Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
EZRA
…And to set the record straight I had a very extreme reaction to cabbage and yes I did tell you about it multiple times but you ignored me because you said you hated vegetables and that I was boring…I still miss you though, do you by chance still have the Frey shirt I loaned you?
— Ken
T he brunch table continued to be utter chaos a half hour later when Harper’s Grandma Blue decided to finally show up.
Yes, that was her nickname, no, I wasn’t told why she was called it, but when I asked the question at my first brunch I was met with silence and Harper’s dad making a cross in front of his chest like someone had died, so I left it alone.
Blue it was! I checked my phone for more updates and started in on another bite of sausage when I heard the throat clearing, actually no, it was more of a felt before I heard, like the winds swiftly changing or the earth stopping it’s turn a bit to make room for whatever grandma was about to say.
Grandma immediately started in on critiquing the filming schedule like she was running her own network. “It’s hard on you, Harper, I know it’s summer but you should be having fun too!”
She was right beside me, but yelling in Harper’s direction, even though the other end of the table wasn’t that far. I twitched at the volume.
Harper glared. “You did in fact put me up to this so I could keep that lovely apartment of my dearly departed aunt at such a discounted price and also you know, inherit it in the will when you croak, any day now or should I pencil you in for some time next week?”
Grandma Blue blew her a kiss. “And you wonder why you’re my favorite, you flaunt my impending death like a peacock while your father just quietly marks his calendar in his office and turns to religion.”
Harper choked on a laugh, we all knew that despite this little feud she loved her to death.
Grandma Blue was thankfully healthy as a horse, my bet was on everyone at that table passing before that woman, it was in her veins, in her blood, she was determined to outlive us all and drive us crazy in the process.
Me. Drive me crazy in the process. Despite that fact, Grandma often asked me how my hobby with my little trinkets was coming along—trinkets being computers and programming.
I think she cared somewhere deep down, even about me.
“So,” Grandma said, adjusting her sunglasses like a mob boss. “My money’s on the doctor, Aaron right? But if you surprise me with Ezra, I won’t be mad.”
“Grandma,” I bit back a warning and tried not to groan.
It was always the same with her, only this time it was too close to home.
I reacted the same way outwardly, but internally there was a damn storm brewing.
She shared a knowing look with me. Damn it, I forgot I wasn’t supposed to look directly into her eyes.
Medusa of Grandmas. I glanced to Harper, thankful she was inhaling another cinnamon roll and ignoring Grandma Blue.
Belatedly I wondered if she was going to wear the dress on the second ‘dating my ex’s’ date tonight.
I didn’t think I could handle it if the cinnamon rolls created another dress mishap.
I could feel my control slipping just thinking about it.
Needing to look anywhere but Harper, I made the mistake of looking back to Grandma Blue, who had been watching my every move. Shit.
She looked away first and stared into her champagne glass.
Her very empty champagne glass. Yes, because there were answers along with life’s secrets in the pulp of that mimosa.
I knew what she was about though, she was letting me breathe after nearly freezing from our shared look just a few seconds ago.
After a moment, she turned to her next victim; Harper.
“What? I’m just proud you’re getting it done.
A show, an apartment, men lined up—Harper, you’re thriving.
In my day, all I had was bingo and the mailman. ”
I choked on my next sip of coffee.
Her eyes flicked back to me. Shit. I gained her attention again by showing weakness.
They were keen, sharp those blue eyes. She arched a drawn on eyebrow and lowered her chin, leaning in and whispering.
“And what about you, young man? You planning on stepping in, or just loitering around my granddaughter forever?”
I swallowed hard, set down my cup as calmly as possible and spoke. “If I told you something, would you keep it quiet?” I quickly glanced around the table, making sure our conversation was under the radar.
Grandma leaned back, smug. “Sweetheart, I’ve kept bigger secrets than Watergate. My lips are sealed.”
I stared at her, jaw flexed and stalled in an effort to hold back the words. It took me maybe five seconds to crumble. Five seconds before I finally muttered. “Then…maybe I’ve already stepped in.”
