Page 23 of Texts From My Exes
Every muscle in my body locked.
Her thumb brushed the cut under my eye, removing my glasses. She blew on it, the smell of red wine flooding my senses along with every bad idea I’d ever had about her.
“I always forget,” she murmured, her blurry eyes locking on mine. “How pretty you are without glasses.” Our noses touched. “I should remember, it’s weird I forget.”
Weird was not the word I’d use.
“You’re drunk,” I said.
“I’m aware.” Her nose slid against mine. “I should kiss my prince charming. Tired of frogs.”
“I’ve always hated amphibians.” I breathed the words, waiting, indecision freezing me.
“Me too.” She leaned her head on my shoulder, then slid off me and onto the couch, laying her head in my lap. “Too bad you’re not supposed to kiss your best friends. What’s that song? About the way they taste? I taste like red wine.”
She was killing me.
She rolled to her side, her hands gliding across my stomach, my hips. Every inch of me screamed.
“It’s wrong,” she whispered.
I shifted, trying not to lose my damn mind.
She scooted closer, wrapped her arms around my waist, face pressed just above where I was hardest.
“Mmm.”
I stayed still until she fell asleep.
Every painful breath reminded me—if I didn’t try one last time, I’d regret it forever.
I’d be Vex. I’d save her from herself, from humiliation—and maybe from me.
I grabbed my phone, opened the group chat with my crypto-addicted brother and his wife.
Avengers Assemble.
Two thumbs up. No questions asked.
CHAPTER
TEN
EZRA
Huhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, did you mean to text me that pic? EMILIOOOOOO a;lsdkfja;sldkfhasd;khfasig;lkjasdfkj;ad. We should bang.
—Connor
My brother’s house was so big it had its own echo.
And a smell—like money, chlorine, and faintly burnt sourdough.
Three kids worth of swim bags littered the entryway. A stack of trophies gleamed on a side table like someone had raided Michael Phelps’ storage unit.
“Uncle Ez!” A blur of small limbs shot past me, followed by the splash of a distant pool.
I followed the sound to the kitchen, where my brother—Cedric, his hair too perfect for a man who didn’t work for a living—was eating grapes one at a time like he was auditioning for a cologne ad.
