Page 1 of Falling for Ezra Thomas
Chapter One
Lorelai
Several weeks ago…
Ezra laughs so hardhe shakes the sofa. Watching episodes ofI Love Lucyis probably the best idea he’s had in a while, which makes waiting around for my sister and his brother to return from their date a little less tedious and boring.
At first, I had no desire to spend time with the other half of the twin phenoms, but I must admit, he’s more fun than I remember. It’s been a while since we hung out. Well, not exactly. I did spend significant time chatting with him after Vivien spilled the beans that she’s been secretly dating his brother, but that doesn’t really count ashanging out.
“They just don’t make great shows like this anymore,” I say and go in for another handful of popcorn. How I managed to convince Ezra not to put chocolate chips in it, I’ll never know, but now I’m beginning to think a little sweet with my fiftieth handful of salty might be a good idea.
“Yeah. It’s too bad though. Lucille Ball is easily one of the funniest women to ever live.” Ezra waits for me to pull my hand out of the bowl and grabs a few pieces of popcorn.
“I think working with Vivian Vance really upped her comedic value too, though.”
“Were they friends in real life?” he asks, glancing at me.
I shrug. “I think so. I’m not positive. Here, let me look it up. I’m sure it’s somewhere on the internet.” I swipe my phone on, noting that it’s getting kind of late. Hopefully, Beck and Vivien will return soon. I’ll worry if she’s out too late in this cold weather, and with the weather report calling for snow, too.
Ezra leans close to look at my phone and I get a whiff of his peanut butter cup popcorn breath. Okay, he might have had some good ideas about adding candy to the popcorn, but I’m not about to admit that to him.
“Looks like, yes, they were close friends off air. That’s cool to know. I guess besties on and off the shows,” I say, and continue scrolling. I learn a little more about their friendship while it’s on commercial break. Silly streaming shows are supposed to be ad free, but it never fails. I always choose the shows that aren’t.
“Wonder where Beck and Viv are,” Ezra ponders aloud while checking his watch.
“I was wondering the same thing. Should I call her?”
“Nah, give them a little while longer. It’s not like they have a curfew, but yeah, I’ll be worried if they aren’t home in an hour or so.” He pops another kernel in his mouth and chomps in my ear.
“Do you mind? That’s my ear, dude.” It’s teasing in tone, but he scowls, puts more in his mouth, leans in, and crunches again. “Ugh, gross.”
I lean over to put my phone down and the next thing I know, it’s raining popcorn.
“Ezra!” I screech and swat the little puffs to no avail. I toss popcorn back at him, igniting a fight that is likely to end with one of us getting hit in the eye with buttery goodness.
An all-out war takes over my little living room, covering the sofa in bits and pieces of food I know will take forever to vacuum up. Still, it’s freeing to let go, be silly, and have fun with a good friend. It’s been busy for me the past few months, and it will only get worse in the coming weeks. I release whatever inhibitions I might have about acting like a child—namely that this will be a big mess to clean up, and I’m behaving, well, like a child—and throw handfuls of popcorn at Ezra.
He artfully dodges most of them and flings his own wads back at me. Eventually, we run out of whatever was in the bowl and a short-term peace agreement is instituted.
“I need a sip of water,” he says, grinning.
He’s dumped the rest of the bowl out, so there’s no way for me to restock while he’s taking a break. I spy our backup bowl sitting on the side table—because the guy made three bags of popcorn and is likely to eat them all—and make a plan.
The second he puts his glass back down, I practically lunge over his lap to reach it before he realizes what my gaze has zoned in on.
“Lore! Oh my gosh,” he says with anoomph,indicating he probably took an elbow to the gut. I’ve got my hands on the popcorn, my ammunition for round two, when his hand settles on my lower back, his fingers digging into my side. I glance at him, a warning glare ready just in case he intends to tickle me. I hate it, and heknowsthat.
His gaze locks with mine and he lessens his grip ever so slightly. And at this angle, I notice how very beautiful his eyes are. Soft and warm, they seem to take me in, observe me in a way he hasn’t before. My heart pounds. My palms sweat. My stomach dips into the roller coaster I’ve never felt. I swallow and move tosit back on my side of the sofa when he starts rubbing soft, slow circles on my back.
I freeze again, confused. What is he doing? Why?
Making eye contact with him proves to be a poor decision, since we end up locked in a staring contest. The tension builds, but I’m at a loss as towhatkind of tension it is and why. Did I do something wrong? Hurt him somehow when I leaned over him? The way he presses his hand to my back says otherwise.
When he tilts his head ever so slightly and narrows his eyes, I sit fully. His hand slides from my back but a blink later, he palms both of my cheeks and leans in. I don’t stop him. I’m not even sure what’s about to happen, but for reasons only my subconscious mind is aware of, I trust him.
His lips brush against mine, and when I make no move to stop him still, he presses harder.
Oh. My. Gosh.
