Page 228 of Wrath

"No one." He drags his fingertip over my bare knee.

We end up showering together, and I run my hands all over his beautifully sculpted body.

“A work of art,” I murmur.

“A work of the gym.”

We kiss and almost end up going at each other again, but Ezra pulls me up against him and holds me for so long I think he needs that more.

"I don't want to leave today,” he murmurs.

"I don't want you to either.” I press my cheek against his. “I've got an idea. What if I ride up with you and take the bus home? We could talk in the Jeep. And I could see where you live. Even if it's just the outside of the building. I know you probably have things to do today."

"Are you fucking kidding me, Josh? Please ride up with me. I have nothing to do. A team meeting at 4:30, but then nothing. It's a Sunday. I'd ask you to stay the night, but I bet you've got a class tomorrow."

"Actually, I do. An 8:30, and that professor is a psycho."

"Here's an even weirder idea.” He quirks a brow up. “How would you feel about riding up with me and droppingmeoff. Then you bring my car back to me in a few days, and after that, I'll drive you back home?"

I think that’s the moment that I know it's going to be okay. That he means all this. Ezra notices me being weird and kisses my cheeks and forehead, and then he gets out of the shower and wraps me in a towel like a little kid.

He wraps another towel awkwardly around my head. "Spa day."

"Is that what they do at the spa?" I tease.

"I don't know. It could be."Ez gives me a funny little grin,and then he scoops me up in his arms like I’m light as a feather. He carries me to bed and lays me on top of my covers and says, "I'll dress you today. All you have to do is call me Daddy.”

He does just that, and it’s crazy charming—Ezra in this new and gentle mode, with all his doting smiles and temple kisses. When he steps into the bathroom, I say, “Scoop the Xannies up. We can seal them in a Ziplock bag and bury them.”

Ezra borrows some of my clothes, and we head out into a chilly, sunny day together—like the last year never happened. We end up racing each another across the big student parking lot, Ezra running backwards, laughing. Then he spreads his arms out like he’s blocking me, but instead he catches me against his chest and whirls me around. After a while longer acting like romantics, we pick a spot right at the edge of the science building’s lawn, and I stand in between the road and Ezra as he digs a quick hole with a stick and does the deed.

“Did you really put them there?” I whisper.

“You want me to take them with me?” he asks, looking serious.

“No. Just put them there. I’m not going to dig them up.”

“You sure about that?”

“I promise.”

Ezra

Do Gooder. I think it suits him. I can tell, as I drive us toward Tuscaloosa, just how much it bothers him—the way his last year has gone. Somehow, band comes up, and he seems self-conscious as he explains that he’s not in band at Auburn.

“I don’t know why,” he says. “Actually that’s not true. I just didn’t feel it this year. Maybe later.”

It makes him sad. I don’t think I’d be able toread him so well if I hadn’t stalked him so hard on Instagram and Snapchat. But I know a lot of his expressions, and I feel like I have a solid understanding of his personality. I’m not shocked that he feels…maybe like a failure. Like he’s a little unmoored.

I ask him if he feels like he’s found his niche at college, and he laughs and squeezes my hand. “Nah, man. Not even a little. I don’t know what that means about me,” he adds wryly.

“I think it just means you’re normal.”

We talk a little about me and football. How it’s all I’ve had for years—the only anchor, “Except you.”

Mills tells me more about the months before he left for college. More about his car wreck.

“It was scary as fuck,” he says. “And I got in so much trouble. Plus, you know…the lost car.”

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