Page 67 of Echoes of Us
Ezra's smile turned, knowing."You really think it's a coincidence that he ended up with the one person who knew exactly how to push your buttons?The friend you trusted, the one who watched everything unfold this summer?"He took a sip of his drink."Cole's many things, but subtle isn't one of them."
The implication made her eyes widen."You think he's using her to hurt me?"
"I think," Ezra said carefully, "that Cole Westwood doesn't do anything by accident.And Marie..."He shrugged."Well, let's just say she's always had a talent for picking up pieces other people leave behind."
"What?"Ashley asked, though something in her gut twisted with understanding.
"Jesus Christ," Ezra snorted into his drink."You really want me to spell it out?Fine.Marie's been eye-fucking Cole since her junior year of high school.Following him around like a lost puppy, laughing at his shitty jokes, probably writing 'Mrs.Westwood' in her diary."He smirked."Cole used to make fun of her for it.Called her his personal cheerleader - and not in a nice way."
Ashley shifted uncomfortably."People change-"
"Oh, give me a break."Ezra's laugh was sharp enough to cut."The only thing that's changed is Cole's need to prove he's over you.And there's Marie, practically gift-wrapped and ready to play the role of devoted girlfriend."He leaned closer, his breath smelling of expensive wine."You know what's really fucked up?She probably thinks she's finally won him over.Like Cole Westwood suddenly developed a taste for vanilla ice cream after years of telling everyone how boring it is."
"That's cruel," Ashley said, but her voice lacked conviction.
"That's Cole," Ezra countered, his eyes gleaming."You, of all people, should know how creative he gets when he's trying to hurt someone.Though I have to admit," he raised his glass in mock salute, "screwing your best friend?That's inspired, even for him."
"You're drunk."
"And you're in denial.But hey," he shrugged, that dangerous smile playing at his lips, "at least someone's getting laid out of this clusterfuck."
Before Ashley could respond, Sarah appeared at her elbow."Everything okay here?"
"Just peachy," Ezra drawled."Having a lovely chat about the mating habits of the desperate and delusional."He drained his glass, then leaned in close to Ashley's ear."Word of advice?Next time you break Cole Westwood's heart, make sure your replacement isn't someone who's been practicing for the role since puberty."
"I want to get shitfaced," Ashley announced, returning to Sarah with a determined set to her jaw.The fairy lights blurred around her edges, making everything soft and dangerous.
"This is an art gallery opening," Sarah said slowly as if explaining to a child."With wine.And cheese plates.It's not that kind of party."
"Don't care."Ashley grabbed a bottle of wine from a passing server's tray, ignoring Sarah's protests.The glass was cool against her palm, promising oblivion."I'm done being sad.I want to be drunk."
The next few hours dissolved into a kaleidoscope of bad decisions.The wine turned everything golden and distant like she was watching herself through the water.She found herself in front of an abstract painting, gesturing wildly about how the chaotic brushstrokes reminded her of quantum uncertainty - her words slurring together as concerned art students backed away slowly.Her dress stuck to her skin as she danced with strangers, their faces blending together in the dim light.The room spun pleasantly, then not so pleasantly.
"What the hell is wrong with this one?"The words filtered through her haze, accompanied by the soft clink of glasses.
"Cole," Sarah's voice replied, tight with worry."That’s always what’s wrong with her lately."
"Ah, fuck."Ezra's voice cut through her fog."I can't let this continue.She's about to either cry about physics or throw up on a thousand-dollar painting."
"Please," Sarah begged."I can't get her to leave."
Strong arms lifted her suddenly, the world tilting dangerously.Ashley's head fell against something solid - a chest that smelled of expensive cologne and cynicism.Not the scent she wanted.Not the arms she needed.
"Is it him?"she mumbled, looking up at Ezra through mascara-smudged eyes.Her vision swam, tears or alcohol making everything blur."Are you him?"
"In your dreams, sweetheart."His voice rumbled through his chest, almost gentle.
"Ugh."She pushed weakly at him, nearly falling.Her hands caught his shirt, fingers clumsy."Put me down.You're not Cole."
"Thank God for small mercies."But his arms tightened, keeping her from crumpling to the floor."Come on, let's get you home before you ruin any more art installations with your quantum theories."
The cool night air hit her face as they stepped outside, making her realize her cheeks were wet.When had she started crying?
"We were perfect together," she heard herself say, the words falling like broken glass."In another life, we were perfect together.”
“And here I thought you weren’t fucking crazy,” Ezra muttered.
“You're an asshole," she mumbled, “a pretty asshole.”
