Page 54 of Texts From My Exes
“I mean—good. Yes. Because being dirty is…bad for sheets. And the environment.”
I winced.
She pressed her palm to my forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Bit hot,” I admitted, biting my lip. “Clothes. Right. Shower. I’ll just—go this way.”
I turned the wrong way again and cracked my head on the wall. “Door! Iknowthere’s a door!”
“Right there.” She pointed.
“Yes. Yup, that’s the one. Solid. Groovy. Ha-ha.” Shit. Damn. Hell. Shit. “I’ll see ya.”
See ya?What, at the neighborhood barbecue? Did I need to wave goodbye?
I fled, slammed my door shut, and whimpered at my reflection in the mirror. My face was red, my soul in shambles.
That went well. Real well.
This ended now.
So she wanted to date him? So she’d had a good time? Fine.
I was going to change her world.
And it started with playing dirty.
Her classroom.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
HARPER
Sorry that breaking a bed is such a turn off, prude, next time you match with someone maybe lead with the fact that you’re a pearl clutching KAREN! It’s not like I didn’t buy her a new one! Canopy beds are expensive!
— Gill
He wasn’t there again. Typical.
I grabbed a coffee and drove to Sheraton Shore Elementary—my school, my happy place. Old brick, low ceilings, and the smell of pencils and books baked into every sweater I owned. Fifth grade was chaos and miracles mixed together: half my class still innocent while the other half were busy sprouting hair and answering questions in squeaky voices. Not all heroes wore capes. Some of us wrangled the wonders of puberty and long division—often times with red bull in each hand.
I was smiling to myself when I pushed open my classroom door and froze. Everything was set up. Desks arranged, bulletin boards decorated, supplies unpacked. Even the little nametags for each of the desks were already on top ready for me to mark up their names and draw a little picture. I kept looking around and stopped when I saw it in the reading corner, a neonsign glowed:Perseverance.In bold green. Just like his glasses—reminding me of him. It had always been my favorite corner—even more so now. He was bent over a blue bean bag and stacking books onto the shelf.
“Ezra.” I whispered.
He looked up, sleeves shoved to his forearms, Nike cap low over his glasses. Arms corded, veins taut—God, I hated myself for noticing. The obsession with how he looked all could have really been avoided if he wouldn’t have touched me, kissed me, made me wonder even more what it would be like if it was just me and him. If anuswas even possible.
“Surprise?” Ezra shrugged, his massive grin used to make me roll my eyes or laugh—never had it made my entire body feel like it had been lit on fire the way it did now, like I was seconds away from barreling towards him, knocking him into the bean bag and smashing my face against his while trying to rip off the glasses and hat. The body wants what it wants—and the heart, well the heart had always been half way in love anyway—the brain just new better by telling the heart to stop thumping so hard and get over it.
Not anymore. Nope. The brain noise was gone and all I had was my heart telling me he was perfect and my body saying let’s hydrate and climb that man!
Tears blurred my eyes. He reached for me, caught me, pulled me in, then snapped a selfie of us mid-hug. “To being done before even starting.” He kissed my cheek as the sound of him snapping the picture filled the room, it wasn’t loud but I felt it—physically, like he’d just pressed “go” on something he couldn’t stop. Incredible, how one small movement could define or mean so many different things, could make you breathe a bit different, create goosebumps that won’t go away and feelings that linger in the air.
My breath hitched. Maybe he hadn’t meant to do that. No cameras. No one watching. Just us.
“Ezra…” My lips trembled. I’d be protecting myself if I said nothing. I’d be regretful if I stayed silent.
