Chapter 8 #2
The tiny Boston seafood place smells like buttery lobster, toasted bread, and lemon slices. Meredith looks radiant in her white sweater, hair blown out perfectly. Carlton looks nervous, which is fair, since last time the four of us were together at Dot’s party, everything kind of blew up.
Ezra sits so close to me, our knees touch under the table. It’s way too casual, too natural. I have a hard time looking at Ezra, so my gaze naturally falls onto Meredith and Carlton instead.
Meredith narrows her eyes, her expression practically flashing, convince me you’re not secretly in love with my boyfriend.
I lean into Ezra, letting my shoulder rest against his arm. “You smell good. Is that a new cologne?”
Ezra blinks like he’s caught off guard. I almost kick him under the table, but he catches on quickly and smirks, draping his arm over the back of my chair.
“No, but thanks. You smell really good, too.” Ezra matches my energy with so much charm I nearly choke on air.
He nuzzles his face into my cheek and presses a quick kiss to it.
“Wow. You two are, like, really cute,” says Meredith.
Carlton clears his throat. “So, uh, how did you two officially get together again?”
I want to fling myself into the harbor because these questions still make me nervous. But Ezra launches into a ridiculous story about me falling off the bleachers at his practice and him catching me. None of it makes any sense, but Meredith actually giggles.
When our meal ends, we all walk to Boston Public Garden.
Ezra’s hand brushes mine, and I don’t pull away, even though I should for my own sake.
Meredith and Carlton are ahead of us, so they’re not technically watching.
But this is still supposed to be a double date, so I let Ezra thread his fingers through mine and soften a little when he rocks on his heels for half a second while waiting at the crosswalk, the same way he used to when we were kids.
It’s such an old, familiar habit that something in me loosens before I can stop it.
For one stupid second, he feels less like the boy who hurt me and more like the one who used to sit beside me in class and make me laugh.
The park has always looked to me like something out of a painting.
The famous suspension bridge arches over the water like an image on a postcard, casting its rippled reflection across the thawed water.
Weeping willows sway their long branches, brushing the surface like fingers trailing across a silk blanket.
There have been times Boston is slammed with blizzards this time of year, but we’ve hardly gotten any snow, and the bits we have keep melting, refusing to stick around.
When we reach the entrance to the swan boats, the operator waves us forward. “Two in each row, please. Keep the seating balanced, please.”
Ezra’s hand settles lightly on my back. “Front row?”
I look over at Meredith, who is totally still watching us. It’s almost like she still has doubts that Ezra and I are a real couple. So, I’ll just have to show her she’s wrong.
“Front row.”
We sit side-by-side at the very front of the boat. Meredith and Carlton claim the row behind us.
The operator takes his place at the back of the boat, behind a giant swan sculpture, and begins paddling.
Water laps against the sides of the boat as it slowly glides forward.
The air smells like pond water, sweet flowers, and someone selling ice cream in waffle cones nearby.
Ezra stretches his arm casually behind me again. “Are you cold?”
“No, I’m fine.” But I’m not even thinking about the weather right now. All I can think about is how close Ezra is.
Behind us, Meredith asks, “Can you take a picture of us? We’ll take one of you, too.”
“Of course.” I turn in my seat and angle Meredith’s phone at her and Carlton. She poses with minimal effort like she’s currently on set, and Carlton leans his face into hers and smiles.
“Thanks,” she says, taking the phone back. “Okay, your turn.”
We both smile, and she takes a few pictures before saying, “Look at each other for this next one. I think it would be cute.”
With my stomach in knots, I face Ezra. He studies my face carefully, like he’s memorizing it, and as his gaze flickers to my mouth, it feels like the boat slows down and the chatter fades, even though it doesn’t.
Cupping my cheek so gently it’s almost reverent, his thumb skims my jawline. Every nerve in my body lights up. His hand is so soft against my face, I completely forget where we are as he strokes my cheek, and my pulse hammers in my ears.
“Those were adorable!” Meredith squeals, breaking me from the trance. “I’ll send them to you, Rue”
“Yeah, really good pictures,” says Carlton, but his enthusiasm sounds forced.
Ezra’s eyes lock with mine, holding my gaze in a way that feels new and vulnerable. I force myself to look away.
Is this all for show, or does he feel this, too? Is it just me?
The rest of the ride is quiet, but I can’t help but lean into him as we sit. Just for the moment, I let my imagination get carried away, pretending we’re a real couple and this is a real date.
When the boat docks, Meredith and Carlton say goodbye to us on the bridge.
“That was fun,” says Meredith. “Thanks for meeting us.” And then she hugs me. My chest squeezes with happiness, and Carlton gives me a grin that actually looks genuine.
Ezra walks me to my car, hand brushing mine with every step. “Goodnight, Sullivan,” he says softly.
“Goodnight, Davis,” I whisper back. The flutters in my chest run a marathon as he meets my eyes before he shuts the door for me.
And even though everything between us is supposed to be fake, it doesn’t feel that way. Not right now at least.
Instead, it feels perfect. And that’s the part that worries me. As nice as this all feels, I need to remember it’s not real. Otherwise, I risk getting hurt all over again.