7. Andi #2
“I get it,” he says with a sigh, his gaze jerking over my shoulder to where I know Stuart and Carter are probably watching our interaction.
“But your mom seems to have a fuckin’ hard-on for us getting back together.
Stuart actually agreeing to let us stay a bit longer confirms to me that he’s probably been instructed to do shit to support that.
I know we’re over, okay? I’m just—” he runs his hand through his wild red hair, “—if pretending I want more is what gets you to stop looking like you’re dyin’ inside, then of course I’m gonna pretend. ”
“Okay,” I murmur softly, clasping my hands nervously in my lap. “As long as it’s pretend. I have—”
“A pack. I know,” Ezra sighs, running a hand through his gelled-up hair. “How about you tell me ‘bout ‘em?”
“You really want to know?” I ask, blinking in shock. My lips quirk up as I think about my guys.
“Yeah,” Ezra says, his voice going soft. “How many of ‘em are there? I assume that male omega’s thrown into the mix.”
“Beck? Yeah,” I nod. I mull over his question, trying to figure out a solid number.
“What’s that hesitation for?”
“Oh, well, I know for sure there’re four,” I say, my brows drawing down.
Memories of Cameron flash in my mind—him directing the interviews and the shots when we were back in Beck’s hometown, him complimenting my suggestions, his somber agreement that if my dad was an asshole, he’d leave with me even though he idolizes my dad’s work.
Shit, maybe this solitary confinement is messing with my head even more than I thought, if I’m starting to think I have a crush on the guy who cornered me outside of a club bathroom to blackmail one of my boyfriends into an interview.
“Know for sure?” Ezra says with a huff. “So there’re options you don’t know for sure?”
“Sorta... Maybe option. Definitely not options plural.”
“Okay. So, four. But maybe five. Pretty big pack, if you ask me. Not surprising, though. You’re dope.”
“Dope, huh?” I let out a quiet, undignified snort that Gina would probably throw a hissy fit over if she knew I made a sound like that in public. “Good to know I have glowing reviews.”
“Dope is the highest form of compliment, what do you mean?” Ezra shoots back with an eye-roll of his own. “So the male omega, I’ve been seeing you guys all cozied up, but who are the other guys?”
“I met them through Beck.” I can’t help the fond smile that appears on my lips at the thought of how I met each of the guys. “There’s a beta, Leo, he’s Beck’s publicist and childhood friend, then there’s Eli, who’s also Beck’s childhood friend and manager.”
“Tight circle,” Ezra grunts. “Must be nice.”
“Yeah,” I nod. I think Ezra and I both understand what it’s like being surrounded by teams full of people that don’t actually give a shit about us.
“Real nice. I was honestly a little jealous of Beck when we first met. He had so many people in his corner.” Sounds like you have them in yours too, if you guys are all packed up. ”
Ezra’s words stop me in my tracks. I want to say yes; I want to hope that the guys are doing whatever they can to get me help, but what can they really do, legally? And once they realize they can’t do much, what other options do they have other than continuing to move forward and live their lives?
“Had,” I mumble, blinking to try to ease the burn I feel behind my eyes.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry.
Ezra’s fingertips begin tapping on his thigh, and I watch the movements, taking a deep, steadying breath to the rhythm.
With brute force and willpower I didn’t know I still possessed, I shove the threat of tears down.
Gina would probably start throwing shit if there is any photographic evidence of my tears fucking with my makeup tonight.
Hopefully she wouldn’t throw herself down any more stairs... but you never know with her.
“I dunno,” Ezra says slowly. “Maybe they’re still tryin’ to figure out a way to help you.
I can’t imagine these guys getting to know you and not doing everything in their power to help.
” He says the words so earnestly that they stop me in my tracks.
I think I believe him. Because if Ezra Fletcher and all his self-centered, spoiled, douchebaggery seems to be genuinely trying to help me, why wouldn’t all my guys be trying too?
“Yeah, maybe... I hope so,” I say, swallowing hard past the lump in my throat.
“Okay, so that’s three, who’re the other two?”
