Felix Ever After(89)

I could stay like this for hours, for days, just doing nothing but enjoying the time that I get to have with two really freaking amazing human beings. But then I see the time on my phone.

“Shit, Ez, we’re late.” My dad’s expecting us for dinner tonight. Ezra’s started to look forward to coming over to hang out with me and my dad and has even stayed with us some nights—sleeping on the couch, of course; even though I sleep over at Ezra’s all of the time, my dad doesn’t even let him look at my bedroom.

We hug Leah goodbye, grabbing trash to toss on our way out of the park, and hurry down the sidewalk, running for a train just as it pulls up to the station. Ezra and I sit down with heavy sighs on the orange seats, sweaty and hot, but I can tell that he’s happy to be here with me, just as happy as I am to be with him. I glance at the window, then do a double take. R + J = 4EVA.

What’re the chances that this is the exact same train, and that we’ve taken the exact same seats? I think it’s more likely that R and J have written graffiti on as many trains as they could. But while I would’ve rolled my eyes once upon a time, shoving down the jealousy, I smile a little now.

“How likely do you think it is that R and J are still in love, on an anniversary somewhere like Fiji or Bermuda?”

When I nod at the graffiti, Ezra grins. “I’m pretty sure R and J are two government spies and on the run and living secret lives in Cuba.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah,” he says with a firm nod. “But it’s not fair they get to write this everywhere. They’re not the only ones who’re in love.”

I hesitate. This is stupid, I know it is—but, suddenly, I understand where R and J were coming from, publicly declaring their love with a black Sharpie. I reach into my backpack and grab one of the pens I use to sketch, and I make bubble letters on the wall before filling them in.

F + E = 4EVA

Ezra smirks at me, then kisses the corner of my mouth. “That’s so fucking corny.”

“I know.”

“I love it.”

“Me too.”

He leans back in his seat. “You know, I was messing around online last night, and I ended up down a rabbit hole, looking up a bunch of random shit . . . and I remember you told me that Felix means ‘lucky’ in Latin—but apparently, it also means ‘happy.’”

“Wait—what?”

“Yeah. There was a site that said Felix means both ‘lucky’ and ‘happy.’” He shrugs. “Not huge news, I guess. I just thought it was cool.”

For years I’d thought Felix had only meant ‘lucky,’ so now there’s a whole other definition to my name to wrap my brain around . . . but I can’t say that I mind it. These days, I’m pretty freaking happy, too. I glance at Ezra, and the corner of his lips twitches into a smile, before he leans forward and kisses me. He takes my hand, fingers brushing together, like he never wants to let go, and I don’t want him to, either.