It had been almost two months since Ethan saw the woman who ghosted him at that grocery store.
Ever since that random, jarring encounter, he'd been going back there almost every day. Rain or shine, day or night just hoping to catch a glimpse of her again. Tonight was no different. Ethan was back at the same place, pacing the aisles like some lost soul on a mission.
Sad? Maybe.
Desperate? Also maybe.
But he couldn't help it.
Tonight was no different.
He adjusted his cap low over his forehead and pulled his mask up just enough to cover half his face. With the way he looked, people probably thought he was either sick or just another paranoid guy avoiding germs. Which worked perfectly, no one recognized him.
Last time he'd come here without the disguise, it took under sixty seconds for chaos to erupt. Fans screaming, phones flashing, someone almost yanked his hoodie off. Security had to drag him out before someone tried to auction off his shoelaces on eBay.
That… was not the vibe tonight.
If his schedule wasn't slammed, he always carved out at least thirty minutes to do a lowkey "patrol" at this grocery store. Pathetic? Yeah, kind of. A well-known musician skulking through canned goods just for a chance to see one woman again? Even he couldn't believe it sometimes. But no matter how many nights passed with no sign of her, he kept coming back.
He wasn't even sure if she remembered him. But something about her stuck with him like a bad tattoo. And tonight, again, nothing. No trace of her. Disappointed, Ethan shoved his hands in his pockets and headed toward the exit, his steps slow and heavy.
Honestly, he'd never waited on a woman like this before. Not even close. He was always the one being chased, not the one doing laps in a grocery store like a stalker with a dream. But she was different. She was the only one who'd ever dared to leave him hanging. And it drove him crazy.
Eventually, he gave up for the night and left the store. His steps heavy. His mood heavier. If someone had added a slow, melancholic soundtrack to the background, the scene would've been perfect for a Netflix drama. Possibly French.
Ever since Bangkok, ever since her, no one else compared. He'd tried. Honestly, he had. But every girl with short black hair got a second glance. Every time, he found himself stupidly hoping. And every time, disappointment greeted him like an old friend.
But still, he wasn't ready to give up.
Because she was out there. Somewhere in this insane city.
And when he found her?
She was definitely going to owe him an explanation. And maybe, just maybe, a drink.
***
Ethan was at the studio with his bandmates, rehearsing for their upcoming concert. Every feeling he'd bottled up these past two months had bled into the lyrics of the song he was singing now, raw, sharp, real.
"Damn, bro. Those lyrics hit hard." Finn, the band's guitarist, gave Ethan a light smack on the shoulder.
"Appreciate it, man," Ethan replied, strumming his electric guitar casually. Finn stepped away a second later when his phone rang.
The Storm consisted of four members. Aaron on drums, Finn on guitar, Daniel on bass, and Ethan as the lead vocalist. They'd been grinding together for five years now. The band had started from their love for music, nothing more, nothing less. Ethan and Aaron had been friends since middle school, and during college, they'd met Finn and Daniel, two music nerds just as obsessed as they were. One jam session turned into a pact: let's make a band.
Everything changed after they auditioned for a talent search run by a big-name agency. Long story short, they won. And just like that, The Storm blew up. It still felt unreal to Ethan, his dream of becoming a musician had actually come true. But getting here had cost him a lot too, especially his relationship with his dad.
His father had always wanted him to take over the family business. But Ethan had refused. They'd had a massive falling-out over it. At one point, his dad even kicked him out. But eventually, after watching Ethan hustle and climb his way up, his dad softened. Ethan had proven he could make it on his own.
Make it happen. Shock everyone.
That's been his motto since day one. And damn, had it taken him far.
Daniel, who had just finished talking to Aaron, wandered over. "Dude… these lyrics are deep. Don't tell me someone special inspired this track?"
Ethan smirked, pretending not to get the hint. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, come on. Don't play dumb. Who's the girl, bro?" Daniel nudged him playfully.
"Who said it's about a girl?" Ethan deadpanned, strumming another chord.
Daniel rolled his eyes. "Yeah right. You don't have to say it. I know it's a girl. A special one."
Ethan didn't reply. He just kept playing the melody from his latest song.
"No wonder you've been MIA from all those gossip accounts. Usually, your face pops up with some girl every week," Daniel said, spreading his arms like he was hosting a reality show.
"Look who's talking," Ethan shot back with half a grin. "You're worse than me."
He grabbed his water bottle and downed the rest.
Truth was, all four of them had been known for jumping from girl to girl. Ethan wasn't proud of it. He knew exactly who he was, far from a saint. He'd lost count of how many exes he had. Their whole band had basically earned a reputation as the "bad boys of pop rock," and somehow, that just made women want them more. Go figure.
"Hey, don't lump me with you. I show up like once a month, max. You? You're a weekly headline," Daniel teased.
"Please. You're worse. You just don't get caught. You never commit. You're in it for the sweet parts and gone the second things get real."
Daniel just laughed, unfazed.
"Oh—by the way, Laura was asking about you yesterday at the bar," Daniel added, raising his eyebrows with a suggestive grin.
Ethan furrowed his brow. "Who?"
Daniel looked at him like he'd grown another head. "Laura. Tall, pale, rich. Remember?"
Ethan blinked. "No clue."
"You don't remember a girl that hot? Okay, fine. If you're done with her, I'll take a shot," Daniel said with a smirk, already pulling out his phone.
Ethan chucked the empty water bottle at him. "Women aren't some kind of tradeable item, asshole."
Daniel held up his hands, still grinning. "Whoa. Is this really Ethan Clarke talking? The real one, not some clone?"
Ethan honestly didn't blame him for the confusion. He barely recognized himself lately.
"I'm the real deal, jackass."
"You sure? 'Cause this is wild," Daniel said, already moving closer.
"What the hell are you doing?" Ethan asked when Daniel reached for the hem of his shirt.
"You said to check, right? I'm just making sure it's you under there."
Ethan swatted his hand away, scowling.
Daniel burst out laughing. "Damn, you really have changed."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Changed how? Got hotter? Or evolved into a Power Ranger?"
"Shut up. I'm serious," Daniel said, suddenly dropping the jokes. "You've been different since Bangkok. No more clubbing, no more girls, no more drama. You've been holed up in this studio 24/7. Aaron and Finn think the same thing I do. And that song? Definitely says something's up."
Ethan sighed and set his guitar down, rubbing his face with both hands. The truth was, he wanted to tell someone. Maybe Daniel could actually help him make sense of the mess in his head.
Maybe if I talk to this idiot, he'll give me something useful. Or at least shut up for five minutes.
Seeing Daniel still watching him, Ethan gave in.
"Alright, fine," he muttered. "I'll tell you everything."
***