Chapter 2: The Golden Boy’s Secret

After three rounds of drinks, Ethan was just as he always was.

The bar was packed, laughter bouncing off the wood-paneled walls, neon signs glowing above craft beer taps. Ethan slung his arm around me and stood up. "You all keep playing. Our little troublemaker needs to get home—I'll take her."

He said it with a wink, the kind that made people roll their eyes and smile. The rest of the group barely looked up, too used to his antics to care.

No one cared, not even a single person teased him about it.

In our circle, Ethan’s word was law. If he wanted to leave, everyone let him. He was the golden boy—no one wanted to cross him, especially not over someone like me.

Ethan was privileged and handsome, relying on his looks to do whatever he pleased.

He had that Southern charm: a lazy drawl, a taste for sweet tea and biscuits, and a swagger that made you forget how sharp his smile could be. His confidence filled the room, and people followed his lead without thinking twice.

Women chasing him were as numerous as fish in the Mississippi. The bar sat just a few blocks from the river, where the nightlife buzzed and everyone wanted a piece of Ethan.

It was almost a joke—every time we went out, someone would try to catch his eye. Sometimes I wondered if he noticed, or if he just expected it. Ethan was used to being wanted.

And I was truly ordinary, plain as can be.

I blended into the background, the kind of girl who could disappear in a crowd. My jeans were Target, my hair cut in a basic bob, no designer brands or bold colors—nothing about me stood out.

If not for the label of childhood friend,

I’d probably be stuck outside, just opening doors for the rich kids, never getting past the velvet rope.

I’d probably be stuck outside, just opening doors for the rich kids.

So, no one ever connected me with Ethan Caldwell.

Even less did anyone know—

For the past two years, every time he used some excuse to take me home after a party,

It was really just to find a new place, a new position, chasing the thrill after drinking. That was all.

Looking back, I wonder if anyone ever saw through us, or if we were just good at hiding in plain sight. The car rides, the whispered jokes, the way he'd linger at my door—it all felt like a secret only we shared.