Page 60 of Texts From My Exes
I almost flipped off my phone.
Me
I’m going to go to sleep, she has another date with Aaron and hopefully one with me then she can wrap this farce shit up and things can go back to normal.
Blue Devil
Oh you sweet, sweet, idiot. Things will never go back to normal, you know everything about her now, everything, and you’ve crossed a very blurry line, dear Ezra, there is no forgetting a kiss like that. I have eyes.
And I was going to gouge my own out.
Me
Yeah.
Blue Devil
Sweet dreams, little bastard.
Me
Love you, too.
Blue Devil
I named one beta fish Aaron the other Ezra, I’ll let you know which one exudes is manliness and wins, it’s not looking good for Ezra though, it’s just not.
Me
THEN STOP ROOTING FOR AARON!
Blue Devil
Are we still talking about the betas?
Me
Night, fish killer.
I didn’t sleep all night, instead, I counted the hours until the morning, and decided the only way to beg for forgiveness and a chance to talk was to text—-text my fake ex.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
HARPER
Hi Harper, just checking in. I’m the ex who memorized your Starbucks order and also the way you wrinkle your nose when you lie. You know you do, and yes your drink is complicated—just like us.
—Ezra
Iwas going to murder Ezra.
He was supposed to be giving me space—letting me simmer, maybe even plot his untimely demise—not blowing up my phone like every psychotic ex on the planet. And worse? He wasn’t sending groveling apologies or “please forgive me” texts. No. He was sending stupid, swoony, fake-ex messages that had me grinning like an idiot in the middle of rush-hour traffic.
Why was he doing this? Why now? Was it even real, or was he just playing with fire—the kind of fire I’d happily light at his ankles and then fan into a full inferno until he was nothing but ash?
I huffed, tossed my phone onto my lap face down, and crossed my arms. I wasn’t supposed to be looking anyway. I was on a date. A nice date. A romantic date.
