by Lym Cruz
I blinked once. Then once more. And then again. This was the time my mouth was expected to kick into action and say something along the lines of, come in, or even a simple hello. But the words wouldn’t reel off my tongue.
He was freshly showered. I could tell from his semi-damp hair. The black V-neck shirt he wore stretched lusciously across his chest, clinging tightly to his biceps. His jeans hung low on his waist.
“Is this going to take much longer?” he said and I raised my eyes to level with his. “The inspection?”
I bit my inner cheek and mumbled, “Hi.”
“I brought your book.” He waved the diary, forcing me to wake from my daze.
“You know what?” I let my gaze run over him once more.
“Should I run?” He raised his hand backing away slowly. “Whenever you start with that question ...”
“No.” I gestured for him to come in. “I was going to say that you should loosen your hair every once in a while. I think it’ll suit you better.”
He yanked the ribbon off his hair and swung it from side to side, with a cocky smirk. He was even more gorgeous.
Pouting, I shook my head. “On second thought, you should pull it back up. You look like a member of a boyband.”
“Backstreet or N’SYNC?”
“1D. Harry Styles.”
“Because he’s the hairy one?”
No, because he’s the hot one. “What other reason could there be?”
Chuckling, he handed me the book and then secured his hair back up, a few strands were left hanging down his neck.
“Hungry? I was going to make us a salad.”
“Can I help?”
“Sure. Grab a bowl from the cupboard, behind you, while I’ll get the stuff out of the fridge.”
On my way, I hid my diary in a drawer and from the fridge, I took out the vegetables, cheese, olives, ham and whatever else I found and placed them one by one on the island. I brought out the chopping board and a knife.
“You wash and I’ll dice.”
He nodded and placed the lettuce leaves under the tap. As he finished, he’d transfer them to the board and I’d arrange them in a bowl. When he was done, he moved on to the tomatoes then passed them to me to be sliced.
Ezra’s phone rang, he cursed and silenced it. There was something puzzling about those phone calls. Every time he got one, his demeanor changed. He tried to compensate with a tight smile.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, chopping the tomatoes.
“Yes, just someone I’ll get back to later.” He went to the sink and finished washing the vegetables. I scooted to the right so he could help with the cutting.
“So why did you stop therapy?”
The question was uncalled-for. I suspected he wanted to dodge any further questions relating to the phone call and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. The funny thing was that it didn’t bother me as much.
“I was doing well. Really well. I had everything under control, I was eating healthy, exercising and everything. So my doc said I didn’t need to come in as regularly… eventually, I stopped.”
“What made you slip?”
I shrugged as if I had no clue. “Probably stress or something.” It was my turn to bluntly turn the tables on him. “How about your dad? Do you talk to him?”
“Yes, but we’re not close. Since I moved back home, we sometimes meet in the hallway or in the kitchen and that’s basically the extent of our relationship.”
“I mean about your mother?”
“No, he doesn’t talk about her at all. Everything I know about my mother I learned from Vinnie.”
Nodding, I arranged the tomatoes and peppers in the bowl over the lettuce. There was something I was curious about and I had to ask. “What about Sienna?”
“What about her?” Ezra dropped the knife to look at me. “We’re friends nothing more.”
I peered at him from the corner of my eyes and saw the scowl on his features.
“She likes you.” I twirled to face him and placed a hand on my hip. “Really likes you.”
“No.” His scowl deepened as he established the connection. “No! She’s like a little sister.” He shook his head to emphasize his point. “No!”
I coaxed a throaty laugh. “I got it, Ezra. You don’t need to keep saying no.”
He came closer and tapped my nose. “What about you, do you like me?”
The corner of my lips curved upwards. “Nope, you know I can’t stand you.”
Swiftly, Ezra lifted me off my feet, sat me at the far end of the island and stood between my legs. He smiled, cupped my face and tilted it slightly to the side. He leaned in, placed a wet, open-lipped kiss on my neck then nibbled. I whimpered.
“You may hate me, but your body sure doesn’t,” he whispered against my skin as he continued trailing kisses up the side of my face, to the corner of my mouth and finally at the center of my lips.
All on their own, my hands found his back and I pressed him closer. He was kissing me with ferocity like he’d longed for this moment. I moaned into his mouth when our tongues touched and he replied with his own groan. I slipped my hands under his shirt and pulled it over his head, breaking our contact for half a second then our lips found each other. He palmed my ass, urging me forward and aligning us perfectly.
His hands moved up to my waist but when he tried to go under my shirt. I flinched and pulled away panting. Troubled, he immediately stopped and backed away.
“Are you okay, Christina?”
Nodding, I glanced down.
He lifted my chin until I was looking at him. “Did I do something wrong?”
Besides Denzel, no man had ever seen me naked and I wasn’t sure any ever would. My rendezvous were often in a dark corner of a club. Or in a pitch-black room. Most of the men I screwed were usually too drunk to care where we were and Rob thought it was funny—he called me a vampire.
