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"I don't know." We're sitting up, facing each other. I cup his face with my hands. I can't resist leaning in and brushing my lips over his, even though he doesn't look like he feels great. I'm surprised when he kisses me deeper, wraps an arm around me. He almost gets in my lap, kissing me the desperate Ezra way until we have to break apart to breathe. Afterward, we end up lying together, wrapped up in each other. Looking into each other's eyes.
There's something wrong. He looks so fucking bleak.
"Tell me what's the matter, angel."
I trace my fingertips over his forehead, my stomach flipping when tears well in his eyes.
"Just tired," he rasps.
He tucks his head down against my chest again, and I feel grateful that I get to hold him. That I can do something small to ease his pain—even if I don't know what’s the matter. I rub his back and shoulders, tickling gently, and I feel him relax some. When he's been still for a long time, I kiss his forehead, nudging his face away from my chest.
He gives me a tiny smile.
“Hold,” I whisper.
I grab a pen from my nightstand and write on his chest, just over his left pec: angel. I draw a small infinity symbol beside it.
He opens his eyes more fully, kisses my lips. "Let's go with them,” he says. “If we don't get up, I'll never be able to let you go."
The lake ends up being just what he needs. I'm surprised and also not to find that Ezra is a natural skier—even in a bulky wetsuit. He's so good, Bren introduces him to the wakeboard, and he tears the water up.
He looks happy when he climbs back into the boat. His whole face is glowing. Then he sees me, and I can't help noticing the gut-punched look on his face. Dammit, maybe he’s been somber due to something with me? I'm up next, and my fears are assuaged when he gets up on his knees in his seat, beaming back at me like a proud dad as I ski.
He seems more normal when I get back into the boat. Marcel has a go, and Ez and I sit close enough so our knees brush a few times. As Bren steers the boat under the trestle bridge, Ezra's fingers find mine and squeeze. It's how I know that everything's still all right.
In the car on the drive back home from the marina, he smiles every time his eyes catch mine. He's driving with both hands for a while, but as we near the house, his right hand envelops mine. After he parks, he looks at me and whispers, "Miller?"
I nod, and I see him swallow.
"I love you." He kisses my jaw and then traces the tip of his tongue over my cheek, a gentle tickling in what I'm pretty sure is an infinity symbol. He tugs his shirt down, nodding at his chest, which is now bare of my drawings. "Washed off in the lake,” he tells me.
"That's okay. I'll draw it back after you shower."
Mom and Carl went antiquing, so after we shower, we end up on my bed doing bad things to each other. I let him know I want to feel him in me again, but he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, we do sixty-nine the way we do, both lying on our sides. Afterward, we go into his room to watch a movie.
Ez lays his head in my lap and wraps his arms around my waist, as if he’s holding on for dear life. It makes me feel secure. Relaxed. I noticed something on his nightstand recently—a full-ride offer from Stanford. Which scares me. Despite what I say about how he should pick any college, I'm not sure how I would follow him to California. But I know I’ll find a way if that’s his choice school.
We end up falling asleep at the end of The Hitman’s Bodyguard. I shake him awake to see if he wants to move to my bed, and he does. We brush our teeth, and when we're in my bedroom, he seems awake.
I start us fucking around, and we end up doing the tandem thing where we jerk off rubbing our dicks together. It takes him a long time to come, but when he does, he comes hard and seems wasted after.
After we clean up, I turn the strobe light on and we tuck in.
"Mills?" he murmurs.
"Yeah, angel?"
"You didn't draw it again."
I smile. "Oh yeah. Lemme fix that."
I point the strobe light at him and scrawl the word “angel” over his pec, and then draw a little infinity sign. I seal it with a kiss.
"Forever?" he rasps.
"Oh yeah."
"Will you be in the back?" he asks.
"Yeah, of course." Ezra’s as big as me now, muscle-wise, but I'm still meatier and wider-framed, although he's taller. I fucking love how I can sort of wrap him up and fit myself behind him when I spoon him.
