Page 25 of Our Forbidden Romance 1

“Hey! I am not a jackass,” I protest. Alana raises her brow at me. “Fine, I can be a jerk.” I can’t help the laugh even though I’m defeated. “I enjoyed today with you. I think I needed it.” I lean in and kiss her cheek. I swear I see her blush when I do. It is cute in spite of all the dirty things we have done together a simple kiss on the cheek makes her blush.

We hesitantly say one last goodbye before she heads inside. I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. I was hoping things would have ended differently. I shake my head, beginning to walk away, but I don’t get far before I turn back. I knock loudly on the door, making sure she hears me. It only takes her a second to answer.

“Can I help you? Did you miss me already?” She snickers.

My next move may earn me a slap. I don’t say a word, instead, I reach for her, pulling her to me, and press my lips to hers. She doesn’t return the kiss, not at first, but after a moment her arms snake around my neck, and she kisses me back.

I hold her tightly to me, taking her face in my hands and deepen the kiss. She whimpers, becoming completely weak for me like she always does when we kiss. Alana fists my tee. I want nothing more than to push her into her apartment and have my way with her, but I choose not to, not this time. I reluctantly part my lips from hers and take a step back.

“I will be seeing you, bright eyes.” I wink and walk away.

“Really?” she calls after me, the annoyance clear in her voice.

I don’t answer and continue to walk off, smirking to myself. With any luck I have done enough to make her reach out to me. I need to go back to the park for my car. I don’t want to go home, but I don’t have anywhere else to go.

* * *

I arrive home. “Bella, are you here?” I call out, but there is no answer. Hopefully she has gone home. I quickly search my house, but she is nowhere in sight.

I dump my things on the kitchen counter, grab a beer from the fridge, and finally turn my phone back on. The second I do the notifications come through, some are to do with work, but mostly it’s texts, missed calls, and voice messages from Bella. I listen to them. In typical Bella style they are full of abuse and name calling. They don’t bother me anymore because I am used to them. The texts were pretty much the same.

I am not even going to respond. I will call her later after I give her enough time to calm down. Just as I sit down to relax, the stupid thing starts to ring again. I let out a groan, then check it. I expect to read Bella’s name on the screen, but it is a pleasant surprise when I see Alana’s name. I chuckle, not expecting her to call so soon.

“Hey, angel,” I coo answering, knowing it will probably annoy her.

“Oh, don’t you angel me. What is wrong with you? You can’t just kiss a girl like that and walk away!”

“Why not?” I tease her mercilessly.

“Because you just can’t, okay? It’s cruel, and you suck.” She huffs.

I do try to stop it, but a loud laugh escapes from my lips. “No, angel, you are the one that sucks, and very well.” I wait for the line to go dead due to my smartass mouth irking her. She has to give me some credit because I behaved for most of our time together, and now I just need to get my thoughts out.

“Yes. You should probably remember that feeling, Ezra, because you won’t experience it again.” I can’t see her face, but I sense she has a smug look on it.

“Oh, trust me, bright eyes, I won’t ever forget that feeling.” It was too good to forget. I hear her giggle on the other end, she doesn’t seem mad at me after all.

“Anyway, I was just calling to say what I said. Enjoy your night, Ezra. Goodbye.” She sighs loudly before hanging up.

I toss my cell aside in irritation wishing Alana would stick to one thing, either have nothing to do with or something to do with me because the back and forth is starting to mess with my head. I know I’ve no right to feel this way because I’m the one in a relationship and I should probably understand better why Alana doesn’t want to get involved, but I don’t, and that is because of my selfish side coming into play.

I down my beer yet feel the need for something stronger. I head to my office because it’s where I keep my best scotch locked away. Taking the key from my desk drawer, I open the cabinet and decide on a glass of a single malt. A forty-six-year-old Loch Lomond scotch, one I only drink on the odd occasion because it is an expensive bottle. It is over four grand, though this one was gift from my father on my last birthday which he picked up on a trip to Scotland last year with my mother.

I pour a double without ice because ice ruins the taste and take a sip. It instantly tickles my taste buds with a mixture of sweet, fruity and a little spice. It is a fine scotch, one of my favourites.

I sit on my desk chair, and stare out of the window, getting lost in my thoughts. It is going to be a long night pondering. Maybe if I drink enough I can forget everything and worry about it tomorrow.

I’m havingthe night from hell at work and want nothing more than to go home, have a shower, and go to sleep. The event I’m working tonight is full of entitled jerks who think it’s okay to grab my ass any time I walk by, and of course my boss does nothing about it! I told him I refused to cater to them, and he threatened to fire me! They are lucky I never punched them, but if I did I am sure I would be the one to get into trouble and made out to be in the wrong. In the end I decided it wasn’t worth it.

My week has been pretty much the same, one thing after another. It is just one of those times where everything has been going wrong between work and classes. I think it may be karma from sleeping with Ezra. As for Ezra, he tried calling a couple of times, but I didn’t answer, and he eventually gave up. I have too much going on to even think about him.

I approach the street my apartment building is on and see red flashing lights. What the hell is going on? I pick up my pace as my building comes into view. I notice it is cordoned off with tape. There’s two fire trucks, an ambulance, and two police cars parked in the middle of the street. There’s smoke coming from my building. Panic takes over me as worry for my neighbours and home hits me, and I run, trying to find someone to tell me what happened. I spot a couple who live on my floor, surely they will know what’s going on.

“Margaret! James! What happened?” I ask, concern gripping me tightly in its grasp.

“There was a fire on our floor. We don’t know what the damage is. No one is telling us anything.” She sobs. Margaret and James have lived in our building for forty years, they moved in after they were twenty-year-old newlyweds.

“No. This can’t be happening. Why isn’t anyone telling us anything? I will be right back.” I whimper. I decide I’m going to get answers because we need to know what is going on.

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