I turned my attention back to Ezra and sighed in ecstasy. He was bent over to keep the water from dousing his jeans and shoes. It ran over his hair, face, and neck as he scrubbed the black soot away. Oh my gato. He was so flipping beautiful. When he was done, he turned off the water and stood; rivulets of water sliced down his chest and abdomen. I bit my bottom lip, because that was what Ezra Brandon did. He made me bite my lip like some sex-crazed lunatic in one of those period romance dramas.
He walked toward me, the water cutting over his shoulders. He smirked at me, and my hands covered my eyes.
“Too much,” I told the air in front of me. “It’s just too much for one girl to endure.”
When he reached me, he pulled my hands down. “Are you okay?” he asked, looking concerned.
“Yes,” I squeaked, averting my eyes. “Here you go,” I said, noticing a housekeeping cart a few rooms down. I ran toward it and picked up a towel, bringing it back to him.
“Gee, thanks,” he told me, drying off his hair, face, and neck.
Gee? Gee! Don’t say adorable things like gee, Ezra, or I won’t be held responsible for the utterly psychotic reaction I would inevitably have, which would probably involve me licking the water sliding down your neck right now. My tongue darted, and I knew I had to get out of there. I sprinted toward the GTO and approached his bag.
“You need a shirt,” I squawked, channeling the Mad Hatter.
I could feel the heat from Ezra’s body at my side. I lifted the lid to his case to get him a T-shirt, but he slammed the case shut, shocking me.
“I was just going to get you a T-shirt,” I told him.
He leaned over me. “I’ve got it,” he breathed silkily.
“Oh, okay.” I shivered.
Ezra kept my gaze, reached in quickly, retrieved a tee, and let the lid fall before zipping it closed. Never breaking our stare, he pulled on the T-shirt. There was a strange intimacy to the act, and I felt my throat go dry. Okay, now I really do need that water shifting down his neck. Don’t get distracted; he’s hiding something.
I smiled at him and he smiled back.
“What’s in the bag, Ezra?” I asked. I could see my question surprised him.
“I have a dead body in there.”
“Cool. Let me see it.”
“Uh, well, I’m not really comfortable showing you my dead bodies so…”
“What’s in the bag, Ezra?”
“An extensive collection of celebrity hair.”
“That’s disgusting. What’s in the bag, Ezra?”
“My Pokémon memorabilia. It’s a little embarrassing.”
“Just a little?” I smiled, reaching for the lid.
Ezra startled, reaching for my hand. “Jupiter,” he sang.
“Ezra,” I sang back, landing on the zipper.
He started to laugh. “Jupiter, don’t,” he told me when I began unzipping the case.
His hand stopped mine, and there was a zap of electricity between us, warming me up from the inside. It swam up my arm, coiled in my belly, and took up a happy residence there. I began to inch the zipper back.
“You know, I like this playful Ezra,” I told him, slowly making progress with the zipper.
He didn’t stop me but he kept his hand on mine, sending a thrill up and down my spine.
“I’ve always been playful,” he said.
“You were playful before the accident but not after.”
It was the wrong thing to say. He yanked his hand back, taking mine with it, and slammed the trunk closed, locking it with his keys. I didn’t know how to keep a good thing going. It was as if we were made of this colorful ink, but my words came down in a downpour, washing all our wonderful, bright paint down at our feet, never to be brought back to life in that moment.
Color me Cecilia Giménez.*
*Cecilia Giménez is that cracked-out old Spanish woman in her eighties who attempted to “restore” a priceless nineteenth-century fresco of Jesus and royally messed up. #SMDH
“I’ll get us a room,” he said, turning and walking toward the motel office.
I sighed, strolling the direction I’d seen Kai walk, and followed the line of the building toward the back courtyard with its ancient but well-kept pool and retro aluminum umbrellas under tables lining the pool itself.
The place literally hadn’t made a single update since 1956, it seemed. A tall, elderly man with horn-rimmed glasses walked by, a towel draped over his arm.
“Buddy Holly? Is that you?”
