Chapter 3 #2
“Does he give other kinds?” Ren earns a homicidal glare from Raph before he turns to his husband again.
“You wanted honesty, Piglet.”
“You could have been less…” Michael’s words are cut off by Sari’s greeting. “Hey!” He’s waving his hand, walking toward the table with Uri behind him.
“You just arrived in time for Michael’s delicacies,” I warn them.
“Fucking hell!” Uri quickly turns around and goes back inside the cottage, leaving Sari behind. I find it very hard to stifle my smile as I push my chin toward my chest.
“Ezra should try it first,” Sari hurriedly says, his delicate features scrunching up.
Ezra is here? My head snaps up as I look at the back door of the cottage, feeling the usual crazy flutter of excitement starting in my belly. But the door remains closed.
“Right! He didn’t try my food yet.” Michael is smiling again. He stands up and goes for the paella tray, but Raph beats him to it.
“Now you want to help me, Raph?”
“Babe…” I hear them continuing to argue as they head back inside the cottage.
Sari sits near me. He looks a bit worn out—either his job or Uri kept him busy yesterday.
He pushes his long braid over his shoulder, and with a warm smile, he starts asking Ren and me questions about our classes.
He’s the sweetest member of the brotherhood and the only one who doesn’t enjoy killing.
He established a medical research facility with Raph and works in the labs doing a lot of good.
I want to be like him one day, but with animals.
I can’t concentrate on what he is saying to Ren now, though. My eyes keep flickering to the back door, willing for it to open and let Ezra walk through it. When it finally happens… I’m not ready for it. For him.
My breath falters as he strides out, looking as hot and intimidating as ever.
Just like the first time I saw him eight months ago, it seems like all the air has been sucked out of the place.
My mind becomes paralyzed, I get tunnel vision, and my sense of reason turns hazy.
My body temperature is warming at a dangerous rate, hitting my cheeks, neck, and belly.
I’m once again taken aback by how tall he is. I’m not short, but I know he towers over me by at least two inches, with broad shoulders and a handsome face that makes something inside me quiver.
My breath gets caught in my throat as he steps forward.
His golden skin glows in the spring sunlight, and I can’t help but admire him.
He’s wearing a thick gray hoodie with the zipper half down, black jeans that wrap perfectly around his long legs, and dark Timberlands.
Sunglasses are covering his beautiful eyes.
He’s moving toward the table, and it’s like I’m slowly choking with the increasing pressure in my lungs.
Will he sit next to me? But no, he chooses the chair near Ren at the opposite side of the table.
I shake myself and let out the breath I’ve been holding.
There I go, letting my imagination get ahead of me again. Why would he sit next to me?
I try to get a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye without being too obvious—I hope.
His head is canted to the side. The sunglasses are hiding his gaze, but—unless my brain is doing tricks on me—Ezra is unabashedly staring at me.
It can’t be. My insides squirm and form a tight knot.
There must be a reasonable explanation for this sudden interest. He’s watching…
to ensure I’m not going to abruptly catch fire—even though I feel like the flames of embarrassment are enveloping me already.
I can’t help my body’s reaction. Every single aspect of the man is stunning.
Gods, that green bandana around his forehead, I bet it emphasizes the nearly iridescent color of his eyes.
Locks of different shades of caramel are clipped short on the sides and left longer on top, some falling across the side of his face.
Each movement he makes lets the light unveil slightly different colors, all layered over one another.
His features are perfectly put together, forming a masterpiece. His sharp jawline clenches slightly, which only enhances his full lips, always in an unforgiving line—I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile.
My eyes fall on his hand as he grabs a glass from the table. It seems strong and capable, with short nails and long calloused fingers. The movement pulls his sleeve back, and I can see the number eight on his wrist, the brand those fucked-up scientists burned on his skin.
Oh! “That’s my glass,” I blurt too loudly at him before the rim touches his mouth. He must have taken it by mistake.
Ezra doesn’t halt his movement as everyone around the table stops talking.
“Afraid of infecting him or something?” Ren jokes.
