“He told me you don’t have to follow through with it until you’re thirty.”
“By the time we’re thirty,” I correct him. “My parents want it to happen immediately after college.”
Ezra blinks, his dark lashes full where they line those beautiful amber eyes. “Which means you have ten years, at least, to have fun. Why not start now?”
Annoyance trickles in my head like rain. “Because I’m supposed to save myself-“
“For what?” he asks, interrupting me. “Mason doesn’t care.”
I’m not sure why the comment stings, but it does. Not because of Mason. What he thinks or does means nothing. It’s more because I’ve been trapped in perpetual wait for a marriage I don’t want. Like the only reason for my existence is to be someone’s wife.
“If my parents find out-“
Pressing the soft pad of his thumb to my lips, he doesn’t let me finish the thought.
“Just fun. And they won’t find out. I’ll make sure of it.”
“How?” I ask, the movement of my lips allowing his thumb to brush the front of my teeth.
Taking advantage, he slips it in my mouth, presses down on my tongue so forcefully that I shudder. That small reaction sparks fire in his eyes, his lips slightly parting.
I can’t deny how weird this is, I’m practically sucking another person’s thumb, but it feels right for a million reasons I can’t figure out.
Keeping his thumb in place, he leans down to speak against my ear, his chest softly brushing mine, his breath hot against my skin.
“Because if anybody says a word about it, I’ll hurt them.”
The look in his eyes tells me he means it. But not just that. In a way, it feels like Ezra is arching over my body protectively, like I’m somehow vulnerable and he’s the only person strong enough to watch over me.
It’s a strange feeling to have, but it’s there, just on the edges, a bond formed after he showed me the secret of his bruises, and I revealed the secret of my inexperience.
My gaze drops down to the mark on his shoulder again, the direction of it like someone was holding onto him from behind, a punishing grip that sets my teeth together and my jaw painfully tight.
Before I can mention it, noise erupts in the house beyond the room, laughter and catcalls and voices rising up. The door opens again a minute later, all that noise rushing at us without being muted.
Ezra’s body twists to growl at whoever dared walk in this room, every muscle tense, like a beast ready to rip out the throat of any person threatening what he protects.
Ava squeaks and looks away, but she doesn’t shut the door. “We have to go, Emily. It’s Ivy.”
Oh, God. What has Gabriel done?
It’s only then that I realize Ezra’s thumb is still in my mouth, the pad pressing against the muscle so that I can’t immediately speak.
Pulling away, I stare up at him. “I have to go.”
He doesn’t appear to care, but he crawls off me anyway, our eyes still tangled together as I sit up and become angry that I can’t finish whatever was happening between us.
I’m on my feet when he grabs my hand, amber eyes locking to mine with a silent promise that will follow us into adulthood.
“I mean what I said,” he reminds me. “I’ll hurt anyone that -“
“Let’s go, Emily.”
Ava’s voice is urgent, which means whatever Gabriel did to Ivy must be bad.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath before opening them again.
“I don’t want you hurting anybody, Ezra. And I don’t want anybody hurting you.”
Something unsaid rolls behind his eyes, wild and shadowed. He releases my hand, a quick untangling of our fingers to signal that the odd moment is over.
Forcing myself to break our stare, I run to the door where Ava is waiting, my body hesitating for only a second longer before I rush out entirely to leave Ezra’s and my secrets behind.
Emily
Ezra wasn’t lying. Which honestly surprised me. I hadn’t expected him to keep his word.
On Saturday night, I’d left him in a dark room with the secret of his bruises and the secret of my inexperience, and I thought, with those secrets, I was also leaving a promise behind to linger in the darkness before it fizzled out entirely with time and disinterest.
Apparently, Ezra carried it out with him, held onto it, and followed through with it when the first opportunity arose for him to show me he meant what he said.
He nurtured those words.
So when Thomas Alexander made a passing comment about my banging both the twins, Ezra hurt him for it.
He made an example of him, actually, and also demanded Thomas spread a message through school with two black eyes and a bloody nose that any mention of Emily Donahue and who she kisses is strictly off limits.
I wasn’t there to see the fight, but like everything that happens in school, the story spread like wildfire.
At first, I was kept in the dark, only noticing when the boys I’ve known my entire life looked at me like some new girl that’s interesting, while the girls held even more envy in their eyes than I’m accustomed to.
There was jealousy in their eyes as well, ugly and green, something they’ve never shown around me.
I’m not like Ivy or Ava with the ability to date who I want or have much freedom. I can’t date unless it’s Mason. I can’t go to dances unless it’s Mason. And since Mason and I can’t stand each other, the girls in school have no reason to be jealous of me.
It was Ivy who finally told me what was spreading around school, suspicion arching her brow because why would Ezra do something like that if all we did was kiss?
And that was all before the third bell rang this morning.
It’s after fourth period now.
As usual, Ivy comes out of calculus with wariness in her expression. I laugh and shake my head because she hates math more than anything, even if she’s damn good at it.
Linking our arms together, we head down another hall to pick up Ava from her class, the three of us taking our time dropping our books off in our lockers before heading to the lunchroom.
We never eat in there because the lawns out back are preferable, but Ava likes their salads and always insists on stopping to grab one.
“So...” Ivy says, blue eyes peering my way from where she stands on the other side of Ava.
I don’t like the sound of that quick syllable, especially the snap of it from Ivy’s lips. It feels weighted, several hooks stuck through its skin with wriggling questions hanging from them. Somehow I know they’re questions I don’t want to answer.
“You want to tell me what was really going on between you and Ezra in that room Saturday night?”
“About as much as you want to talk about walking to the car looking like Carrie with red paint all over you,” I answer, a smirk on my face because her white blond hair is still stained pink from where she couldn’t get all of it out.
“Fucking Gabriel,” she mutters. “I’ll get him back for it. But sure, I’ll talk all about it when you finish telling me why Ava said Ezra didn’t have a shirt on and you two were laying on the bed.”
A groan crawls over my lips, and I shoot a look at Ava that’s dripping with disdain for opening her mouth.