He stopped. “Huh?”
“Nothing.”
I walked around the pool and courtyard area but didn’t find Kai anywhere. I circled the entire building looking for him, but he never came into view. I skirted past the front, back to the GTO, and found Ezra there.
“Get the room?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, dangling an actual key in front of me.
“Good God, that’s a key. To an actual lock.”
“Quite the detective.”
“Hey! I— well— you—” I stuttered.
“Good one,” he zinged.
I huffed and crossed my arms. “You’re a punk. And an ass. You’re a punk ass.”
“Come on,” he said, opening the trunk and yanking bags out of the back. He looked around me. “Where’s Kai?”
“How should I know?”
Ezra took his phone out and texted presumably Kai. “Room four thirteen,” he said, throwing his head toward the corner room closest to the car. He stuck the key ring between his teeth, picked up both our cases, and barreled his way to our room. I followed, scrambling to catch up.
“I can carry my own bag, Ezra.”
“Nnngghhhgg aaa woooogggnntt rrrr rrr.”
“How could I negate an argument like that?” I oozed.
He stood at the door, so I took the keys from his mouth, grazing stubble when I did, and ignored the restless tumbling in my stomach because of it. I opened the door and held it open for him. He dropped the bags on the bed and I walked in after him. The room had wood floors that creaked underneath our feet, creeping me the flip out. The beds were updated with modern comforters, but they were about the only modern thing in the room. The fixtures and furniture hadn’t been moved in sixty years, I could tell, though, I admit, it was all very clean.
I peeked my head into the bathroom and it was very, uh, pink. Pink tile on the floor and walls, pink tub, pink toilet, pink sink. Pink.
“We’ve got a Pepto-Bismol situation up in here,” I said, before realizing the double meaning in that. My face grew hot. “I mean, uh, you know, like, not me or anything. I mean, I don’t have a Pepto-Bismol situation.” My hands gestured toward the bathroom in a circular motion. “The bathroom itself has a Pepto situation. You know, ’cause it’s pink.” Ezra stood at the end of the bed looking baffled. “Yeah, so, uh, I suppose I’ll go look for Kai then,” I said, making my way toward the door. Again.
“Jupiter,” Ezra said softly, catching my forearm in a warm palm, “stay. Shower. I’ll go look for Kai.”
“Oh, okay, yeah, that’s a good idea,” I said, flustered by his touching me.
Anytime his skin touched mine, my stomach plummeted at my feet. It felt like that time Frankie and I rode Space Mountain, but, you know, without all the puking. I told her chili dogs were a bad idea.
When the door closed behind him, I ran to my case and whipped out my soaps and stuff, a new set of unmentionables, another pair of cutoffs, and my T-shirt that read You’re suffering from a lack of Vitamin Me. I practically skipped to Pepto and started the water, waiting until it got hot before switching on the shower. I stripped down and jumped in.
Since I was alone, I started to sing “YOLO” by The Lonely Island, because that was my go-to jam in the shower. The song was a cautionary tale of the dangers of a careless life. It included sage advice about investing in real estate with a low interest rate and sauna habits. It also had a dope beat. You really do only live once.
I washed my hair
and even cleaned between my toes, something I never really did, if I was being honest. The water ran black for several minutes, so I rewashed every little nook and cranny until it ran clear. I turned off the water and kept singing at the top of my lungs while I dressed and dried my hair. I opened the door to let out the steam and leaned against the sink to do my makeup.
I rapped Kendrick’s part while applying my mascara, but it didn’t quite translate right since I always form an “O” with my lips to open my eyes better. I dug through my makeup bag and pulled out my vanilla extract. I wasn’t allowed to wear perfumes because, you know, my parents, but my mom did let me wear vanilla extract, so I carried a bottle around with me.
I put a small dab of coconut oil in my hand and spread it over my palms to run throughout the length of my blonde curls to keep them in order. I flipped my head over to get the back then danced out of the room ass first and right into something solid. That something solid grunted. I stood abruptly, my blood racing.
