Page 40 of A Love Song for Ricki Wilde

He stood up and pulled out the bench for her, sweeping off the construction debris with his hands. He carefully laid his coat on the bench so she wouldn’t dirty her gown. Ezra brought such a level of care to every word and movement that being in his presence made her feel taken care of, too. Protected. Secure. Which was surprising to Ricki, given the strange nature of their connection. Endeared, she sat down.

They both stared down at their hands, not sure what to do next.

Ezra spoke first. “So, when you got that panicky feeling in the woods, did you run?”

“Hell no, how could I? I was communing with the divine.” She smiled wistfully, remembering. “I guess I’m not frightened by what I don’t understand.”

“I think the divine is everywhere,” said Ezra. “The world’s so much more than what we catch with our five senses. And most people don’t even bother to catch the obvious. The crowd upstairs? They heard music coming from nowhere, but you were the only one to investigate.”

“I’m demonstrably nosy,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back.

“Can I admit something?” she asked. “I’m glad I found you. Parties make me panic.”

“They do?” Ezra looked surprised. “Why?”

“My family’s very social. I grew up going to galas and fancy dinners. I’m terrible at it.”

“That’s hard to imagine.”

“It’s true. I can’t relax, too afraid of people seeing me. Judging me. Deciding that I don’t deserve my family name, the looks, the privilege.” And then she divulged her truest, scariest thought. “I’m afraid that I don’t belong anywhere. Do you ever feel like that?”

She looked at Ezra, her eyes wide with vulnerability.

“Every day,” he admitted. “I look like something I’m not. And I never feel at home.”

Ezra glanced back at her, his expression open. Tender.

They fell into contemplative silence, two unknowable people who understood each other, almost too easily.

“Why do you think we keep running into each other?” asked Ricki. “Is it a leap year thing? Like you said, every fourth February, things get weird.”

“It’s more than that.” Intensity darkened his brow. “Things could get dangerous, Ricki.”

Ezra says my name like he’s said it before, alone, to himself. He says it like he likes the taste of it. Like it’s some forbidden, private pleasure.

Ezra’s gaze on Ricki melted her to liquid. She blinked slowly, meeting his eyes. They drank each other in, indulgently—for how long, Ricki didn’t know. When they were together, time seemed to stretch and bend, like they were lost in their own private world. Here in this dusty, half-constructed space, they were eons away from the noise upstairs.

After a few moments, Ezra lazily began stroking the keys, a smooth, fluid motion. It was a snippet of whatever he’d started playing before. The notes settled over Ricki’s skin like satin, raising goose bumps and quickening her heartbeat. It sounded familiar, like she already knew it in her bones, while it also felt otherworldly.

“What… what are you playing? It’s beautiful.”

Before Ezra could answer, the back door opened and shut with a loud BAM. Heels were clicking across the floor, followed by someone else shuffling behind.

“FUCK ME, NOT YOU AGAIN!” Tuesday hollered at Ezra, streaming toward the piano in a furious blur of gold lamé, her new crush trailing behind her. Ezra and Ricki bolted off the bench. Tuesday stopped at the platform, chest heaving. Her guy held her steady by the shoulders.“Why are you stalking Ricki? Leave her alone!”

Ricki rushed to Tuesday’s side. “Calm down! I’m fine, I promise!”

Tuesday pointed an acrylic nail at Ezra. “My girl doesn’t realize you’re a creep, ’cause she’s a sheltered suburban girl. I’m not, though. Iwillfight a nigga.”

“You will?” asked her new guy nervously.

Ezra glanced in his direction. “Rethinking the past half hour, huh?”

Incensed, Tuesday made a move to lunge toward him, but Ricki held her back.

“Tuesday, stop. Don’t do this, not during Black History Month. We’ll talk later, okay?”

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