Page 231 of Wrath

“For tall athletes.”

I get between his legs, and we use shampoo to make bubbles.

“You need real bubble bath,” I murmur.

“Or bath bombs.” Ezra laughs.

“Fuck yeah. Bath bombs.”

It feels so good to be here with him. Ez washes my hair, soaping it up and grinning at me when I look over my shoulder, making my throat lump up.

He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him—such an improbable outcome of losing a few months of one’s memory.

“I really can’t believe you ever remembered me,” I tell him, as we tuck into his bed, having polished off a large delivery Hawaiian pizza. Ezra pulled the blinds up, so we can see a swatch of campus down below us. It’s the only light in the room.

“It wasn’t that hard, since I wrote ‘Miller’ on my arm. But I think I always would have. Shit seems like it’s shifting in my head now. That memory at your place was weird…the one where I had that déjà vu moment and said the thing about Aristotle.”

“Did it kind of scare you?” I feel hesitant to ask, but he seems okay answering.

“Yeah. It’s…I don’t know. I guess disorienting. Honestly, it felt just like strong déjà vu.”

“That makes sense, I think.”

We watch someTiny House Hunters, and Ezra falls asleep with his arm around me and his cheek on my chest. When my phone buzzes at 5 a.m. to get me up so I can drive his Jeep to Auburn, he sits up, too, giving me a sleepy smile.

“Go back to sleep, angel.” I kiss him, and Ez kisses me back. “There’s no way I’m not walking you out, dude.”

“What if someone sees you?”

He shrugs. “Just don’t really give a fuck.”

We brush our teeth together, and it feels like old times.

We smile in the mirror, and Ezra arches a brow. “Did we do this before?”

“A time or two.”

He hugs me, taking me by surprise. “Thank you, Miller.”

“For what?” I laugh.

His hand strokes back through my hair. “For being you.”

I send him snaps as I head back to Auburn—one of the road, one of a pack of donuts I get at the gas station, one of me smiling, and another of me leaning against his Jeep in my apartment’s parking lot. I think he might be napping, but during my first class, he snaps me back. Ezra needing a shave, giving his phone’s cam a heavy-lidded smile from his bed. I send him one after class, and then he calls.

“Hey. Is it okay that I called?”

“It’s the most okay thing I can think of. Some might even say amazing.”

I can hear his smile as he says, “Good. I wasn’t sure.”

“Always be sure.”

“I miss you,” he says softly.

“I miss you too. So much. What are you doing?”

He tells me he’s outside his calculus class, and I realize I haven’t even asked about his major.

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