Chapter 22
Rue
I get to school early on Wednesday morning, and when I arrive, I find Mabel, Dot, and Meredith sitting atop a picnic blanket on the grassy area out front.
Since there’s been hardly any snow this year, I’m not surprised they’re taking advantage of the crisp air before class. The grass is still a little damp, but the sun is out, and the sky is that pale winter blue that promises spring is trying to come back.
“Hey, guys.” I plop down beside Dot, tucking my legs under me. “What are you doing?”
“Just running some lines,” Mabel says with a sweet smile, holding up her script.
Meredith shrugs, flipping a page. “I’m feeling good about all my scenes, but it can’t hurt. As you know.”
I nod, even though I’m not acting this time. A small ache presses against my chest, but it’s not one of longing for once. More like nostalgia.
Mabel’s eyes flick up over my shoulder and light up. “Oh, look who it is.”
I turn to see Ezra walking toward us. It’s ridiculous how my stomach immediately flips like I just missed a step on the stairs.
He has his backpack slung over one shoulder, curls slightly messy like he didn’t bother fixing them after showering, and there’s something about the way he looks at me that makes my pulse trip over itself.
I can’t help but wonder if he feels it too, the shift between us, the way we’ve gotten closer.
“Hey.” He grins when he reaches us.
I smile back at him. “Hey.”
Ezra shifts his weight, glancing briefly at the others before focusing back on me. “Can I steal you for a second?”
“Steal away,” Mabel says with way too much enthusiasm.
I shoot her a look, but I stand anyway, brushing off my skirt and tights as I follow him a few steps away from the blanket.
“What’s up?” I ask.
He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking…nervous? Ezra Davis. Nervous. “We’re having a thing tonight,” he says. “At Tucker’s. Just a small party before the playoff game on Friday.”
“Oh.” I blink. “Am I obligated to be there, as your fake girlfriend?”
I mean it to sound like a joke, but Ezra blushes. “Actually, I wasn’t even going to go, but I thought it might be more fun if you were there.”
My stomach flips. “So, what you’re saying is that you need me to make it tolerable?” I tease.
“Desperately. I might die otherwise.”
“That would be tragic.”
“For everyone involved.”
I bite back a smile. “I guess I could save your life.”
His grin softens. “So you’ll come?”
I hesitate for half a second. Not because I don’t want to go, but because the thought of going to a party with him for reasons unrelated to our arrangement has me reeling. “Yeah, I’ll come.”
His shoulders relax. “Cool. I’ll pick you up.”
We walk back toward the blanket together, and I can feel three sets of eyes tracking us. As soon as he walks away, Mabel leans forward. “Well?”
I shrug. “He invited me to a party.”
“Oh,” says Mabel. “I thought it was going to be something juicy.”
Meredith hums. Then she says, casually, “Speaking of juicy, it’s kind of weird Little Birdie hasn’t posted about any of us lately.” Her eyes flick to mine. “I mean, you’d think with everything going on, there’d be something.”
Dot shrugs. “Maybe the new person got bored.”
“Or ran out of material,” Mabel adds.
Meredith’s gaze lingers on me a fraction too long before she smiles faintly. “Maybe.”
My chest tightens. She knows. But how could she, Rue?
Unless she was the one who entered you in the first place.
By the time Ezra pulls into my driveway that night, my nerves are wound so tight I feel like I might snap.
Not just because of the party. There’s also the post I still haven’t scheduled for today, and Meredith’s tone this morning.
I can’t help but feel like she knows my secret, and it’s making me uneasy.
I’ll just have to find a moment at the party to repost something trivial in my inbox to ease her suspicions.
Surely, Ezra will be focused on the road while we’re driving and won’t be able to see what I’m doing on my phone.
He knocks twice, and I grab my purse from the hook in the entryway before I can overthink anything. Mom is sitting on the couch with her laptop, answering work emails, and she cocks her head at the door. “Let him in. I want to have a word.”
“Mom, no,” I groan.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
When I open the door, Ezra is already standing on the porch. “Hi, Mrs. Sullivan,” he says, all polite charm.
Mom stands from the couch, setting her laptop on the cushion. She meets us in the doorway and studies my fake boyfriend like she’s evaluating a suspicious product. “Ezra,” she says. “You’re tall.”
“…Thank you?”
“And you drive?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Then you drive carefully.”
“I will.”
“And you’ll have her home at a reasonable hour.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you won’t hurt my daughter again.”
Ezra freezes.
I close my eyes. “Mom—”
“I won’t,” he says quietly.
