Your sneak peek of A Rival’s Kiss is here!
Ezra
“Not feeling a little left out, Ez?”
I leaned farther out on the railing, trying to see the tail end of the play downfield. I breathed in the stadium smells. When I was on the sidelines, the feel was different. Up here it was colder without the heat cannons and tightly packed in bodies ready to charge onto the field.
But in a football stadium or on the sidelines was the closest thing I’d had to a home. The closest thing I’d ever have to something that hadn’t abandoned me.
“Ezra, we have some extra fries. Want some?”
My roommates sat in the seats beside me, devouring overpriced concession food and enjoying the game as they should be. The crowd noise covered the growling of my stomach. I’d eat when we got back to the hotel room.
“No.” My hands were shoved into my pockets and I stood at the railing to the student section, happy at the very least that everyone was standing, so no one would give me shit for blocking their view.
Hollis waved a buffalo wing in front of my face. “Come on, Ezra. One bite. Just one bite.” He moved the wing closer.
I glanced over at him and locked my jaw.
His bright eyes glittered with laughter.
I locked my gaze back onto the field. It wasn’t only because I didn’t want to eat their food, but also because of how none of them could fathom how I made it through an entire game without eating. I’d gone a hell of a lot longer than that without eating. Physically feeling hungry didn’t mean I had to eat, waiting it out when you knew food was waiting for you was a lot easier than wondering where your next meal would come from.
“We’ve lost him guys. We’re going to have to get a hand truck and roll him out of here.”
The corner of my mouth twitched, but I smothered the smile.
Behind us, the crowd cheered and jeered the refs’ calls depending on whether they were in our favor or not. Being players, we could spot the difference between the good and bad calls, but we weren’t out on the field tonight.
In a couple of years, I had no doubt, but right now, we were spectators like everyone else. The frosty tips of my ears rubbed against my hat. It was too damn cold out here. I still wasn’t used to these cold ass winters where my jeans felt like they’d been dunked in ice water before I put them on after a few minutes outside.
It wasn’t often we were watching games instead of on the field bleeding, sweating, and powering through the pain with every ounce of ourselves for a win. STFU Night in Pittsburgh involved a lot of events around the city, but the game was the one most people came for. The ninety-minute drive was treated like a trek where people loaded up for it like we were traveling across the desert for a new location to drink in, like we didn’t have plenty of those on campus.
We had prime seats, I’d have preferred to be up higher to read the lines of defense easier, but the guys loved to be up close. So I worked with it and zeroed in on the defensive line. Every shift of their cleats in the grass, every quick head move. I absorbed every minute detail down to their breathing. Clouds of breath gathered in front of their face masks.
From the sidelines, I tried to filter out the crowd noise and let the coaching staff chatter wash over me. Tried to pick out anything that might be important, not just plays or techniques, but how they spoke to each other. How the coaches spoke. Listening was half the battle, but understanding took a hell of a lot more work.
As the quarters progressed, the mood of the crowd was shifting from pent-up excitement to drunken shouting at the field. Another reason I hated being this close to the field was my back was to everyone above me.
The switch flipped, and the shouts at the refs cranked to yelling behind me. Hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I checked over my shoulder as the first punch was thrown. A few rows back, still far enough from us. Insanely expensive beers were flung into the air, splattering at least thirty people. Voices joined the pissed off chorus.
Concrete and plastic seats didn’t mix well with drunken idiots. The last thing any of us needed was for an injury to take one of us out for a couple games or the rest of the season. A melee circle widened with more angry drunk people swept into the booze fueled hurricane washing over the stands.
At the center of it, innocent bystanders were trying to escape. One girl in an emerald coat in the sea of orange and gold caught my eye. She kept trying to shield her friend from what was coming from behind them. They were right on the outskirts, about to be sucked into the vortex. An elbow grazed the top of her hat.
My heart jolted. If she’d been a couple inches taller, that would’ve been an elbow to the temple.
I turned toward the aisle and barely made it a step before the green coat girl wasn’t in the same spot anymore, but pitched into the air, flipping over the two rows in front of her and hurtling toward the hard concrete. I launched forward.