I wanted to lie but the concern in his eyes propelled the truth out of me. “There is too much light in here. We could go to my room.” My lips trembled. “It’s more private there.”
“You want to hide?”
“I won’t be able to do it if you’re looking at me. What if—what if you don’t like what you see?”
“What if I do?”
“You can’t say that, Ezra. You’ll probably be disg—” he cut me off by setting his lips over mine.
“Don’t ever say that again. You’re not disgusting.” He stared straight into my eyes holding my jaw in one hand. “You’re beautiful.”
“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel better. I’m just speaking my truth.” He deadpanned. “I want you. I’ve been thinking about it since our kiss but if we’re going to do this, then the lights will have to be on.”
His confidence was admirable and made me feel all fuzzy inside. “Not going to happen.”
“I’m patient.”
“You’ll die waiting.”
“At least I’ll die with a purpose.”
“A stupid one.”
He let me go and bent to pick up his T-shirt. This close I could clearly make out his tattoos. There were so many. His entire back was covered and when he turned, so was his trunk. “You have tattoos.”
“Really?” He glanced down examining his chest. “I hadn’t noticed.”
I kicked him with my foot. “Why do you hide them?”
“I don’t. They’re strategically placed. I’m an accountant, and unfortunately appearances do matter. When I have a shirt and tie, no snobby asshole will look down on me or refuse to let me handle their books because of them.”
“Is that how you want to be seen? Like a good boy?”
“I am a good boy.” He placed a kiss on my forehead, slowly moved his mouth to the shell of my ear. “But sometimes I can be bad,” he said in a low, deep drawl. Heat blazed a trail down to my core.
I traced my fingers over the ink. Across his chest
was an eagle with open wings. Beneath it, a skull surrounded by roses. Then some Chinese calligraphy. The writing beneath his collarbone read, if you don’t live for something, you’ll die for nothing.
“What do you live for?”
“I live to live, Christina. Keep moving forward no matter what.” He paused and his eyes darkened. “And now I live to see you naked all gloriously spread out for me. It will probably be amazing.”
A shy smile took over my lips. “Turn around,” I commanded, avoiding his eyes. He spun and I closely inspected the drawings on his back. Taking advantage of the situation, I skimmed my hands over his flesh. It was firm.
“They’re beautiful.”
“Thanks.” He pulled the shirt over his head and helped me off the countertop.
Eventually the salad was done. We sat on the couch watching an episode of Game of Thrones—my pick. I couldn’t believe he had never watched it.
Ezra leaned back on the couch and crossed his hands behind his head. There was one more question I had to ask. One that bothered me most of all. I didn’t need anyone to tell me that I was coming off awfully insecure by questioning every woman he’d brought to his bed. But thoughts had the potential to grow toxic and insecurities were the worst. I needed to put mine to rest.
“Is it true what you said the other day? Are you over the girl you used to draw? Are you over Melissa?”
He flickered his eyes from the screen to me. He didn’t tense or seem uncomfortable. “Yes, I am. I liked Melissa for a long time but she wanted someone else. I accepted it and moved on.”
“But isn’t it weird that I’m her best friend and we’re ...”
“We’re what, Christina?” He simpered. “Kissing?”
I slapped his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”
“Honestly, I thought it would be, but when I saw her at your party it didn’t feel weird at all. Does it bother you?”
“Not really, well maybe a bit. I know nothing happened between you.”
He chortled. “I’m positive you know how many times she stood me up.”
I didn’t want to laugh but I couldn’t help myself. “You should’ve taken the hint after the second time.”
“I’ve learned my lesson.”
I sighed relieved. That chapter was closed. He was over my best friend.
Melissa’s wedding was getting closer and shockingly she hadn’t found a dress. She shuffled out of the dressing room wearing the hundredth wedding gown of the day, at this point, they all looked the same to me—white and puffy. We were surrounded by mirrors and whiteness. The store was decorated in white and clear crystals. I’d never seen so much white and fluff together in my life. It was everywhere.
“How about this one?” Melissa asked, pivoting while a woman followed holding the extensive train of the dress. “I love the neckline.” She ran her hand across it and I was waiting for the but to come.
“But ...” she continued and I sighed with exaggeration. “I don’t like the sparkles on the waistline.”
“Why didn’t you have your dress custom made?” Erica complained, pulling fur off the sofa. “At this rate, you’ll walk down the aisle in a bathrobe.”
Melissa’s shoulders slouched. “Because it’s a small wedding and I thought I could find something off the rack. And now it’s too late.”
“Well you haven’t found anything,” I said. “Start thinking of plan B, the clock is ticking.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Another shop assistant came from the back holding a new bunch of dresses.
“This is, like, torture.” Erica sunk into the sofa covering her face.
Melissa glared. “You should be the last one talking, Erica, after what you put us through to find your dress.”
“It wasn’t this bad.”
“I was a spectator on both occasions and I can impartially say that finding Erica’s dress was horrible—she was the ultimate bridezilla—but Melissa this is worse.”
