Felix Ever After(65)

He still won’t speak. His eyes flicker, looking at my own, waiting for an answer.

I lean in this time, and he puts a hand to my face, the other to the back of my neck, and I push my mouth against his, so hard my tooth grazes against his bottom lip. He pulls back an inch. “Softer,” he murmurs. I nod, mumbling an apology, pulling him back to me again. All I can feel are his lips, his hands under my shirt, on my legs, up and down my back. Somehow, I end up on his lap, legs on either side of him, and I can feel him, feel his hard-on, which both scares the shit out of me and sends a thrill through me as I press against him, tugging at his shirt— He pulls back. I try to follow his mouth with my own, but he pulls back again.

“You okay?” I say, breathless.

Ezra nods. He can’t look at me. “Yeah. Yeah, I just—”

He shifts uncomfortably. I get off his lap, legs crossed on the couch. Embarrassment races through me. “I—sorry, I got too—”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, don’t be sorry. God, don’t be sorry. It’s just—I was getting a little too excited—”

If I was embarrassed before, that’s nothing in comparison to now. My eyes automatically glance back down to Ezra’s lap, where I was just seconds ago, and where a bulge still very obviously presses up against his jeans. He’s embarrassed, too—I can tell by the way he won’t look at me as he tries to tug his shirt down.

“I’ll be right back.” He stands up, leaving the living room. The bathroom door clicks shut. Water starts to run.

I press my face into my hands.

Oh my fucking God.

I can already tell how awkward it’d be if I stayed here tonight—I mean, I can’t even look Ezra in the eye—so without saying a word, I’m out the door. It shuts behind me, and I race down the steps and out the glass front door of the apartment building—but I stop before I leave the stoop. I sit down where I’ve sat so many times before, resting my head against the railing, the insanity of whatever the hell just happened thrumming through me.

I’m not surprised when the door opens and shuts behind me again. Ezra sits down beside me.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low.

“I have no idea.”

“That was a little weird, right?”

“Totally fucking weird.”

He laughs for a second, hiding his face in his arms, folded on top of his knees. He glances at me. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time, though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Is that weird, too?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe a little?” It’s hard to look at him. “We’re best friends.”

He doesn’t say anything. He sits up straight again, stretching his knees out, looking at the sky, a sliver of the moon highlighting strings of clouds. “I have something to tell you.”

My heart sinks. I already know what he’s going to say.

“Don’t,” I say. His head turns to me. “Just—don’t.”

I see a flicker of hurt on his face as he looks down to the ground again. “Why not?”

“We’re friends,” I tell him. “I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“What do you mean?”

“What if we break up, the way Declan broke up with you? What if we get pissed at each other and stop talking? I don’t want to ruin this. We’ve got a pretty fucking amazing friendship, Ez.”

“I know that,” he says, so quietly I can barely hear him. “I can’t help having feelings for you.”

“Why would you have feelings for me?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so pissed—why I almost feel betrayed by him, like he’s been lying to me about our relationship all along. Underneath that anger is fear. Ezra and I—we’d make so much sense. We support each other, love each other, have always been there for one another. It’d make so much sense, if we fell in love and started going out, if we stayed together through college and then got married and had a cute story about how we were high school sweethearts. It’s so perfect that the fear of it all ending, of him realizing that he doesn’t love me anymore, of him leaving me the same way my mother left, fills the hollow in my chest.

His eyebrows are tight together. “It’s almost like you don’t want me to love you.”

“I don’t,” I tell him.

He takes in a sharp breath and stands up so fast I barely register that he’s opening the front door— “Ezra,” I call after him.

He stops and turns back around to me. “You’re always talking about how you want to be in love. How you think it’s impossible for anyone to love you. Here I am. Telling you I fucking love you.” He raises his hands up, lets them fall to his sides again as he lets out a breath. “I love you, Felix. But—what, am I the only person in the world you don’t want loving you?”

Someone yells out of a window above us. “Shut the fuck up!”

Ezra rubs an eye, his cheek. “Fuck it. You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He’s back inside, door snapping shut behind him.





Nineteen


EZRA WON’T RETURN MY TEXTS.

He won’t pick up the phone.