Free In Love with a Gentleman by Elisa Ellen Page A

crazy,” I say. “ Mysterium tremendum et fascinans .”
    Catherine thinks the comment is hysterical and laughs. I laugh along with her, but my heart’s not in it. I don’t want to admit it, but I feel myself falling for Ethan. He really is my dream guy, tall and broad shouldered with dark hair and eyes. This dream guy is the reason poor Jens from Hohensyburg didn’t have a chance with me from the outset. Ethan curls his lips in a way that makes him look so serious, and he doesn’t laugh when others do. He’s mysterious, a bit secretive, and irresistible. Just a few days ago I loudly proclaimed how much I liked being single—and now this! Crap, crap, crap!
    Let it go, Lea , a warning voice in my head tells me. Falling in love will just make your life more complicated and exhausting—that’s not what you want . But I feel like an invisible vortex is dragging my soul in the direction of the elegant, quiet guy sitting at the end of the sofa. I try not to look at him so I won’t get carried away altogether, but it’s useless. It feels like there are only two people in the entire room: Ethan and me.
    The evening marches on. The red wine is not very good, but I still drink more than I should. I’ll definitely end up with a hangover tomorrow. My cheeks redden, and I feel wild and free. I’m naturally outgoing, but when I drink too much, I become even more extroverted and exuberant. I’ve been told I’m the life of the party. I do look at life in a quirky way, and my vivaciousness tends to thaw others out. I can feel that happening now, and it would be an even better party if quiet, elusive Ethan wasn’t there, sitting at the end of the couch. Ethan. He reminds me of the cat waiting for more crêpes to fall down from the ceiling. Although I’m in a good mood, he vexes me.
    A little later, I find myself getting tired and leap to my feet. “It’s late. I need to go home,” I say to Catherine. I have no idea whether it’s really late or not. I’ve lost all sense of time.
    But Catherine agrees. She looks at her watch and nods. “Oh, yes. You’re right. It’s time to head out.”
    “Are you going to take the bus?” Anne asks us. “I don’t like that idea. It’s too late, someone might harass you.”
    Ha , I think, if you only knew, Anne! I’m already feeling immensely harassed here in your living room . Ethan’s presence makes me think incessantly about him and nothing else.
    “I’ll drive you home,” Anne says, but Ethan interrupts her in a calm, authoritative voice.
    “That’s out of the question, Anne,” he says. “You’ve had too much to drink. I’ve only had water all evening. If someone’s going to take the girls home, it definitely should be me.”
    Oh great! He doesn’t even ask us. And he called us “the girls” as if we are still babies. How old is he, anyway ? I think with irritation. Did someone say twenty-seven? He’s only four years older than I am. And, although he appears to be rather sophisticated, he doesn’t look particularly old. On the contrary, he looks lanky and youthful. This guy is kind of driving me crazy.
    Ethan stands up and holds out his hand to Catherine, helping her to her feet. I feel a hot attack of jealousy. I have the urge to sit down again so that Ethan can help me up, too. That, however, would definitely be beneath my dignity. Instead, I hold my head high and say my good-byes. Although I drank a little too much, I don’t think anybody notices.
    In the hallway, I find my coat and swing it over my shoulders. It suddenly feels very light—somebody is holding it.
    “Allow me,” Ethan says. “It’s too cold out there for you to not put it on properly.”
    I hold my arms out like a doll, and Ethan helps me put on my coat. His hands rest on my shoulders for a second, and I feel electric shocks shooting through my body. Crap , I think for the hundredth time this evening. You are in trouble, Lea! You’ve fallen head over heels for this guy . My knees tremble