Page 12 of Bless My Body

“Jesus. Why are you so obsessed with Celine?” Her eyes widen as I raise my voice. I must have

struck a nerve somewhere. “And it’s none of your business who I decide to fuck, ok? Stop asking.”

The moment I look at her face, I know I shouldn’t have said that. I hardly ever lose my temper, and

I learned a lot about keeping it under control from living with Ozzy throughout college. I mean, the

guy had to physically fight people every few weeks just to keep himself in check. My anger has

definitely never been as bad as his, but sometimes I can’t stop myself when it does hit.

Sometimes Sadie gets under my skin, but I shouldn’t have raised my voice at her. Not because she

looks upset, but because she looks turned on. I watch as her pupils dilate and she squares her

shoulders. She looks like she’s going into battle until a smirk forms on her lips.

“Oh, there he is. Does bad boy Ezra want to come out and play?”

“Um, no.” I hate when she calls me that. I literally smacked her ass once while we were having

sex, and she acted like it was the dirtiest thing ever. If she only knew what I could really do. “I have

to finish packing and get on the road.”

“You’re driving up tonight?” She looks surprised. The rehearsal is tomorrow. I feel like the day

before is an acceptable time to arrive.

“Yeah, they’re my friends, Sadie. I do actually want to hang out with them.” She rolls her eyes.

“Fine. Have a safe trip.” She waves me off as she saunters into her room.

I retreat to mine and find my half-packed suitcase open on my bed. I throw my dress shoes, some

slacks, a few shirts, and my toiletries into the bag and zip up the garment bag with my suit in it.

I grab my bags and head for the door. I make sure to lock my room before I leave too. I’m sure

Sadie will be in there snooping around if I don’t. When she’s not trying to jump on my dick, she’s

actually a really cool chick. Just a little psycho. Nothing I can’t handle.

I take my stuff down to my Toyota Camry that, yes, my parents bought for me. But hey, at least I got

them to agree on something that doesn’t shout “Hey, this kid has money” every time I turn a corner.

Yes, we have money. Yes, I’m proud of the family I’m from.

But that doesn’t mean I have to flaunt it around.

My worst nightmare is someone being friends with me or, worse, being in a relationship with me

just because my family has money. My parents’ money is not my money.

I think I’d rather be alone forever than have that.

Chapter 3