“There’s Everett, he’s—”
“Wait a sec, Everett? As in Everett Vaughn? The label exec?”
“You know Everett?”
Ezra shoots me a look that says, no duh, before rolling his eyes. “Of course I do, Andi. The guy’s a legend in the music industry.”
“Oh,” I say. Honestly, with how attentive Ezra has been to me lately, I’ve completely forgotten about his own music career. Damn, does that make me a bad friend?
No, I don’t think so. Well, I certainly hope it doesn’t. I’ve had a hell of a lot on my plate recently, and Ezra and I haven’t really had a lot of time to talk.
“Damn, Andi, aiming fuckin’ high,” Ezra says with a quirk to his lips that looks like genuine... pride? It’s so different from what I’m used to seeing in Ezra’s expression. “Okay, so that’s the main four. They make you happy?”
“Yes,” I say automatically. “Happier than I ever thought I could be.”
“I’m glad. You deserve it, Andi. You really do,” Ezra murmurs before his expression turns mischievous. “Maybe when all this shit is over, you can introduce me to Everett Vaughn.”
“Like hell I will,” I snort, rolling my eyes. There’s that flash of the old Ezra I know, self-centered and saying stupid shit. “Do you have a fuckin’ death wish? They’re not fans of you at all.”
Ezra’s expression immediately sobers and a wave of guilt so strong it makes his espresso scent turn bitter and thick in the air around us, threatening to choke me.
“You’re right, dunno what I was thinkin’, sorry,” he mumbles.
“It’s... It’s fine, Ezra. Look, I get that we have our arrangement. I’m glad you’ve seemed to turn a new leaf, but they’re... probably not gonna get it. At the end of the day, I honestly think I’m only spending time with you ‘cause I have to.”
“I mean, that makes sense,” he says with a rare, self-deprecating smile. “Anyways, I wanted to hear about all of them. Who’s the fifth guy?” he asks, turning the conversation back toward me.
“The fifth guy is Cameron. We met... in a bit of a weird way.”
“Weird? Weird how?” Ezra asks, leaning back in his chair, seemingly back to normal, eagerly awaiting more information.
“Oh, well, he’s a journalist for Northline and he kinda cornered me outside the women’s bathroom at 4Pine when I was out with the others. He really wanted an interview with Beck and thought I’d be the best way to get to him I guess?”
“And you’re into the guy?” Ezra snorts. “Kinda a downgrade from the Everett Vaughn, Andi.”
“Hey, don’t judge me,” I huff. “There was a time I was into you, so obviously I never claimed to have stellar taste in men.”
“Shut up.” There’s no real venom in Ezra’s words. It makes the tension in my shoulders relax ever so slightly.
“I don’t know If I’m into him yet; we only met recently. But... maybe, I guess? We didn’t have a chance to explore anything before, you know,” I say, gesturing around to indicate the whole conservatorship situation.
“Sounds like quite the group of guys,” Ezra says.
“They are. I’m... I’m really lucky I’ve met them all. I’ve learned a lot about myself, you know?”
“Yeah,” Ezra’s voice has gone all low and soft again as he stares at me in a way that leaves me feeling a little off kilter. “I get it.”
“It’s time to go,” Stuart says, interrupting our conversation and standing from his seat, Carter following close behind. “Are you ready?”
Stuart’s thirty minutes turn out to be closer to twenty, according to Ezra’s fancy watch I glance down at, but I’m not about to argue semantics with a man who looks like he moisturizes with vinegar.
He has the sour personality of a pickle too.
I can’t help but notice the way he’s asking Ezra, instead of me.
I’m pretty sure that’s intentional.
I’ve been getting the impression that everyone—namely him, Gina, and Jonathan—all prefer me to be seen rather than heard. I’ve never been a very good actress, but it’s a lot easier to pretend to be whatever the hell they want me to be when I keep my mouth shut.
But I can’t waste this opportunity. This is the first time I’ve actually been let out of the house.
“I need the restroom,” I say, already standing before anyone can tell me no.
“Wait!” Stuart huffs, standing from his seat.