Kiss me please

I'd been chasing after him for five years, with no luck. Then, five years later, there he was, amidst a throng of long-legged hotties at a karaoke bar. A little tipsy, I grabbed his hand, the alcohol giving me a dose of liquid courage.

"Ethan, kiss me. Please?"

He obliged. But... as he held me and kissed me, there was a look of pity in his eyes that I couldn't decipher.

After graduation, I became a low-key rich girl. No sugar daddies, no lottery wins, no sudden windfalls. Just one sunny afternoon, my dad, with a straight face, told me, "You're actually a trust fund baby."

I thought he was joking. I was about to laugh when he slammed a stack of property deeds and a bank statement on the table. My hands shook as I opened them. It was all real. I always thought we were comfortably middle-class. Turns out, my parents were masters of disguise.

Later, I asked why they kept it a secret for so long and then suddenly spilled the beans. My dad, full of regret, just said, "Too much whiskey that day…"

Thanks to my parents' financial backing, I opened my dream coffee shop, life was simple and comfortable, until… I spotted Ethan at a karaoke bar. I’d paid $100 to get him, the guy I’d chased for five years without success.

It was my best friend, Olivia's, birthday. We were all a little drunk and made the impulsive decision to get some male escorts. And there he was, among them.

Two years hadn't changed him much. He was still strikingly handsome, his gaze still clear. Ethan always favored white shirts. He had this aloof aura, standing out from the crowd like a prince among paupers.

Three of us, including myself, zeroed in on him at the same time. But I beat them to the punch. "Ladies," I said, "let me have this one."

They grumbled drunken protests, but I shut them down with one sentence: "It's Ethan."

Silence. They all froze, exchanging glances. I'd told them the saga of Ethan and me more than once.

And so, I got my wish. Ethan and I settled back on a sofa in the darkest, most secluded corner of the room, courtesy of my considerate friends.

I sat next to him, feeling breathless, my chest tight. I was the one paying, but I couldn't bring myself to say a word.

Finally, I whispered, "How… how have you been these past two years?"

"Fine." His voice was low, cutting through the music. Just "fine." Then, a long, awkward silence. Until my friends, seeing how pathetically shy I was, ordered more drinks.

Ethan didn't talk, just quietly drank with me. A few drinks later, the alcohol loosened my inhibitions. I was back in the game. The shy, intimidated me vanished. After chugging a beer, I slammed the empty bottle on the table and turned to Ethan.

He was holding his own bottle, his fingers long and elegant. Even his hands were more attractive than most.

I stared at him for a moment, then, fueled by the alcohol, I dug into my purse, pulled out a wad of cash, and shoved it at him.

"Ethan," I slurred, "kiss me. Please?"

He looked at me for a long moment, th...