My fingers grazed the fabric of her coat. The soft, slightly damp cold cloth was in my grasp. Maneuvering in the air, I rigged her close against my chest and twisted my body. Shadows from the people around us enveloped us. My back slammed against the ground, lighting up along my spine.
I shielded her head and caught her face with my hand half an inch from the edge of a hard plastic seat.
The swell of the crowd above us was like an out-of-control beast.
Her shocked breath breezed across my clammy skin. She stared at me with wide-eyed shock, slowly processing that she wasn’t going to shatter a few teeth on the floor. Her lips parted in a perfect circle.
Even wedged in between rows on the dirty floor with my legs still trapped over the backs of the seats in the row ahead, I couldn’t help but stare. The light brown eyes, the fuzzy STFU hat now crooked on her head, the dark brown hair tickling my neck with each breath.
My heart drummed in my ears like the overhead speaker system.
A shadow crossed overhead, and she was slammed against me, chest to chest too hard. A sound of shock and helplessness burst from those perfect lips.
Another body was piled on top of us. We needed to get up from here before we got crushed.
The person was pulled off us less than a breath later.
“We need to get up. Can you move?”
Her eyes locked with mine and she nodded, snapping out of the shock. She licked her lips. “I think so.”
She squirmed down my body.
I focused on the dirty, hard concrete digging into my back, not the beautiful woman on top of me.
Arms shot into the row aisle and hefted her off me. I kept myself from grabbing for her when I spotted Hollis and another of my roommates, Cole steadying her.
The other guys grabbed my arms and helped lift me.
I snatched up my hat and shoved it on while I rushed to her and held her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and adjusted her hat. “Thanks for breaking my fall.” Her face dropped, skin paling, and she kept her hand against her forehead. “My family’s going to freak if they find out about this,” she mumbled, lips twisted, but not in pain.
A thin red line grew between her fingers and a drop of blood trickled down the back of her hand.
My stomach lurched. “You’re hurt.” I spun around and grabbed a stack of napkins on the seat below Cole’s fries and wadded the recycled fiber paper up, pressing them to her as gently as I could while still applying pressure. “Let’s get you to First Aid.” Blood stained her face from the few seconds of free flowing. Head wounds always bled the worst.
Without thinking, I grabbed her around the waist, almost lifting her off her feet, and took the steps two at a time with strides like I was out on the field.
When we had made it to the top of the section stairs, security finally showed up. They rushed straight past us. Brawling hadn’t stopped, which was even more reason to get her out of here. At least I kept my fist throwing confined to the field—mostly.
Checking the signs on the concourse, I half walked, half carried her toward the first aid station.
I shoved us through the glass doors. “She’s hurt. She’s bleeding.”
“Grab a seat behind the curtain and we’ll take a look at it.” The guy snapping on a pair of gloves pointed us toward the overly padded chair in the corner. There were others in triage situations in the room, but no one actively bleeding like . . . I didn’t even know her name.
Another person banged into the first aid station with blood pouring out of their mouth. Spoke too soon.
Emerald Girl sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. “We’ll wait over there.”
With my hand on her elbow, I guided her to the seat.
She peeked up at me and flashed a smile. “Thanks for your help.” Those eyes were flooded with lightness and laughter. I locked my knees to keep from swaying. She’d just been knocked to the ground after a brawl broke out, but still smiled at me like I’d showed up at her door with a bouquet of flowers.
“Ezra.” I cleared my clenched throat. “My name’s Ezra.”
“Nice to meet you, Ezra. I’m Willa.” She extended the hand she wasn’t using to stop the blood.
My fingertips brushed the inside of her wrist. So soft. Her palm was like butter against mine. Mine probably felt like gravel against hers.
She made a face and felt around her coat, pulling a phone out of her pocket. Her nose scrunched up, and she tapped out a one-handed message, balancing the phone on her thigh.
“Do you see a girl out there?”
I leaned back, peering from behind the curtain. The EMT was tugging off his gloves after getting the mouth bleeder onto a gurney with other paramedics carting him out. “No one else new has shown up.”