Slowly I turned around to meet this intruder. It was Ezra. Of course it was Ezra. I closed my eyes, desperate to ignore the heat growing in my face, and looked up toward the ceiling.
“What fresh hell is this?”
Ezra leaned against the wall outside the bathroom, a small smile on his mouth. “Enjoying yourself?”
I felt my face flush again. “How long have you been listening?”
“Oh, right about the start of the second chorus, I believe… The first time.”
“But you said you were going to go look for Kai!”
“I did!”
“Did you find him?”
“I did.”
I buried my face in my hands.
“Kai?” I mumbled through fingers.
“Hello, Pavarotti,” Kai answered from somewhere in the room.
“Somebody, please kill me.”
“And deprive ourselves the pleasure of your lovely voice?” Ezra asked. “Never.” I let my hands fall at my sides. “You sound nothing like Charo, by the way,” he told me, entering the bathroom and closing the door.
I fell on the bed next to a very dirty Kai. “This is your bed,” I told him, my voice muffled in the comforter.
“Okay by me. You can just share with Ezra then.”
I sat up. “Don’t do this,” I begged.
“Do what?” he asked, feigning innocence.
“This,” I said, gesturing to his whole body with rapid hand movements. “Dig in to me now that you know what I feel for Ezra.”
Kai smiled in answer at me, letting me know he was definitely going to be digging in, then placed a hand behind his head as he flipped on the television with the remote with his other. The news started and my stomach fell a little. I’d forgotten about the fire.
“Have you heard anything?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, flipping the channel. “They got it out. Nobody got hurt. Only a few trees fell. It’s already old news.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, flipping onto my back. My head laid near Kai’s feet, his socks a shocking bright white in comparison to the rest of him. I crossed my bare feet on the headboard and let my hands fall toward the edge of the bed.
“This bed is kinda comfy,” I said, bouncing up and down a little bit.
“You’re a dork.”
“I know.”
“I’m starving,” Kai said.
“Maybe after you shower we can all go grab something to eat.”
“Sounds like a plan, Stan,” he said, picking up his charging phone and messing with an app or something.
“I really like him,” I whispered.
Kai sat up and threw himself beside me, tucking his hands beneath his chin. “Oh my God, like, tell me all about it.”
“Shut up!” I couldn’t stop laughing. Kai sat back against the headboard and picked up his phone again.
“So what? Lots of girls like Ezra,” Kai said, shrugging.
I giggled a little bit. “Are you jealous of your cousin?” I asked him.
Kai signaled toward his admittedly pretty magnificent body, one that didn’t look much different than his cousin’s, by the way. “Does it look like I need to be jealous of Ezra?”
“Have you looked in the mirror today?”
He shook his head. “When I am showered and shaved, I am a beast, Jupiter.”
“I concede the point, though you could use a little spoonful of humility,” I told him.
Kai smiled. “Humility is for punks.”
I laughed, but the laughter died slowly, much like the murdering clowns in my nightmares.
“I know lots of girls like Ezra.”
Kai set his phone on the nightstand and looked at me. “Ezra is a different breed, though. He doesn’t care about that stuff. He’s a focused individual. He got his heart broken once and it changed him, kind of changed the way he handles stuff. I don’t know. This shit is too deep for me.”
“He’s still hung up on Jessica then?”
“No, he’s over her for sure, but I also know he told me it was pretty hard to get over her. Ezra seems to love people deeper than they love him.”
Don’t tell me stuff like that!
“And so he’s done?”
Kai smiled, his eyes crinkled with the gesture. “No, not done, extremely selective.”
I nodded.
Well, that rules me out then. Damn.
Seems I was going to be spending my time getting over Ezra Brandon on the trip instead of the opposite. You know, heh, heh, getting under him. <—I’m a grown-up. ’Cause that’s the opposite. The opposite of over is under. I’m a punny genius. Not that I’d had any intention of getting under Ezra Brandon or anything. I mean, I was about as virginal as you could get. If it were two hundred years in the past, I’d have been first to be pushed in the sacrificial volcano. I wouldn’t have even argued. That’s how much of a virgin I was. Anyway, I just killed my pun. Shot it dead. In the street. Like a dog. He even did that thing that all bad puns do where they squirm on the ground in a fake seizure. That’s how dead my pun is. Dead.