“What could Sully have? The kissing disease?” Ash snorts.
“Mononucleosis,” Sari clarifies.
My breath halts inside my lungs again as I keep looking at Ezra drinking from my glass until he downs all the water in it. Did his lips linger on the rim? Was that the tip of his tongue I saw?
“It spreads through saliva, mostly via sharing utensils and close contact rather than kissing,” Sari adds with a small smile my way.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t have mono,” I let slip. I haven’t kissed anyone since the spin the bottle game I played during a high school trip.
Ezra puts the glass in front of me and refills it with water. If I drink from it, would it be like an indirect kiss? Wait, I already drank, and then Ezra did, so the kiss already happened. Right? I feel like a fucking teenager talking about mono and indirect kisses. Gah!
Pink moves on my lap, reminding me where I am. I sit back, forcing myself to relax. She jumps down and runs to the door as Uri appears again. I blow some locks out of my eyes while I attempt to find something to say to Ezra.
I have a bit of a crush on him—if it wasn’t clear. Probably because he’s the only one in the family who doesn’t handle me with kid gloves. He goes in the opposite direction, actually, like he couldn’t care less that I’m even here. He usually doesn’t even come to these gatherings.
The only time I found myself alone with him was seven months ago.
I tried talking to him, but he didn’t seem interested in conversing back.
He only responded with noncommittal sounds and let awkward silences sit between us while he stood with his hands in his jeans pockets.
His behavior turned me all fidgety. He always has such a commanding gaze, I can’t look away during the rare times he aims it at me.
And when he talks? His deep voice comes out raspy and sexy.
Ezra reminds me of the time between dog and wolf, a French saying.
It’s the time of day when the sun is at a certain height in the sky, and its light is such that it becomes difficult to distinguish between a dog and a wolf.
The light comes up from behind, illuminating everything else while enveloping the animal in temporary darkness.
Just like Ezra is surrounded by mystery, I can’t tell if he’s a loyal dog or a wild wolf.
If he’s known or unknown. Friend or foe.
That’s what makes my crush on Ezra even more thrilling.
The impossibility, the illusion behind it.
I know it won’t get anywhere. Ezra barely knows I exist.
I’m too delicate-looking—pale skin, big eyes, small upturned nose, and lanky body on top of the awkward demeanor.
From a very young age—too young—I’ve had men leering at me.
Most of them were my father’s friends, drug dealers, thieves, abusers, losers—they made my blood turn to ice.
Thankfully, Ollie was there to protect me, and I started hiding myself under loose clothes and big glasses to avoid those repulsive gazes.
But when I imagine Ezra looking at me, his eyes following down the line of my body and all the way up again until they lock with mine, disgust is the last thing on my mind.
I would feel sexy, even tempted. The only thing a virgin like me can do, though, is fantasize.
Like creating a masked man and having him ravish me in my dreams. Could I be more pathetic?
Lori is right. I need to actually experience things.
Sensing a new determination filling my chest, I push back my chair and walk inside the cottage. Ollie and Rague are in the kitchen, plating food and groping each other. Ugh! Hearing my brother giggling still feels weird.
I walk down the hallway and close the bathroom door behind me.
My reflection in the mirror is looking back at me.
Black glasses, bright cheeks, wind-tousled hair, and trembling, chapped lips.
I catalogue what I’m wearing and wince at the puffy jacket, loose jeans, and oversized sweatshirt with a small tear near the collar.
I hate shopping, but I need to stop hiding and step into this scary, wonderful world.
I’ve moved to the university dorm, but I could easily still be living here since I’m not embracing the fun part of being a student.
I’ve been too cautious. I need to remember that my whole family is behind me.
They’ll never let anything else happen to me.
One breath at a time, one step at a time. And now is the time to do more.
I take off my jacket and leave it on the stool near the sink.
I relieve myself and wash my hands. I know what to do when I go back to the dorm.
I’m going to use what Lori left in my desk drawer.
I’m kind of excited about it, and I’m still thinking about it when I make my way out and forget the step just outside the bathroom.