Her brows furrowed with a wince. “My friend said she’s in the first aid station looking for me.”
“They’ve got two on each level. She’s probably at the other one.”
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head, laughing. “Let me tell her.”
The EMT came over and peeled the stack of napkins off Willa’s forehead.
Pressure had stemmed the free-flowing blood, but the cut wasn’t pretty. I was torn between staying here to make sure she was okay and going back to find out who’d knocked into her in the first place and teaching them not to do stupid shit like that ever again. Ultimately, making sure Willa wasn’t hurt too badly won out.
He got to work cleaning her up and the small wound had mostly stopped bleeding.
She winced and scrunched her face as he worked, but didn’t say anything, not even when he’d used the alcohol pads.
“Do you want me to go get your friend?”
“No, I told her I’m good, and that I was being looked after by a hot football player.”
I stalled, staring down at her. Football player certainly fit me, but hot? Hot wasn’t used to describe me. Grumpy. Intense. Avoid at all costs. But not hot. Didn’t mean I didn’t every so often have a girl try to get close. Usually for my prospective future. “Do you come to a lot of the STFU games?”
She looked up at me, her head movements restricted by the medical professional taking care of her. “No.” Maintaining her lighter than air bubble, she leaned a little closer, drawing a grumble from the EMT, but her eyes sparkled like we were about to share soul shattering secrets. “I don’t go to STFU,” she whispered.
“Then how did you know I was a football player.” Walking around campus unrecognized wasn’t easy. Most guys welcomed it. It wasn’t my deal. It wasn’t why I got into the game. It was also why I wore my hat, although now that was more of a calling card than my face.
Her eyes raked up and down my body with a smirk. “I know the type. Defensive end or defensive tackle?”
“Tackle.”
Her satisfied smile widened. “I knew it.”
Using butterfly bandages, the EMT closed it up and covered it in an oversized Band-Aid. “Keep it dry and if you’re feeling dizzy or disoriented, head to the doctor or hospital because you might have a concussion.”
“I know the concussion protocol.”
How’d she know it? She didn’t look like she could withstand the kinds of knocks we got on the field.
With one hand out like she was testing the air, she stood. I held on to her hand. The warm, deep throb on the connection thawed me out all over again. “Dizzy?”
She whipped her head to the side and stared at me, stopping for a moment like she was trying to figure out if she was feeling dizzy. Her lips pursed for a second before the smile was back. It was infectiously free and full. “Good as new.”
“Not until the bandage comes off. You’re not in any pain?”
“A little, but that’s to be expected. I was launched into the air, rolled down a couple rows of hard plastic chairs and the landed on top of a boulder.”
“Boulder?”
She laughed like she’d never had a sad day in her life. Her fingers wrapped around my bicep and leaned close to my ear. “You’re the boulder, Ezra,” she whispered in a way that meant everyone in the room heard her.
I tipped my chin back with understanding and winced. A throb behind my ear pulsed. I rubbed it, brushing the edge of my hat, and pulled my fingers away.
“You’re hurt!” She yelped and grabbed my hand by the wrist. The heat of her touch spread through my already thawed hands and up my arm. “He’s hurt.”
The bright red blood coated the tips of my fingers. Huh, how’d I miss that?
She slid my hat off and a small trickle ran down the side of my neck. “Excuse me, Mr. EMT, you need to come look at him.” Her panicked voice worried me more than my minor injury.
The sunshine breeziness of her was replaced with panic and worry. She didn’t let go as she scooted around the side of me. A tiny bend of my ear with her fingers and I sucked in a sharp breath.
“It’s not—”
Using way more strength than she looked like she had, she tucked my arm under hers, bringing our bodies even closer with me moving in lockstep with her.
She tugged me forward and sat my ass down in the procedure chair.
“It’s not that bad.”
“So it’ll only take a couple minutes to take care of. Sit still and don’t make me sit on you.” Her hand didn’t leave mine. She cupped it like the injury was to my hand, not my head.
