I reach into my pocket and hand him my phone so he can enter his contact details, and he does the same for me.
“Don’t be mad,” he says with a grin, “But I’m adding something to my name that I know will make you smile, or maybe want to hit me. But hopefully smile.”
When he hands my phone back, I shove it in my pocket without looking to see what he added. Then I start to remove his coat.
Ezra shakes his head. “Keep it. Now that you’re my girlfriend.”
“No, just take it now. We don’t have to pretend when it’s just the two of us.”
But he’s already backing away from me with a mischievous grin on his face. His teeth flash white in the dark, the tiny studs in his ears catching the porch light. “You can give it to me at school. Goodnight, Rue. And by the way, I really like your new haircut.”
He…noticed the haircut?An unfamiliar emotion swarms my insides that can only be rage. How dare he act like he cares about me? How dare he compliment the haircut no one else noticed after pretending I don’t exist the past four years.
I take off the jacket and throw it at him, but it lands two feet away from me.Ugh!
Ezra doesn’t pick it up. He just chuckles before getting in his car and driving away.
Chapter 5
Ezra
I watch her go inside through my rear-view mirror before I fully drive away. And the part I don’t miss? Her picking up my jacket and taking it with her. There must be a tiny part of her that doesn’t hate me as much as she’s letting on. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.
I let my stupid hopes overtake me as I drive home. Hopes in which I, Ezra Davis, somehow manage to earn her friendship back. I thought I could make myself forget her. But after tonight, I realize how dumb that is. The few words she spoke to me sparked more life in me than I’ve felt in years. And sure, I have friends. Plenty of them. But no one has ever gotten me like her, and it makes me sad how accustomed I’ve gotten to the feeling of having a bunch of surface-level companions. None of the guys on the team wants to hear about anything but basketball, parties, and girls unless it somehow turns into a joke. Rue never did that. She was the only person who listened, like the things I loved actually mattered.
I miss how she used to tell me exactly how she felt. Tonight was a great reminder of how that felt, even though all she revealed is just how much she hates me now. At least it was real.
I only have two years left at Fallbrook, and if I don’t make this right now, I might lose my chance at getting back the only true friendship I ever had.
When I get home, the house is quiet. Olivia and my parents must be asleep, so I tiptoe upstairs to sneak to my room.
The kitchen light flicks on.
I’m left frozen, mid-tiptoe, as Mom stares at me from behind the kitchen island. She’s holding Chai Guy and petting his soft, tea-colored fur with a smile.
My shoulders relax. “I thought you were Olivia.”
She laughs, warm and bubbly. “The fact that you’re more afraid of your sister than me is insulting.”
“Sorry.” I laugh, too, rubbing my forehead.
“I was just getting Chai some water. Where have you been?”
“Giving Tucker a ride to a party, and then another friend home from the same party.” I internally wince at my use of the word “friend” for Rue. And knowing Mom, she’ll question it because she knows everyone I hang with. Usually I’m grateful to be close with both my parents. Tonight, not so much.
Mom frowns. “Another friend? Who?”
“Um, Rue Sullivan.”
Her frown deepens. “Rue Sullivan? Wow. How is she? I haven’t heard you talk about her in forever.”
“She’s…she’s great, Ma. But I’m tired. Could we talk about this tomorrow?”
She searches my face. “Okay, baby. Goodnight.”
Without another word, I head upstairs to my room and shut the door. I take a deep breath and plop onto my firm mattress. The thick, navy blue comforter is unmade and welcoming, so I undress and toss my clothes to the floor before slipping under.
Taking out my phone, I navigate away from the welcome page of the tech university I’m dying to attend after high school. When I think about getting that scholarship, I imagine makingmore than just myself proud, but my parents, too. Dad is always telling me to man up, usually meaning to stop relying on his favors and handouts. So, I know he’ll be proud if I get this.
