Page 18 of Maybe This Time
“Don’t be silly,” I deadpanned. “You know I never need a break from you.”
His cheeks flushed, and I forced myself not to read into it. Instead, I lay back down, ignoring the butterflies fluttering in my stomach that had begun taking flight the moment I saw him perched over the ledge of my window.
Ezra joined me, settling beside me in the same position, so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body. A shiver danced down my spine despite the oversized hoodie—hishoodie—I was wearing over my dress. He’d left it behind one night after coming over for dinner and I’d selfishly kept it. I did that a lot. Collected little pieces of him whenever he left them behind. At this point, I had enough of his things in my closet to build my own “Ezra James” wardrobe.
He’d never asked for any of it back and I wasn’t going to offer it. I liked wearing his stuff. It didn’t help with my delusion of being his, but I was just a girl. Could you really blame me?
We stayed like that for a while, side by side, both gazing up at the midnight sky in silence. The air filled with everything I wanted to tell him but couldn’t. Too afraid to cross the line and ruin what we had.
“So,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the stillness. “What’s on your mind, Taly-Belly?”
Another butterfly took flight. He’d given me that nickname the day we’d met when we were five and six years old respectively, after I’d introduced myself and he’d thought Talya was too simple. He’d claimed I’d needed a brighter name to match me.
If five-year-old Talya could have grasped the concept of love at that age, that moment would have probably been the catalyst for years of quiet, unrequited love.
I let out a slow breath. “I’m just gonna miss you,” I answered honestly. My unspoken words weighed heavily on the tip of my tongue.
Stay.
Don’t leave me behind.
I love you, Ezra James, and the thought of not being near you every day is killing me.
“I’ll miss you too,” he said, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me.
I’d expected him to make a joke and lighten the grim atmosphere like he always did. Instead, his tone carried the same strain as mine.
As if leaving me behind tore him up inside as much as it did for me.
“Promise you won’t forget about me?” I asked, finally bringing myself to meet his gaze.
Normally, I’d hate being this vulnerable with someone, but that had never been the case with Ezra. I’d always felt like I could tell him anything and he’d never judge me or make me feel silly for feeling the way I did.
Yet another reason I loved him.
Ezra reached out, slowly tucking a loose strand behind my ear before letting his fingers trail down the side of my face. My skin came alive under his touch, the sensation of his skin over mine halting any oxygen from filtering inside my lungs.
“That would be impossible,” he murmured, his fingers lingering just a moment longer before falling away.
The loss of his touch felt like a jolt back to reality. I cleared my throat and blurted the first thing that came to mind, anything to tamp the reaction my body was having.
“Just don’t break too many hearts,” I teased, or at least I hoped that was what my tone conveyed. But the words tasted bitter the second they left my mouth. Just the thought of Ezra with someone else twisted my stomach into knots.
He scrunched up his nose and averted his gaze. “That’s very unlikely.”
I propped myself on my elbow, turning slightly to face him. “Please,” I scoffed, hoping to hide the green vines of jealousy creeping up my throat. “With a face like yours, you’ll have all the French girls at your feet.”
I’d seen Ezra flirt with people. It was practically ingrained in his personality, which was why I’d always brushed off the moments he flirted with me. But for someone with his insanely good looks and wonderfully charming personality, he’d never actually had a girlfriend. At least not that I’d known of. We told each other everything and spent practically every waking second together, so I doubted he’d keep that from me.
Right?
But men were men at the end of the day. Although just thinking that about Ezra felt wrong because I knew how untrue that statement was when it came to him.
He looked up at me, his gaze slow and deliberate. “It would be a little hard when I’m leaving my heart behind with someone else,” he said, his voice low enough that it sank beneath my skin.
Something flared in his gaze, something between longing and desire, but I had to be imagining it. I must have misheard him or made up what he’d just said from all these years of wishful thinking.
My puzzlement must’ve been written all over my face because suddenly, the space between us had all but vanished. His arm brushed against mine, and heat rippled through my entire body.