A flash of her on my lap rammed its way inside my head. Her body pressed down, denim against denim. A look over her shoulder at me or even worse, her facing me with legs on either side of mine.
I shifted in my seat so my semi wasn’t noticeable. Distraction wasn’t too hard to come by, not when the stinging intensified with the cleaning of the wound, but most of all with the way Willa’s hand moved soothingly along my arm. I couldn’t even tell if she realized she was doing it. Little noises of reassurance like you’d give a kid who skinned their knee on the playground. Not the kind I’d gotten, but the ones all the other kids seemed to.
Her brows were furrowed with concern and she asked the EMT way more questions about my cut than she had about the slice to her forehead.
“You’re sure he doesn’t need stitches? He’s got a game coming up and we don’t want him to miss it.”
“How you know?”
“It’s football season. Will he be okay? Should he go to the hospital?” Her concern for me was leaps and bounds above what it had been for herself. She’d laughed off her cut like it was nothing, but was ready to call in a medivac for me.
I’d never had someone so concerned for me before.
“I’m not his doctor or coach, but he should be fine.” The EMT pulled off the gloves. “Same drill as I told her. If you’re feeling off, go see your doctor.” With that, he was off with a weary gait to take care of the next triage situation that had stumbled in through the doors.
The tape tugged at my skin, but at least I hadn’t had to pay for getting it taken care of.
Willa slipped her coat back on. I brushed my fingers over the blood spots dotting the green fabric just under the collar and on her STFU scarf. “There’s blood on it.”
She craned her neck to take a look. “It could be worse. Maybe I’ll put a big brooch there or boutonnière.”
“That won’t draw any extra attention.”
Her huff of laughter made the lingering throb behind my ear evaporate. “There’s some on your hat too.” She brushed her fingers along the base of the hat and held it out to me.
I’d forgot I wasn’t wearing it while we’d been talking. Tugging it back on, I was shielded with the shadows from the overhead lights. “Do you want me to take you back to your friend?”
“No.” Her dimples deepened. “But I wouldn’t mind if you took me out.”
Willa
The words leaped out of my mouth without a second thought. Wasn’t that what Walsh was always droning on about? Me being too impulsive, which was laughable. More than half my life, I felt like I’d been tethered and boxed in for my protection.
“Sorry, that was a jerk thing to say.” I tried to extract my hand from his grasp. “You’re here with your friends and then I’m like, hey guy I’ve never met before, leave your friends behind after being super nice already by bringing me here and take me out.”
He had his hat back on now, so I could barely see his eyes.
At least I didn’t have to be completely humiliated. “If you’ll just give me my hand back . . .” I tried to shake his grip loose.
“I want to take you out.”
Flutters filled my stomach, but I squashed them and ducked to get a better look at his eyes. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, I know the perfect place.” His lips lifted, which felt like a full-on grin for him.
My breath quickened and heat rose from my neck. “Then let’s go.”
He held his arm out and I slid mine under, linking it with his.
The short trip across the parking lot led us to the gray building with red trim and big block letters across the front. “Carnegie Science Center.”
“Not exactly what I had in mind.” I glanced over at him.
A slightest hint of a smile stretched his lips. “Our tickets get us in for free.” He waved his toward the front door.
An hour later, I sat on the floor reassembling my race car with a few modifications. “You’re not going to beat me this time.”
“That’s what you’ve said the last four races.” He leaned against the wall with his car in one hand. Show off hadn’t changed the design since we started.
I scowled and got back to work. Snapping the final piece into place, I checked over my car and spun the wheels a few times to make sure there were no obstructions. “Done. Let’s go, Ezra.”
After waiting in line for the rest of the kids under eight to have their turns, it was ours.
I set mine on the track and Ezra did the same.
His stomach rumbled. It wasn’t the first time, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about getting food.
“Why don’t you count this time?” Amusement permeated every word.
“You’re not taking me down. I don’t need a pity countdown.” I put on my game face. “Pedal to the metal.”
A genuine laugh burst from him, shaking his whole body. “Three, two, one. Go!”
I released my car, and it raced down the track, taking the curves like a pro, but still behind Ezra’s. Running alongside the track, I cheered it on like there was a tiny driver inside who could hear me.
