Page 39 of Texts From My Exes
I shoved his chest. “Please! Your dick said ‘hello’ before I could stop it.”
He barked out a laugh. “A pretty damnlargehello, don’t you think?”
“Ew! That’s not how adults shake hands, Ezra!”
He spun me, pinning me back against the fridge. His eyes burned into mine. “Fine. I wanted it to be me.”
Every ounce of fight drained out of me. My breath hitched. “What do you mean?”
His gaze searched mine. “Maybe for once, I wanted to be the hero. Not hero support.”
A smirk tugged at my lips. “Did you just quoteSky Highat me?”
“You left me no choice.”
“You know that’s my favorite movie.”
“The soundtrack’s criminally underrated.”
“Acting was top tier too,” I admitted.
He stepped back at last, running a hand through his hair. “Listen—we’re ride or die. Go on the other dates, finish this thing. How bad could it be living together and filming every day? Content houses do it all the time.”
I sighed. “It’s like you’ve never heard that Alex Warren song about burning things to the ground.”
He made a face. “Okay, fine, point goes to you. But I don’t think we’re going to have a problem here. Everyone wins.”
Something in my gut still twisted. “I win. But what doyouget?”
His expression softened. “Your win is my win, Harper. I thought you knew that.”
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
EZRA
My car smells like your perfume, and I can’t stop sneezing. I think I’m allergic. Or maybe it’s just you, to be safe, let’s end things now. Yesterday I sneezed so hard I almost shit myself in rush hour traffic, I don’t need this.
—Bryant
The second Harper disappeared into her room for a shower, I slipped onto the balcony with my phone. Cold air cut through the morning haze, but it wasn’t enough to clear my head.
I scrolled past the endless mentions, the hashtags, the videos slowed down frame-by-frame analyzing the way I’d looked at her like she was oxygen. None of that mattered. Not compared to the text I’d gotten.
Call me.
No name attached. None needed.
I hit the number.
The line clicked, and then that voice—smooth as glass, sharp as knives. “Ah. I was expecting this.”
My stomach sank. “What do you really want?”
“You know what I want.” He sounded almost amused. “You promised me a show. I never got the show. And now? Now you’re trending worldwide. You fell right into my lap. Or should I say—right on my FYP page, never been more thankful for social media in my entire career.”
“This isn’t about you.” My voice came out rougher than I intended. “If this is about-“
