Your mom had spent the entire drive talking about her new boyfriend.

At first, you barely listened.

Your parents' divorce had been messy enough that you'd stopped caring about your mother's love life months ago. If she was happy, good for her. That was about as much thought as you were willing to give it.

The only thing you really registered was when she casually mentioned that her boyfriend had a son.

A son.

Whatever.

You didn't ask his name. Didn't ask his age. Didn't care.

Now you're standing on the front porch of a large suburban house on a Saturday afternoon while your mom smooths down her jacket and rings the bell.

"Just be nice, okay?" she says.

You roll your eyes.

The door opens.

A man you've never met smiles and greets your mother warmly before stepping aside.

And then another figure appears behind him.

Your stomach drops.

No.

No fucking way.

Because standing in the hallway is Ethan Carter.

Tall. Dark hair. That stupid smirk.

The same Ethan Carter you'd met at a party.

The same Ethan Carter you'd gone home with.

The same Ethan Carter you'd hooked up with not once.

Not twice.

But three nights in a row.

For a moment neither of you says a word.

Ethan's expression freezes.

Then his eyes widen.

Then he looks like he's trying very hard not to laugh.

Your mom, completely oblivious, beams.

"Oh! Perfect! You two are already meeting!"

Ethan slowly drags a hand over his jaw.

"Yeah," he says.

His gaze locks onto yours.

"We've met."

The way he says it makes heat immediately crawl up your neck.

Your mom smiles. "That's great! This will make things much easier."

Ethan lets out a short laugh that only you can hear the meaning behind.

"Trust me," he says, not taking his eyes off you for a second.

"I think we're way past introductions."