Something in his voice makes me look at him. His expression holds the weight of his words, and it’s so intense I have to look away.
Mom softens a little. “Alright, then. Have fun.”
I hurry out the front door, and Ezra’s hand on my back guides me to his car. “That was intense. I thought she was going to keep that up much longer.”
I laugh. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He helps me into the passenger seat and grins at me with that blinding smile. “It’s nice to witness someone show they care about you.”
Then he shuts the door. The tightly wound nerves in my stomach unravel.
As we weave in and out of traffic to Tucker’s house, I bounce my knee.
I don’t know why I’m so high-strung over tonight, but I’m hyper aware of Ezra’s every movement next to me.
He parks on the street, and we get out of the car.
Ezra meets me on the sidewalk and drapes his jacket around my shoulders.
When our eyes meet, my chest stirs. “You ready?”
“Of course.”
Tucker’s house is loud with music and laughter when we walk in. Tightly-packed bodies line the halls and living room, but the kitchen looks a little more spacious than the rest of the house.
“Hey,” Ezra says softly, leaning closer. “Stick with me.”
“I plan to.”
His hand brushes mine, then lingers. And just like that, we’re on. We move through the crowd together, exchanging hellos, and squeezing between people for at least an hour. It’s all a blur of the same small talk, so much so that it feels like we’re there for much longer.
At one point, someone from the team captures Ezra’s attention—a guy named Johnny, I think. He lifts a cup and says, “Watch this.” He tries to balance his cup of punch on his head while dancing to the music, but it falls and makes a mess all over the wood floor.
“Dude.” Ezra shakes his head. “Don’t be messing around when you have no balance.” He takes a step toward the kitchen but immediately slips on spilled punch. He goes down hard, and I stare at him for a second in shock. A few people around us shout, “Oh!” They stretch the word out.
“Are you okay?” I reach down to help him up, and he takes my hand.
“I’m fine.” But his cheeks are pink, and he’s shaking his head in embarrassment.
I can’t help it. I lose it before I even help him up. Like, tears-in-my-eyes, can’t-breathe laughing. I clutch my stomach, unable to breathe.
“Rue,” he groans from the floor. “You’re supposed to help me.”
“I can’t. I physically can’t,” I gasp.
He gets up, dripping and offended, and before I can recover, he grabs me.
“Okay,” he says. “You’re done.”
“Ezra—”
He lifts me. Actually lifts me, slinging me right over his shoulder.
“Put me down!” I laugh.
“No.”
He carries me out of the room while I’m still laughing, my hands gripping his shoulders, my face pressed into his hoodie as I try to catch my breath.
With his foot, he nudges open a random door and sets me down on an office chair.
The door shuts behind us, and the sounds of the booming music and laughter are muffled. My laughter fades into something softer. He kneels on the ground in front of me, shaking his head with a grin on his lips.
“You’re mean,” he says. With me in the chair and him kneeling in front of me, we’re close.
Really close.
I muffle another giggle. “You fell.”
“And then you laughed at me.”
“Because you never fall. And I knew you were okay.”
He shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. And then his expression shifts into something softer. His gaze drops to my mouth before returning to my eyes, making my heart race.
“Rue,” he says.
“What?”
He hesitates. “None of this—” he gestures vaguely between us “—feels fake anymore.”
I’m at a loss for words. “I—”
His eyes search mine. “I don’t want it to be fake.”
My heart races. Adrenaline rockets through me as his gaze tenderly searches mine.
“I don’t either,” I whisper.
His shoulders sag in relief, but a soft smile appears on his mouth. “Then what are we doing?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, because I don’t. I don’t know anything except how badly I want to press my lips against his, right here and now.
He must feel the same way because he nods, and his next words come out so soft they’re almost a whisper. “Can I kiss you for real?”
Everything in me stills, but I nod.
He doesn’t rush it. Ezra leans in slowly, like he’s giving me time to change my mind, but I don’t. When his lips meet mine, they’re soft, careful, and real. Something inside me lifts, like I’ve been tethered to the ground this whole time and just now realized I can fly.
When we pull back, I’m breathless.
“So,” he murmurs, forehead touching mine, “that felt pretty legit.”
I laugh softly. “Yeah.” Somewhere in the distance, music thumps, voices echo, and the party keeps going. But in this room, it’s just us. And for one perfect, dangerous moment, I forget everything else.
And then my phone alarm blares through the room from my back pocket.
My stomach drops the moment it goes off. No, no no.
There’s no way I forgot. How could I?
But when I check the screen and see that it’s practically eight at night, I realize it’s true.
I missed my Little Birdie posting deadline.