Chapter 30
CHAPTER
THIRTY
HARPER
What else rhymes with bed? I’m writing you a song, I know, so hot. But seriously, all I can think of is Fred rhymes with bed and well...I’m not gay and I don’t know a Fred.
—Rex, from the one-man-band, Rex is Sex.
T he second Ezra said, “You don’t have the right,” Aaron shot to his feet.
“Hey, man, back off.” Aaron slid between us like he was some kind of human shield.
Ezra’s laugh was cold, humorless. “Cute. You think you’re protecting her?”
Aaron’s fist connected with Ezra’s jaw before I even processed what was happening.
“OH MY GOD!” My shriek cracked through the music—just in time for Ezra to swing back and nail Aaron in the ribs. Aaron stumbled, crashing into a table full of leather-clad bikers. Beer bottles toppled. Glass shattered.
The bikers stood as one, their table creaking under the weight of spilt whiskey and pure testosterone.
“Oh, hell,” I whispered, right as Aaron lunged again. Ezra met him halfway, their fists colliding with the sound of thunder.
Lila screamed, hands flailing uselessly. “Ezra! Stop it! You’re acting like animals!”
But the crowd was loving it. Phones out. Shots being chanted like it was Fight Night instead of Friday Happy Hour. “Hit him! Hit him! HIT HIM!”
Someone shoved past me, nearly knocking me into a barstool. My grip tightened on the nearest thing I could reach—oh great, a steak knife. Perfect. Totally casual accessory.
The bartender leaned over the counter, unfazed, wiping down a pint glass like this was just Tuesday. “Get them the hell out before they wreck my place.”
Security finally plowed in, dragging Ezra back by the arms while Aaron spit blood onto the floor, still lunging forward. Both looked like they’d rather die than stop.
Lila threw up her hands, shrieking over the din. “You’re all insane! Completely unhinged!” Then she spun on a stiletto heel and stormed toward the door, snapping at her phone until a cab screeched to the curb.
But of course, she couldn’t resist one last parting shot.
“Look, thanks for helping me with the whole brand-new laptop thing—and for being paranoid enough to worry I’d buy the wrong program or RAM or gigabytes or…
teradatycles? Whatever. The point is, yeah, you’re clearly good at your craft, Ezra.
But honestly?” She swept a hand toward all of us, eyes flashing.
“It was just an excuse to see you. And it’s not worth turning into a meme. Even I have my pride.”
She tilted her head, delivering the killing blow. “Some of us need to grow up. And for the love of God—a computer is a computer. PC or Mac. Does it really mean life or death?”
Oh. Shit.
She went there.
Even Aaron took a step back.
And Ezra? Rage full-on descended. The StarGate opened and it was not closing anytime soon.
I swear I saw Babylon 5 fly past his eyes. Followed by Deep Space Nine. Images of all things Sci-Fi Channel, laptops, and graham crackers—the cinnamon kind—just erupted. She hadn’t just insulted him. She’d spit on the holy trinity of Ezra: computers, Star Trek, and snacks.
“Wow,” Aaron muttered under his breath.
“Fuck you, Aaron!” Ezra roared, lunging like a man possessed.
I scrambled between them, arms flailing, adrenaline and hysteria crashing through me. “ENOUGH!” I jabbed a finger at Aaron. “I’ll call you when we aren’t in public yelling.”
Then I turned my glare on Ezra. “Don’t follow me unless you want a machete up your ass.”
I sighed, already stomping away, but threw one last bone over my shoulder. “And I’m sorry she slut-shamed your laptops and crapped all over The Stargate. I’m still pissed, but…not cool. So not cool.”
I stormed home, my boots cracking against the sidewalk, rage carrying me up the cursed staircase to the apartment I suddenly hated. Cheap rent, neon sign screaming creativity, and network contracts carved into my skin like shackles.
“Thanks a lot, Grandma,” I muttered, storming to the bathroom as if I could wash away everything else—the cameras, the humiliation, the sheer insanity of tonight.
“Harper.”
Ezra. It was Ezra.
I froze.
“Harper.”
It was sharper this time, more insistent, and it slammed straight into my ribcage. My heart lurched, hammering against my throat as I spun.
Ezra filled the doorway. Jaw already bruising from Aaron’s punch, eyes darker than midnight, shoulders set like he was ready to take on a war.
He had no right. No right looking that dark and dangerous after a bar fight—like some avenging angel who’d forgotten which side he was on. No right standing there with his lip split and his gaze burning holes in me over…laptops. Laptops and lies.
My mouth went dry.
“We need to talk.”
“I’ve talked. You’ve talked. This is why we’d never work.
This is why I stayed away. This is why I drew the line in the sand—the line you so stupidly crossed in the name of saving me.
Guess what? I can save myself! I could’ve hired an actor.
But no. You had to swoop in. What is this, Ezra?
A savior complex? Or did you just not want me to find the perfect guy?
” I threw my hands up, flailing them actually, letting them punctuate the words that spilled out.
His voice was calm. Terrifyingly calm. “I’m the perfect guy.”
I froze.
“And there’s no chance in hell I’m letting some other man touch what’s mine.
What’s been mine. The line you drew?” His mouth twisted into a dangerous half-smile as he stalked toward me.