Only a nose behind, the car took the final curve. The cars sprinted for the finish line powered only by gravity and inertia. A foot from the end, Ezra’s car wobbled, grinding along the side of the track.
That was all it took to overcome the gap and overtake his car. Mine crossed the finish line first, crossing the checkered line.
I jumped in the air, spinning and cheering. Picking up my car, I kissed the side of it and cuddled it against my cheek while singing “We are the Champions.”
Ezra sauntered over with the look of amusement not fully banished yet. “You have a terrible singing voice.”
“Oh, I know.” Belting out another verse, I used my car as a microphone, complete with pop star dramatics and a hair flip.
The place wasn’t busy, but we drew more than a couple looks. It wasn’t too often a couple twenty-year-olds were hanging out in Bricksburgh as the Lego play area had been dubbed.
Finished with the song and a little out of breath from trying to hold the notes, I stared at Ezra, feeling flushed and overly giddy. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen.
“Ma’am. We need you to put that in the Yuck Bucket.” A museum staff member pointed to the sign stating any pieces that touched a patron’s mouth should be deposited inside the bucket beside me to be cleaned.
I stared down at my little car that could before I slowly lowered it into the plastic brick funeral pyre. “You deserved better, Mr. Vroom.” I brushed away a fake tear and sniffled.
“He’s going out in a blaze of glory.” Ezra patted my back.
“A bright and brilliant flame out before it’s time.” Turning to him with a grin, I grabbed his hand. “Let’s see what else they have.”
“I’ll catch up, I need to put this back in the building area.” He raised his own car and looked down at our linked hands.
I dropped it and hoped the flames on my cheeks didn’t match the blocks. “Why aren’t you dumping yours in there?”
“I wasn’t making out with my car.” His stomach gurgled again. Once we found a concession stand, we should stop. Maybe he hadn’t eaten at the game. Although raising his hand in the air probably would’ve scored him at least some popcorn and maybe a couple handfuls of beer and soda.
I scrunched my nose at him and walked around the rest of the museum.
Ezra found me and we wandered to the exhibit showcasing different aspects of how the body moves. I placed my hands on the metal handprints to track my heartbeat and looked up at Ezra staring down at me. They twirled with a maelstrom of emotions, sweet, raw, overwhelming. The monitor skipped up, and I jerked my hands back, turning to a gross clogged artery model.
His shadow fell over me.
I scanned the descriptions of what everything was in front of me, but read none of it. The dark sky turned the windows beside the display into mirrors. My butterfly bandage on my forehead stood out in the reflection. I traced my fingers over it. Explaining this to my family without them freaking would be a minor miracle. A text would probably come in soon. How many hours had it been since the last one?
“The game’s probably over by now.” I stared at Ezra in the windows.
He nodded and stepped beside me. “The guys sent me a text saying they were headed back to the hotel. Did your friend message you?”
“I told her I’d message her later or meet her back at the hotel.”
It was hard to resist watching Ezra.
He had to be one of the quietest people I’d ever met, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. More like he was listening to everything I said and everything going on around us. Soaking it all in and observing everyone.
We walked toward the sports exhibit. There were different setups you could enter to test inertia and kinetic energy.
“Let’s try this.” I rushed toward the test where you were suspended high in the air, hoisted by cables.
He grabbed my arm. “It’s probably not a good idea after your fall. You’ve been good so far, but why aggravate a possible issue?”
My stomach dropped.
His attentiveness and interest. The way he watched me. Maybe he wasn’t flirting. He felt bad for me. He was babysitting. Idiot!
“You probably had a lot planned for tonight. Your friends are probably wondering where the hell you are. You should go back to the hotel. You’re relieved of duty, Ezra.” I patted his arm and tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
“What? Why?” he said with scrunched eyebrows and eyes filled with confusion.
“I don’t need a babysitter. That’s why you offered to bring me here, isn’t it? You wanted to keep an eye on me.”
His lips parted for a flash and I wished I could see his eyes, but it was all the answer I needed.