Grandma’s smile was slow and knowing. “Good. About damn time. Now that glass won’t fill itself.”
By the time we were leaving, Harper turned to me with her best begging face. “Please. Maybe this guy’s not going to be so bad. Just… please come with me on this date tonight? I don’t want to be alone. Please? Please!”
I exhaled, the earlier thought of the cinnamon rolls and the dress coming back into the forefront of my mind.
“I’ll read your favorite dirty book out loud.”
I cursed under my breath. Who was I kidding, I couldn’t stay away. Might as well get something else out of it. “ iOS for Dummies it is.”
I should have lied.
I should have pretended my phone battery died and suffered a long death, or that I was in a medically induced coma after getting choked out by her dad during brunch.
Instead, I agreed to torture. Sounds fun. Sign me up. When would I ever learn?
So a few short hours later, I wandered into a college dive bar in the U district—wedged between two undergrads who kept glancing over at me like I’d wandered into the wrong place, wrong time, wearing the wrong outfit.
Because what kind of thirty-something date took place here? The music was too loud. The drinks were mid, and the food was so overpriced it was criminal. I pulled out my phone and reviewed the guy’s details. He’d claimed he’d “turned over a new leaf.” I called bullshit.
Last I knew, he was peddling Herbalife with the enthusiasm of a man selling seats to heaven. No shade if that’s your jam, but his whole pitch to me had been “financial freedom” and “boss babe energy,” which sounded like the starter pack for bankruptcy.
He couldn’t have changed that much, right? And, more importantly, had he aged like fine wine—or like whatever grows on cheese when you forget it in the back of the fridge? I prayed for a forgotten Gouda, I really did.
The only thing Harper had ever liked about him was that he was a good kisser. Which, in my experience, was not enough to balance the whole narcissist who talks about himself 90% of the time thing.
I was about to order another water when Harper walked in.
On time.
In the dress .
The dress I’d helped her basically tape to her body, my palms grazing her breasts more than once while she accused me of being a pervert and I accused her of being a masochist for wearing it. Why did I have to know exactly how smooth it felt beneath my fingertips?
I exhaled too hard like I’d just finished an expedition in the Artic or a climb up Kilimanjaro, or in my case a very exhausting walk into a high-end bar of Gen Zers. Their aura alone was exhausting.
“Hey,” the girl next to me whispered loudly. “Are you okay?”
“Huh?” I nearly knocked over my glass in shock she was even speaking to the elderly. “Yeah? Why?”
“You keep… breathing really hard and staring at the door. It’s okay. I get freaked out in big spaces too. Sometimes it helps to count sheep.”
I blinked at her. “Isn’t that for sleeping?”
She frowned. “Is that why it’s never worked?”
I stared. “You serious?”
She nodded solemnly, then crossed her legs in the tightest, shortest red skirt I’d ever seen. Definitely concert or Tinder attire. Possibly illegal.
I waved my phone like a peace flag and barrier between us. “Just waiting for someone.”
Her eyes widened. She scooted toward me with an ear-splitting squeak of leather stool on tile. “I knew it. I’m so lucky. I heard some K-pop idols were bar-hopping tonight, and now I’ve found one! Which group?”
I looked over my shoulder. “Pardon?”
“You’re Korean!”
I ground my molars. I had a mirror, cool thanks. “Half Korean, my mom is Swedish. And I’m not a musician.”
“Of course you are,” she said, patting my arm. “You have a Samsung Galaxy.”
“…What? I’m sorry, I’m confused.”
How much could a woman blink? And why so fast? Was she fanning my face with her lashes? “Korean idols always have Samsungs.” She laughed and flicked her wrist. “It’s a loyalty thing.”
“Do you… study Koreans?” I asked slowly. “Also, that’s not a thing. A ton of people worldwide use Samsungs. It’s not just an Asian thing—which, by the way, is kind of insulting.”
She clasped her hands over her chest. “And so smart! What’s with the disguise? Hats and sunglasses indoors? Hiding from your fans?”
Clearly, I wasn’t getting out of this alive. I leaned in conspiratorially. “Okay, you got me. But I don’t want my label to drop me. Keep this between us, yeah?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re so brave.”
