Page 66 of Texts From My Exes
I swear I saw Babylon 5 fly past his eyes. Followed by Deep Space Nine. Images of all things Sci-Fi Channel, laptops, and graham crackers—the cinnamon kind—justerupted.She hadn’t just insulted him. She’d spit on the holy trinity of Ezra: computers, Star Trek, and snacks.
“Wow,” Aaron muttered under his breath.
“Fuck you, Aaron!” Ezra roared, lunging like a man possessed.
I scrambled between them, arms flailing, adrenaline and hysteria crashing through me. “ENOUGH!” I jabbed a finger at Aaron. “I’ll call you when we aren’t in public yelling.”
Then I turned my glare on Ezra. “Don’t follow me unless youwanta machete up your ass.”
I sighed, already stomping away, but threw one last bone over my shoulder. “And I’m sorry she slut-shamed your laptops and crapped all overThe Stargate.I’m still pissed, but…not cool. So not cool.”
I stormed home, my boots cracking against the sidewalk, rage carrying me up the cursed staircase to the apartment I suddenly hated. Cheap rent, neon sign screamingcreativity,and network contracts carved into my skin like shackles.
“Thanks a lot, Grandma,” I muttered, storming to the bathroom as if I could wash away everything else—the cameras, the humiliation, the sheer insanity of tonight.
“Harper.”
Ezra. It was Ezra.
I froze.
“Harper.”
It was sharper this time, more insistent, and it slammed straight into my ribcage. My heart lurched, hammering against my throat as I spun.
Ezra filled the doorway. Jaw already bruising from Aaron’s punch, eyes darker than midnight, shoulders set like he was ready to take on a war.
He had no right. No right looking that dark and dangerous after a bar fight—like some avenging angel who’d forgotten which side he was on. No right standing there with his lip split and his gaze burning holes in me over…laptops. Laptops and lies.
My mouth went dry.
“We need to talk.”
“I’ve talked. You’ve talked. This is why we’d never work. This is why I stayed away. This is why I drew the line in the sand—the line you so stupidly crossed in the name of saving me. Guess what? I can save myself! I could’ve hired an actor. But no. You had to swoop in. What is this, Ezra? A savior complex? Or did you just not want me to find the perfect guy?” I threw my hands up, flailing them actually, letting them punctuate the words that spilled out.
His voice was calm. Terrifyingly calm. “I’m the perfect guy.”
I froze.
“And there’s no chance in hell I’m letting some other man touch what’s mine. What’sbeenmine. The line you drew?” His mouth twisted into a dangerous half-smile as he stalked toward me. “Fuck your line. Try as hard as you want, Harper, I’ll decimate it every single time. Build a wall. Build ten. I’ll tear them down. I’m not walking away. Not now. Not ever.”
Rage—and something else—surged hot through my chest. I shoved him hard. “You don’t let me do anything!”
I shoved again, pounding my fists against him until we stumbled into the living room. My hands grabbed the nearest pillow and I hurled it at his face.
He caught it, dropped it, and lifted his hands like he was facing off in some deranged domestic standoff. Then he grabbed a potted plant.
“Put it down!” I snapped.
“You first,” he said.
“You’re insane!” I launched myself at him anyway. He caught me effortlessly with one arm and slammed me onto the couch. His face hovered above mine, breath hot, jaw bruised, eyes feral, and plant somehow set down unharmed in the process.
“You should’ve run.”
His weight pressed me into the couch cushions, bruised jaw shadowing over me, eyes wild with fury and something darker.
His eyes pinned me, molten and furious, and I felt every nerve in my body light up like a live wire. My heart thrashed in my chest, loud enough I swore he could hear it.
