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“I fail to see the joke.” I sit back in the booth and fold my arms over my chest. I doubt it looks as serious and intimidating as I’d like it to be, but I’mtrying.
“You think we’re stupid, Ari? Do you think we had you confused for any of that? When Isaac asked for our help, we did it just for the killing. Just because we were bored in San Diego and wanted something to do, frankly, it doesn’t take much for Ashe to agree to murder.”
“That’s reassuring,” I lie, my voice full of sarcasm to prove my point.
“It shouldn’t be,” Ezra disagrees. “I’m pretty easy too. Ilikehurting people.” There’s not one ounce of shame or guilt in the words, and it unsettles me how easily he can say something like that. It’s terrifying if I think about it too hard. So I try to push it to the side, not wanting it in my brain any longer than it has to be.
“But then you said some shit about stabbing Ashe, and he waspossessed. He found out from Isaac you lived here, and they both started following you–”
“They were following me?” I interrupt, unable to help myself. “But I never saw anyone. Only…” I trail off, blinking, and remember Cyril’s grinning face in the plaza. “Only yourfearlessPeter Pan,” I grumble finally.
The words catch Ezra off guard. “Our fearlesswhat?” he asks as if he’s missed something.
“Peter Pan,” I reply slowly. “You’re the Lost Boys, right? And he’s obviously the one in charge, so he’s your Peter Pan.”
“He’s…” Ezra trails off, looking thoughtful. He reaches up to swipe a hand through his thick hair again, and I hate how my gaze lingers on it, wondering what it would be like to run my fingers through it too. “He kind of is our Peter Pan, actually,” Ezra agrees after a moment. “It’s not a bad analogy when I think about it.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You’re pretty oblivious. We’ve been following you forweeks. Literallyweeks. On and off. Months, if you count just Isaac doing it. And you just never noticed.” He gives me a look of pity and disappointment. “We’ll have to work on that. You can’t be Lost Boy adjacent and not be able to tell when you’re being followed formonths.”
“I’m onlyadjacentuntil you get bored of me, or I reallydoget this covered up,” I mutter, reaching up to stroke my fingers over the bandaged tattoo on the back of my neck.
“You really don’t want to do that.” He doesn’t sound worried or mad. He just sounds…conversational. “Cyril was right, you know. No one in the city will cover that. Most of themknowus, and we’d find out about it if you even asked.”
“Good thing I can still leave this city and go to other places then, huh?” I reply sweetly. “Guess I should get a move on before all the borders close down and my travel capabilities are revoked.”
The waitress returns with pancakes, waffles, and the side of bacon that she sets at Ezra’s elbow. He beams up at her, and she stares back, not knowing what to do with herself.
I get that. He has that effect on people, and I’ve only really known him for less than a day.
“I’ll be back in a while to check on you,” she says, unsure in that face of serenity and pleasantness.
“You can leave the city whenever you want,” Ezra agrees. “But there’s a lot of steps between leaving the city and getting that covered.Andwhen you come back, Arlo will just tattoo it somewhere else, so…” He trails off, then blinks like he’s considered something important. “Oh–you don’t meanleave-leave, do you? I hope you don’t. That feels like an overreaction to the situation.”
“What if I do?” I snap, though the idea hasn’t occurred to me before this. “Are you going todrag me backagainst my will?”
“Hmm.” He picks up a piece of bacon and examines it, then points it at me like a ruler. “I don’t know, to be honest. It would depend on what the others think. Or what Cyril says. I’d say you’d have Isaac on your tail before you were gone a day. So let’s just…not?” he offers as if it’s the simplest solution. “Literallynot that big of a deal, and it’s starting to feel like you’re just trying to be overdramatic.”
“I’moverdramatic?”
“Yeah, so eat your pancakes.”
I look between him and my food and fight the urge to throw it at him. Something in his face warns me off of it, as if he does know what’s going through my mind, Ezra doesn’t say it. He just continues to work through his side of bacon; eyes fixed on mine with a warning in them that’s undeniable.
“Whatever,” I say finally and pick up my fork in a move that feels a little too much like I’m conceding defeat here.
I’m not.
“So there’s no real reason you want anything to do with me, other than Isaac,” I go on, hating myself for sounding so casual about the whole thing.
“And Ashe,” Ezra reminds me. “He’s just better at being discreet about it. But hey, don’t sell yourself short. Arlo wasswooningfor you yesterday. And I don’t hate you or anything,like I said.”
My hand stills, fork halfway to my mouth. “That’s weird of you,” I tell him. “You’re very uh, invested for someone who feels so ambiguous toward my existence.”
“I’minterested,” he argues. “Not invested. And I was the only one with a free morning to make sure you didn’t stab yourself in your sleep and to take you to breakfast.”
“Wow, look at you doing community service,” I mumble and stuff my mouth full of pancakes. “Gold star.”
