar object on the floor a few feet away from us. Ethan follows my squinting glance. It's one of those rubber bracelets the RAs handed out our first night on campus. This one is green.

I impulsively lunge towards it, snatching it up and searching for the word. Exploration.

Giggles overflow from my mouth, the inspirational noun a bit too on-the-nose for this particular moment.

"Don't you love coincidences?" I slur to Ethan, struggling to pronounce the longest and most pertinent word of my question.

"Um," replies Ethan in amusement. "Sure, they're great."

His lack of enthusiasm makes me double over in laughter, grabbing his arm. "It's such a precious little joke from the universe. You can make it mean whatever you want it to mean in your own head, you know?"

Ethan pulls me back into standing position as I babble on, steadying me with his hands around my wrists.

"Like destiny?" he asks, and his eyes now have an intense gleam shooting into mine like a laser beam. You have got to be kidding me.

"No, not like destiny," I reply with a dramatically dismissive hand gesture. I pause before continuing. "Sorry, was that rude?" I add.

He cracks up. "You could never be rude if you tried, Nati."

My mind wanders to hugging Alex on the same night as I FaceTimed with Ethan. That's something different than rude, I guess.

"So you don't believe in destiny?" Ethan asks.

"Yes, but probably not in the way others see it," I venture.

"Go on," he coaxes.

"Okay," I say, energetic. "This will likely make no sense due to my level of inebriation." I can't even pronounce that word. "However someone's life turns out—that is and was their destiny. Like, whether it was 'decided' ahead of time by God or some divine force is completely irrelevant. Because in the end, however it worked out was always how it was going to work out, because that's how it did to work out. Once it has happened, there's no other way it could have happened."

"Are you saying we don't have free will to decide our destiny, or we do?"

"No, that's not the point. Obviously it's a combination. I don't believe in some almighty being up in the sky controlling things. But obviously we don't decide everything."

I notice Ethan's subtle smile as his eyes latch onto me with full focus.

"But going back to destiny," I continue. "I just mean, whether you thought it was decided ahead of time or not doesn't matter. Because something is going to happen, and what happens in the end was your destiny."

My thoughts are so profound inside my own mind.

I'm dumb. And drunk.

Ethan's half-smile breaks open into a huge grin, and he pulls me in closer to dance. No, this isn't happening.

I lose awareness inside the black hole of the tiny dorm room, battered by the beat of the bass, my brain spinning in a vortex of alcohol.

My body is weak and melting against Ethan's strong yet soft torso. His hands clasp around my waist with that gentle urgency so familiar to me after our single night together. Our lips connect, and it's every bit as intense and sweet and feathery as the first time. He pulls me closer to him inside the deluge of music and blaring conversation, and cutting through all other sounds, I hear his sharp intake of breath as our lips disconnect.

Oh my God, what are we doing?

I shove his chest, a bit too hard, separating him from me.

"Whatever we're doing right now, I'm not interested in going back to anything that was happening before, over break," I exclaim, overly emotional. Angry.

"Yeah, I know!" Ethan yells over the music, and I'm not sure if he's upset or trying to make his voice be heard.

"You know?" I challenge him, not sure what he means—what I mean.

"You made that pretty clear last week when you went on and on about some other guy right in front of me."

"Are you freaking kidding me right now?" I'm now yelling.

He is the one who broke things off and made it clear that he didn't want to pursue anything. Now he's upset that I was talking about Alex? I storm out of the party as my eyes convert to tiny mud puddles, so disappointed in myself for once again pushing things past their limit.