Melissa pulled a face and then gave the shop assistant her attention. New dresses were hung at her display, she pointed to the next one and stripped off the dress she had on right there, in the center of the room, and stood only in her underwear and bra. Although the bridal store had been closed for her, the shop assistants were there—all female—but they were there, looking at her semi-naked body.
I could never do that.
She got into a new dress and from her expression, I knew it wasn’t the one. Another twenty minutes went by and Melissa was no closer to finding the dress.
While I watched my friend change, I pictured myself wearing one of the downy gowns. The thought made me smile and think of Ezra.
I took out my phone and typed out a quick message to him. Just checking if he had a good night.
“Why are you smiling?” Erica said, then pulled the phone from my hand. “Oh! She’s texting Ezra.”
“Erica,” I snarled. “You’re such a fucking kid. Give me back my phone.”
She scrolled through the texts and before she could read anything relevant, I yanked it out of her hand.
“Melissa,” Erica shouted, hand on her cheeks and blue eyes nearly popping out of her skull. “They’re dating.”
“We’re not.” I punched her shoulder. “We’re so not.”
She rubbed her shoulder but the punch didn’t wipe the ear to ear smile. “Then why are there, like, so many texts between the two of you?”
“We work together.”
“If it’s work let me read them,” Melissa said.
“No.” I dumped my phone back in my bag and zipped it.
“Hum-mm,” Melissa sang, “you shouldn’t be ashamed to like someone. Don’t take too long to own up to it. We don’t want history to repeat itself.”
I rolled my eyes. “History? Please don’t go down the Rob road again. We’ve had this discussion.”
“Things could have been different you know.” Melissa shook her head, lips pouting with disapproval. Immediately the shop assistant came to help her out of the dress.
“Future Mrs. Malcolm, do tell how history could have been different?”
“It’s future Mrs. Alford-Malcolm, I’m hyphenating,” Melissa corrected. “Going back to the Rob issue, you were the one who strictly said that it was sex—nothing else. So, he looked elsewhere.”
I laughed, loud, without a trace of humor. “Talk about twisting facts.” Indignant, I brought my hand to my chest. “You know very well what went down.”
“You shut him out like you do with every other guy,” Erica added. “If you’d opened up more…who knows?”
My eyes darted between the two mystified.
“But,” Erica continued, “it could be different if you admit to Ezra that you’re in love with him.”
“Wow! Slow down. In love? Who said anything about love?”
“Erica!” Melissa shot her a look. “Not that you are in love, just that you like him.”
“I—I,” I stuttered and swallowed. “I like him like a human being likes another.”
“Tell him that.” Melissa smiled. “I’d love to know if another human liked me in a humanly way.”
“Yeah, minus the human part,” Erica said. “Basically, tell him that you like him. Straightforward. Then jump on his neck and kiss him till his balls turn blue.”
They both started laughing, probably amused by the expression on my face. It was somewhere between getting mad and blushing stupidly.
My phone rang, and Dido sang the chorus of Stan. My lips twitched. I tried hard not to smile, however, as the song went on, I lost the battle.
“Aren’t you going to see who it is?”
I knew who it was.
“It’s Ezra,” Melissa said, giggling. “Look at her face. You got it bad, babe.”
“He has his own ringtone?” Erica chimed, attempting to sound offended. “You never programmed a ringtone for me.”
“Or me,” Melissa echoed, delight pooling in her eyes.
“Fuck you both.�
��
They laughed and I ran away from them to take the call.
“Hello,” I said, glad Ezra couldn’t see my face.
“To answer your text,” he said. “I’m actually having quite the morning. I just had a shower—”
I didn’t hear what he said next. I pictured him in the shower. Wet. Water dripping from his hair, rolling down his body. His skin slick. I could even smell his cologne.
“Are you still there?”
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “You were saying?”
“I was thinking about you. In the shower.”
“Cliché.”
He chuckled. “Busy?”
As I was about to answer, Melissa screamed, a high-pitched cry. I turned to see her and Erica skipping. “I found my dress,” Melissa screeched. “I found my dress.”
About time.
I grinned into the phone. “Not at all.”
“Would you like to accompany me on a little road trip?”
Driving around town had become a thing for us. We’d stroll around the streets of San Diego until the moon replaced the sun, and we’d talk about the dumbest things. It was simple but yet incredibly fulfilling.
“Only if you let me drive this time.”
“I hope that by drive you don’t mean drive us off a cliff.”
“Shut up.”
He laughed. “Text me where you are and I’ll come get you.”
It didn’t take long for him to arrive and as I anticipated, we spent the whole day listening to music and driving by the sea.
Chapter Sixteen
Ezra
My eyes were on the computer screen while my focus was on the hushed conversation Rowan was having with two SDPD officers. They kept the tone of their voices low. Now and then I grasped a few sentences when one of them raised their voices.
“Shit, shit, fuck,” Rowan snarled. “That cargo was worth a lot.”
Next, I heard the following phrases: Too much coincidence. Busted by. Nunes. We think … someone ratted on the other side. We did the best we could not to … suspicion.
Satisfied, I continued rerouting money into foreign accounts.