“It’s hard,” I said gravely. “Some days.”
“Just sing it out,” she whispered. “Give it to the music gods.”
“Oh, I’ll give it something,” I muttered, already plotting the earful Harper was going to get for dragging me to a campus bar.
That’s when I spotted her again—storming past the tables, one stiletto in hand, the other still strapped on.
I tossed cash on the bar. “Gotta go.”
Outside, she stomping away, hobbling actually. I slipped into stride beside her and started talking: “Learned your lesson and took the shoe with you this time, hmm? Cinderella? Princes are overrated anyway.”
She spun on her heel—her one remaining heel—and brandished the other shoe like a weapon.
I put my hands up. “That wasn’t an invitation for violence.”
“He’s the worst!”
I squinted. “Did you at least get any content?”
“Five minutes. Maybe six.” She huffed. “Seven. I lost track, okay? I was too busy not committing homicide.”
Something in her tone prickled the back of my neck. Her mascara was smudged, her hands shaking.
I dropped my voice. “Do you want me to go back in there? Yes or no?”
She swallowed, looking down.
“Harper.” My tone went lethal. “What. Did. He. Do.”
“He liked the dress,” she said finally.
“…Okay.”
“A lot.”
“Explain.”
“He touched?—”
I didn’t wait for the rest.
Red flooded my vision as I barreled back inside. He was at the bar, leaning in too close to the K-pop conspiracy theorist, his hand on her chin.
Nope.
I tapped his shoulder.
He turned, all greasy hair brushing his cheap baby-blue suit jacket, reeking of discount cologne. “Yeah?”
“You don’t just touch someone without their permission,” I said.
He smirked, looked me over like I was a speed bump. “Any girl willing to go on that many dates that fast is asking for something. Dressed like?—”
I didn’t let him finish. One punch. Hard.
He toppled into a barstool, hit the ground with a thud.
“I’ll SUE!” he screeched.
“Try it. You’ll lose. The date was on her phone—camera and all.”
I turned to leave but caught movement—too late. Something slammed into the back of my head.
We went down in a tangle of limbs on the floor as he swung wildly. I countered with my right hook, sending him sprawling across a table.
I dropped a business card on the bar. “For damages.”
It took everything I had not to shout Clark Kent out , but Harper came first.
I got her in the car, got her home. Didn’t even notice the blood until I was in her bathroom.
When I came back, she’d downed an entire bottle of wine and was halfway into another.
“You good?” I asked.
She burped.
I laughed. “Attractive.”
She glared, then softened. “Your eye!” She set the bottle down and crawled into my lap, straddling me before I could react.
Every muscle in my body locked.
Her thumb brushed the cut under my eye, removing my glasses. She blew on it, the smell of red wine flooding my senses along with every bad idea I’d ever had about her.
“I always forget,” she murmured, her blurry eyes locking on mine. “How pretty you are without glasses.” Our noses touched. “I should remember, it’s weird I forget.”
Weird was not the word I’d use.
“You’re drunk,” I said.
“I’m aware.” Her nose slid against mine. “I should kiss my prince charming. Tired of frogs.”
“I’ve always hated amphibians.” I breathed the words, waiting, indecision freezing me.
“Me too.” She leaned her head on my shoulder, then slid off me and onto the couch, laying her head in my lap. “Too bad you’re not supposed to kiss your best friends. What’s that song? About the way they taste? I taste like red wine.”
She was killing me.
She rolled to her side, her hands gliding across my stomach, my hips. Every inch of me screamed.
“It’s wrong,” she whispered.
I shifted, trying not to lose my damn mind.
She scooted closer, wrapped her arms around my waist, face pressed just above where I was hardest.
“Mmm.”
I stayed still until she fell asleep.
Every painful breath reminded me—if I didn’t try one last time, I’d regret it forever.
I’d be Vex. I’d save her from herself, from humiliation—and maybe from me.
I grabbed my phone, opened the group chat with my crypto-addicted brother and his wife.
Avengers Assemble.
Two thumbs up. No questions asked.