Ezra motions to my plate. “Are you going to eat that slice?”
“Probably not.” I push it toward him, and he immediately folds it in half, sitting back in the booth and devouring it in a couple of bites. “I’m saving myself for ice cream.”
He stops chewing. “Ice cream? Dad always says if you don’t finish your meal, you can’t be hungry enough for dessert.”
Reaching across, I snap up a menu from the end of the table and flip to the ice cream sundae page. I’ve been to this place a lot since I moved here—before now, only ever on my own—and I know the ice cream here is the best in town.
“Yeah, well, when it comes to treats, what your dad doesn’t know can’t hurt him …” I flick my eyes up to Ezra as he finishes a final bite of pizza. “Right?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Five minutes later and with dessert on the way, I realize Ezra never asked me the question he had when he showed up at my place.
Picking up my soda, I take a sip and set it back down. “What was it you wanted to ask me earlier?”
He takes a pull on his strawberry shake. Memories of when we met back at Rise Up flush a comforting feeling through me. I guess it was the first time he discovered bikes, and maybe it was the start of a lifelong passion for him.
“Dad said he would talk to you when he got home, but I didn’t believe him. So, I came over to ask you myself.”
I’ve got to hand it to this kid; he’s direct, and he knows what he wants. Add it to our list of commonalities.
“Go ahead,” I instruct, feeling a little nervous about what’s coming.
He releases a long sigh as two identical chocolate sundaes—topped with whipped cream, Oreos, a wafer and sliced cherries—are set down in front of us.
Ezra doesn’t move to grab his ice cream, choosing to focus on me instead. “The holidays are right around the corner, and I was wondering if I could come to your garage and we could detail your bike.” He twists his hands together on the table, lips following suit. “Alyssa and Dom normally cook dinner, and then we play board games. I don’t know if you’re seeing your family, although I kind of got the idea that maybe you don’t have a whole lot of people, like we don’t. Christmas is fun and all, but I think it would be better if we?—”
“I’d love to,” I softly interrupt his rambling. It took me exactly zero-point-two seconds to accept his invitation since it didn’t need any thought. Detailing my bike on Christmas, with Ezra, sounds like the best way to spend the day I generally don’t bother celebrating since I’m nearly always alone.
“For real?!”
I nod and smile. “Sure. Why not?”
He snaps his fingers, delighted. “All right! You could come back for dinner afterward.”
I wince, not wanting to overstep. “Well, yeah, maybe. Let me check with your dad.”
He waves a hand in front of his face, like that’s the craziest idea he’s ever heard. “Eh, he’s desperate to see you. Probably kiss you too.”
With a wafer halfway in my mouth, I practically choke on it.
Ezra balks at my reaction. “What? I already told you he likes you.” He taps his pointer finger against his temple, leaning toward me. “I can tell when a boy likes a girl.”
Feeling more than uncomfortable, I seize the opportunity to turn it around, leaning forward myself. “Oh, yeah? And are there any girls you like?”
A Sawyer-style flush paints his freckled cheeks. “No!”
Satisfied that there is, in fact, a girl he likes, I push his sundae toward him, a smug grin all over my face. “Okay, Idefinitelybelieve you. Now, eat up so I can get to the store and then drop you home before I land myself in trouble with your grandparents for keeping you out too long.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
SAWYER
It’s possible I just set the record for the fastest airport exit in human history. Jack had nothing on me as I hauled ass from the runway, racing through security and out into the parking lot.
I need to see Collins.
Seven days is nothing compared to some of the extended away series we travel for, and already, I’m thinking about how the fuck I’m going to make it through those since this one was damn torture.