“Fuck your line. Try as hard as you want, Harper, I’ll decimate it every single time.
Build a wall. Build ten. I’ll tear them down.
I’m not walking away. Not now. Not ever. ”
Rage—and something else—surged hot through my chest. I shoved him hard. “You don’t let me do anything!”
I shoved again, pounding my fists against him until we stumbled into the living room. My hands grabbed the nearest pillow and I hurled it at his face.
He caught it, dropped it, and lifted his hands like he was facing off in some deranged domestic standoff. Then he grabbed a potted plant.
“Put it down!” I snapped.
“You first,” he said.
“You’re insane!” I launched myself at him anyway. He caught me effortlessly with one arm and slammed me onto the couch. His face hovered above mine, breath hot, jaw bruised, eyes feral, and plant somehow set down unharmed in the process.
“You should’ve run.”
His weight pressed me into the couch cushions, bruised jaw shadowing over me, eyes wild with fury and something darker.
His eyes pinned me, molten and furious, and I felt every nerve in my body light up like a live wire. My heart thrashed in my chest, loud enough I swore he could hear it.
“What happened to talking ?” I hissed, shoving at his chest even as his weight pressed me deeper into the couch. “You’re on top of me making empty threats we both know you can’t cash. What is this, Ezra? You get a little taste of your best friend and now nobody else gets a bite?”
His jaw flexed, that dangerous tic I knew too well.
“We covered sharing in kindergarten,” I went on, words tumbling out, sharp and breathless.
“You always liked playing fair. So what’s the reason, huh?
You say you didn’t know the cameras were in there.
And I’m assuming nobody’s watching us now.
So tell me—are you just that horny and alone, my little asexual friend, or do you actually?—”
He slammed his mouth onto mine, biting my bottom lip so hard I gasped.
“Sometimes,” he growled against my mouth, his breath scorching, his eyes so dark they nearly swallowed me, “I ache to shut you up so bad it hurts worse than the raging erection I get every time you say my name.” I struggled against him.
“Besides,” he rasped. “It’s too late now and I’m not leaving until you hear all of me, feel all of me, understand all of me, even if you reject me, publicly shame me and call me names, though let’s draw the line at nerd, still hurts. ”
I froze for half a second, lips throbbing where he’d bitten me. Then I laughed, sharp and breathless, because of course I did. It was the totally wrong situation to do it in and I was freaking delirious!
“Oh, wow. That’s poetic, Ezra. Really. Shakespeare could never. You ache to shut me up? You get hard when I say your name? Should I start charging rent for all the times I’ve lived in your head?” I rolled my eyes. “What would it be? The one and only time someone played with your favorite toy?”
His hand fisted in the couch cushion beside my head, knuckles white. He was close enough I could taste the frustration pouring off him, feel the heat of his body pressing mine into the cushions.
“You want me to admit it?” His voice was low, rough, like it scraped up from somewhere he didn’t want me to see. His forehead brushed mine, deliberately, intimately. “Fine. I don’t want to share you. Not with Aaron. Not with anyone. Not even with your damn phone.”
My breath hitched, traitor lungs starving for more.
His eyes searched mine, reading me like the open book I never wanted to be, catching every flicker I couldn’t hide. “You wanted to know the reason? It’s not loneliness. It’s not sex. It’s you. It’s always been you. And I’m done pretending it isn’t.”
The room spun. My pulse jackhammered. My mouth opened, ready to fire off some quip, some wall, some anything?—
But his lips crashed into mine again, silencing me in the only way Ezra knew how.
“Get off me.” I shoved his chest, but it was like shoving a wall and my protest was weak, it was like what I knew I should say with my mouth when my body was already trying to figure out ways to make my clothes evaporate.
He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand, the other braced by my hip. His mouth hovered over mine, his breath uneven.
“I’m not letting you go.” His voice was a growl, low and intimate, the kind that vibrated all the way down my spine.
“And you don’t want me to,” he went on, steady now, like he was peeling back every excuse I had left.
“Because deep down—in the darkest, dirtiest parts of your mind—you want this. You’d take a little angry sex, a little fighting, biting—” He sank his teeth into my shoulder hard enough to make me gasp.
“You wouldn’t even flinch if I drew blood.
But you’d never say it out loud. Because what would people think? ”
My chest heaved. My body betrayed me, arching toward him.
“But guess what?” His lips brushed my ear.
“I’m your best friend. I know you. I know how your body’s panting for mine right now, how your heart’s rattling against your chest. I don’t kiss and tell, Harper.
I don’t need to. Because I already know the darkest parts of you.
And before this night is over, I’ll make every single one of them come true so hard you won’t walk straight for a week. ”
He pulled back just enough for our eyes to lock, his mouth curved in a dangerous smile. “Now…are you going to play nice, or do I need to grab some rope?”
My breath hitched, a whimper clawing up my throat, one I bit down on before it escaped.
“Ezra—”
His mouth crashed onto mine, devouring, furious, desperate. My legs wrapped around his hips without permission, my nails dragging down his back. Every shove turned into a clutch, every protest drowned in a kiss that felt like it would incinerate the world around us.
And then—he stopped. Just like that. His forehead pressed against mine, breath ragged, eyes shut tight.
“God help me,” he whispered. “You undo me.”