Chapter Ten
We’d all gone to dinner that night then straight to bed for an early morning departure. When we loaded up the car, I slipped a twenty in Ezra’s pocket when he wasn’t looking for my third of the motel then snuck away like a thief in the night, who, well, gave money away instead of stole it. I needed to go to thief school.
I did a little jig by my side of the car, channeling my extensive knowledge of Irish dance obtained by hours glued to PBS Riverdance specials, when the boys went to check the room for straggling belongings. Ezra emerged as I’d clapped the side of my boot in a stellar dance kick. There was a bra dangling from his index finger.
“Egad!” I said, stopping my victory dance. I loped to him and yanked the garment from his hand, tucking it underneath an armpit. I felt my face flush. “Heh, I, uh, must have forgotten it last night after my shower.”
Ezra’s brow raised in amusement, making me want to fall over in mortification, and stuck his hand in his pocket to pull out his keys. The twenty came with them. I started whistling and examining the edge of the motel roofline. Because whistling is inconspicuous. I saw it in a cartoon once. It didn’t really work out for that character, but I had high hopes.
“What the—” Ezra said. He held up the twenty between his index and middle finger. “Kai, is this yours?”
“Nah, man,” he said, pulling back the front passenger seat to get into the back.
I whistled louder, studied more intently.
Ezra looked at me, his brows furrowed, his eyes serious. His mouth opened, presumably to speak, but I stopped him with a very convincing argument. “It’s not mine! It’s not mine!”
Nailed it.
“Gosh damn it, Jupiter Corey! What did I tell you?” he shouted, running around the front of the GTO. My heart started to race. He yanked me up by wrapping an arm around my waist and plopped me on the hood of his car. I gasped like a schoolgirl. Which is ironic, I know. Note to self:
Make Ezra angry more often. He set the twenty by my hip then took my calf in his hands and began untying the laces of my right boot. I tried to yank it from his grasp, but he brought it right back to him.
“Don’t. Move,” he ordered, making my blood race through my veins.
He took the boot off and laid the twenty flat inside before placing it back on my foot and lacing it back up. I fought the urge to fan myself.
He leaned forward. “Don’t try something like that again,” his deep voice settled across my ears. He released my leg and let my booted foot dangle.
He picked me up again, his hands scorching, and set me down. He left me standing there, dazed and confused.
“Get in the car, Jupiter.”
I stumbled to the car door in an Ezra-induced stupor and opened it slowly. Ezra was already inside and had started the engine as I sat down, closing the door behind me.
He backed out of the parking lot and made his way toward the on-ramp. Kai poked my shoulder, so I turned toward him. He wagged his brows at me, causing my face to flush hot as I fought a smile. It was gonna be hard to get over Ezra Brandon if he kept touching me like that.
“What’s our next stop?” I asked him.
“Nashville.”
“Nashville?” I asked.
“Nashville?” Kai asked as well, sitting up. He started pressing buttons on his phone feverishly.
“Yes, Nashville,” Ezra answered, glancing at us like we were idiots, you know, ’cause we were. “Why do I feel like I just keep repeating things over and over around you two?”
You can repeat that car bit again if you want, I thought too quickly. No! No. Bad Jupiter. Bad Jupiter. I tried to turn my thoughts toward more innocent diversions, but it was really hard to when Ezra Brandon’s hands, the very hands that lifted me not a mere ten minutes before, were resting so charmingly across his steering wheel. I took a deep sigh.
Then I sat up with a jerk. “Oh shit!”
Ezra fishtailed a little. “What?”
My face flushed warm again. “Uh, I just, uh, forgot to phone my sister last night.”
“Damn it, Jupiter!” Ezra panted. He situated himself in his seat once more, pulling at his seatbelt.
Get in the Car, Jupiter Page 8
