Page 70 of Wrath

I grab my phone off my desk, scoop my keys up, and slide my wallet into my pocket. We don’t talk as I follow him downstairs. I don’t let my eyes drop lower than his back, which means they’re stuck on his now-bulky shoulders. How’d he do it? I swear, he’s put on fifteen pounds of muscle since he moved here.

There’s about two feet between us as he wraps his hand around the front door’s handle, pulls it open, and steps onto the porch. I’m stepping out behind him when he turns back around. I bump into him.

Both of us say, “shit.”

Ezra’s eyes widen. “Sorry.” His hand comes down on my shoulder. Then he lifts it off and steps back, bumping into my mom’s fern stand.

“Fuck,” he mutters, steadying the thing. “I was wondering—do you need a soda or water?”

Is this awkward Ezra? Why’s he looking at me like that?

“Do you?” I laugh.

His face closes itself off. “I’ll get something.”

I don’t want to trail him like a puppy, so I stand in the doorway, feeling awkward myself.

He returns with one of his Propels and hands me a Powerade, his gaze flicking up to mine before he's out the door. He walks down the steps and straight to his Jeep, leaving me to lock the front door. Which...is good, I guess. At least he doesn't think I'm an invalid.

Whatdoeshe think after last night? I can't even think about him finding me like that. I'm pretending that part didn't happen.

As I get to his passenger side, the door swings open a little.

I give him a skeptical look as I climb in. Then I frown because it smells like...bubble gum?

"You ready?" he asks. He looks pensive, unsure, and—if I’m being honest—pretty fucking hot behind the wheel.

"Not unless you give me some gum."

He gives me side-eye, like he doesn’t want to share his stash. Then he opens a compartment in the dashboard and pulls out a pack of gum. He tosses it lightly at my lap.

"Give me a piece, too," he says as he rolls by my car and starts us down the driveway.

"Uh...can you unwrap it?"

"While I drive?" He gives me his old smirk as he makes a grabby hand at me. "Let's find out. Or you can put it in my mouth."

I can't help a soft laugh.

"I'm just dicking with you."

"Always." I lean my head back against the headrest, shutting my eyes as I shake my head again.

"You gonna give it to me?"

Oh, that’s right—the gum. I pass a piece to him. It's Bubble Yum. When I was a kid, my mom used to buy it for me when we'd stop to get a Powerade from the gas station after soccer practice. I loved the duck on the wrapper. It's this punk rock duck.

I crack an eye open to see Ezra unwrapping the thing while steering with his knee. He really does look good in the Jeep. I think it suits him.

I look down at my legs, pressing my lips together. This was a bad idea.

What did you think it would be like, Josh?

I'm hit with a wave of exhaustion—so bad I almost tell him we should go back. But I can't bring myself to say it. For a while we’re quiet as he drives down neighborhood streets.

"My dad texted about Monday,” he says as he turns right, toward the town’s main drag. “One o'clock in Birmingham?"

"Hell if I know. Is that what he told you?"

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