I turned, but he grabbed my elbow in his gentle grip.
“Maybe at first it’s why I wanted to bring you here, but I’m having fun, Willa.”
Stepping in front of him so we were toe-to-toe, I tipped back his hat, careful of his cut behind his ear.
Those big gray eyes met mine. Overwhelming honesty glowed in them like a spotlight on me.
The heart bursting feeling rushed back.
“For real? You’re not saying it to make me feel better?”
“Do I seem like a guy who says or does things just to make other people feel better?” He pushed his hat back down.
“No, you don’t. But there’s one thing you can do for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Can we go to dinner?”
“You’re hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Really? I’m not that hungry.” The loudest growl yet reverberated in his stomach, almost like speaking of food out loud unleashed the kraken in his stomach.
“Keep telling him that.” I patted his stomach. The hard muscled planes beneath his thermal needed fuel. “I saw a place not too far from here.” Marching off, I let him follow.
We stopped at a waterfront upscale chain restaurant not far from the stadium. With the game over a couple hours ago, the crowds weren’t too heavy, but it was a nicer place. Not too high end, this close to the stadium, but actual glasses on the table and cloth napkins.
Ezra glanced around back and forth. Discomfort rippled off him.
“Can you get us a table? I need to go to the bathroom.”
His short nod was tight. He walked up to the hostess stand, and I scooted off to the bathroom, making a beeline for a guy in a suit. “Hi, are you a manager?”
The man stopped short pasted on a polite smile, probably expecting a complaint. “Yes, how can I help you?”
“Do you have gift cards?” Taking my wallet out of my coat pocket, I glanced over my shoulder and leaned back to look at the dining room.
The hostess escorted Ezra to a table.
“We do. It comes with a gift envelope and card.”
“I don’t need the envelope, but can you put on double your most expensive entrée on one for me and write an expiration date for the end of the year on it?” I handed the manager my credit card.
His eyebrows furrowed. “Our cards are good for one year.”
“I know.” My neck flushed, heating under my coat. “I know, but I plan on using them all tonight.”
His look of confusion didn’t clear, but he shrugged and swiped my card. “Sure, I can do that.” Probably wasn’t the oddest request to come out of this place.
I dashed into the bathroom and checked my head. My reflection was a reminder of how bad things could’ve gone today. With gentle fingertips, I brushed against the butterfly bandages. That would be sore for a while. Once Walsh saw it, he’d probably freak out and plan on escorting me from my dorm to class like I might pass out any second.
My phone buzzed. I grabbed it and, like I summoned it, Walsh’s name popped up on the screen.
Walsh: Haven’t heard from you
Me: Sorry warden, I didn’t know it was time for lights out already
Walsh: Smart ass. Where are you?
Me: At the bottom of the river
Walsh sent an angry emoji. I finished washing my hands and took off my coat, glad at least blood hadn’t gotten on my shirt.
Me: Real mature. I’m having dinner. Happy?
Walsh: Be safe and tell Maggie, I said hi.
Me: Will do.
A few hours later when I saw her.
The manager handed me the gift card as I passed the hostess station. Flipping open my wallet, I shoved the card inside and found Ezra at a table by the windows. Putting my coat on the back of the chair, I pulled it out and sat across from him, massaging the card I’d stuck inside to beat up the envelope a little. “What looks good?”
“The water.” He joked, but his shoulders were tight. “Maybe the soup.”
“That bad, huh?” I shoved my hand into my coat pocket and pulled out my wallet. “Let me see how much money I have.”
“No, you don’t have to pay.” He lurched forward, rattling the silverware and our cups already filled with water.
“I’m the one who suggested this place. Just let me see how much cash I have.”
“Willa, seriously.” He glanced at the tables around us and lowered his voice. “It’ll be okay.”
I pulled out my planted gift card. “Wow, I completely forgot I had this. See, dinner’s on me.” I slapped it down on the table.
“I can’t do that.”
“It expires in a couple weeks. My only chance to spend it will be this weekend.”
“They don’t have one of these where you are?”
“They do, but I’ll be going home for the break and there isn’t one near my house.”
He crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward. “You just so happen to have a gift card expiring in a couple weeks for a restaurant you didn’t know you were going to be stopping at.”
“Crazy, right?” I picked up the menu and scanned the options.
“Totally.” Skepticism hung in the air.
“The steak looks delicious.” The menu just became the most fascinating piece of literature I’d ever encountered.
“Would you like to place a drink order?” Our server showed up and bailed me out.
Ezra didn’t put up a fight over ordering actual food, though. Conversation flowed. We talked about classes—kinesiology for him and German and Japanese for me. He got a steak, scalloped potatoes, and broccoli. I had the blackened fish tacos with fries.
He only faked running from the table when I admitted I went to Fulton U, the STFU arch nemesis, instead of actually abandoning me. We talked about our favorite movies. He was strictly sci-fi and action, while I loved fantasy. For dessert, we ordered a warm brown butter chocolate chunk cookies skillet.
“Can I get a glass of cold milk with those?” Ezra glanced up at the server like he was afraid she’d scream hell no and march off.
“I’ll take one too.”
He smiled with a slight head nod. “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.” I shifted in my seat, shoving my tingling hands under my thighs. Sitting across from him was a lot more nerve-racking than wandering around a museum together. His jaw was mesmerizing. Cupid’s bow magnetic, but his eyes. When he looked at me, it felt like he could see every secret I’d ever tried to hide. “How about you?”
“Tomorrow morning. I rode in on a bus with my roommates. We’ve got to be back to campus by ten.”
“Early morning then.” Disappointment dented my stomach. It meant no meeting up tomorrow. He’d be gone before I left for the airport.
“They’re all I know.”
The server came back with a still steaming skillet of cookies with pools of chocolate on top, ready for our ice-cold milk.
Digging in with my fork, instead of waiting for it to cool down, I dunked it through the mouth of the glass. The milk swirled with the melty chocolate and I ate it, covering my open mouth with my hand to chew it without burning the shit out of my tongue.
“That impatient?” He took one of the slices and broke it in half. There was no juggling or ginger touches. His fingers probably had a lot more heat protection than mine.
“These are damn good cookies.” I repeated my method until my third bite, which was cool enough that I could eat it with my mouth fully closed. The sugar, vanilla, and chocolate were ready to slip me into a dessert dream. I opened my eyes and caught Ezra staring at me like he was trying to figure me out, or maybe I had chocolate on my face. I wiped at the corners of my mouth with a napkin. “What do you think of them?” I nodded to his second half, hovering above his cup.
“Not bad.” The cookie disappeared into his mouth.
“Did you even chew?”
His shoulders shook. “Don’t need to when they melt in your mouth.”
The server brought over the check, and I reached for it.
He covered my hand with his. “You have to at least let me pay for the tip.”
“The gift card—”
“Willa. I get that you wanted to pay for the meal, but at least let me do this,” he said, a little exasperated and embarrassed.
My spine stiffened. “You knew.” I let him slide the folio over from under my grasp.
He checked the total before dropping a generous, wallet-clearing tip. “I figured if you wanted to pay for my meal enough to go through all that trouble, coming up with talking to the manager and the gift card thing, then I should let you.”
“How’d you know?”
“The expiration date is on the side of your hand. The ink must not have been dry yet when you put it in your purse.” He lifted my hand and turned it, revealing the numbers clearly stamped on my skin.
Stunned, my mouth opened and closed. I dropped the gift card into the folio, which was taken away. “You’re a surprising guy, Ezra.”
“Not even a little.”
The server came back with a bag of cookies to finish out the cash on the gift card.
Ezra pushed his chair back and walked around the table. He picked up my coat and held it up for me to put it on. “Let’s get you back to your hotel.”
My stomach filled with tacos and chocolate chip cookies felt feather light as his hands brushed along my arms when I slipped it on. My hotel. With Ezra. The possibilities were endless.
If you want to find out what those possibilities are, preorder Ezra Johannsen’s book, A Rival’s Kiss, coming on May 5th. It’s a side of Johannsen you haven’t seen before!