friday,
october 15th, 2020
EZRA GREYSTONE
"Oh God, Lo, I'm not sure..." I wince, over-analysing myself in the mirror Lola has hung on the back of her door in her dorm.
"What?!" she splutters, "Ez, you look gorgeous! Is it not comfortable?" she questions, almost as if she's wondering why on the green Earth I wouldn't wear such a pretty dress.
And it is a pretty dress— actually, it's stunning. But I just don't know if it suits me.
"No, no," I mutter, "It is comfy. It's soft and stretchy, but..." I sigh, pinching the hem between my stubby fingers, tilting my head at my reflection, "Does it even look good on me?" I quietly worry, not used to wearing dresses at all, especially short ones.
The satin dress accentuates my mild curves and I feel like every dip and bump of my skin is visible, but I'm probably overthinking it.
Lola sighs, approaching me and wrapping an arm around my waist, leaning her head on mine as she admires the pair of us in the mirror.
"Ezra, you look really pretty," she says, with such a sense of confidence in her tone, "I'm not just saying that because you're my favourite person in the world. I'm saying it because it's true— and plus, you know I'd tell you if you looked like shit."
Lola flashes her cheesiest grin in the mirror and I scoff out a chuckle, shaking my head because I know that last part is true.
"Thanks Lo," I whisper, leaning into her more, "You look great too."
She does, she looks lovely. She's wearing a tight, black mini dress with a pair of white Doc Marten's on her feet. Her straightened hair is flowing graciously down her back and she rocks a red lip.
The dress I wear, which Lola has given to me for the night, is paired with my favourite pair of boots. They're flat, with thick platforms and I actually feel averagely tall tonight. They're black, a faux leather, and my mother gifted them to me last Christmas.
"Okay, I better do something to this face of mine and sort out my hair to make sure we even get into the bar tonight," I giggle, actually half excited to go out for once considering Lola really has fed my ego to its highest height.
The bar we're going to is over 21s, but my outrageous friends have decided that we'll be welcomed with open arms. Of course, I feel like I don't have much of a say in the matter so once the idea was initiated, I stayed quiet whilst thinking of backup plans.
Lola tells me she'll come to my dorm once she figures out which jacket to wear, so I bid her goodbye for now and walk a few doors down to my own room. Once inside, I settle myself on the large window sill, my mirror which I usually keep in the bathroom in front of me. I use my minimal makeup collection to attempt to make my face look slightly prettier, and when it comes to lips, I decide that a lip oil will suffice.
I tidy my room a bit and spray some of my new perfume before sitting at my desk with said mirror, pondering what to do with my hair. I have very few hair products, but I use what I can to secure a slicked back bun low on my head. I wear a butterfly necklace, one that Oliver bought me years ago, and some dainty hoops in my ears. My rings are never taken off.
Just as I'm sifting through my clothing rail to find a suitable jacket, my door swings open and my four friends pile inside.
"Ezra Theo!" Leo greets me, wrapping an arm around my torso and landing a wet kiss on my temple.
"Ew, Leo," I grumble, "I just did my makeup." I cringe at the saliva he left behind, using the back of my hand to carefully wipe it off.
"And you look so wonderful, dear," Ollie interjects, pulling a bottle of tequila out from where he was hiding it behind his back, "But now... what time is it Milo?" he looks to our dark haired friend, awaiting an answer.
"Ten past—"
"Wrong!" Ollie chimes and we all look at him with bored expressions. He shuffles around in his jacket pockets for something, revealing five plastic shot glasses. "It's tequila time!"
Milo and I share a groan, while Lola and Leo grab a shot glass each. Nevertheless, Ollie pours us a shot each and we all knock one back, then somehow Ollie convinces us to have another, so we do.
Afterwards, we leave our student accommodation in a haste, eagerly catching the tube into central London. I realise on the way there that I forgot to grab a jacket, and pray that it won't get too cold tonight.
After scurrying around the streets of London for a bit, we eventually locate the bar in question.
"Okay, ladies," Lola claps her hands together, spinning on her heels to face us, "Fix your posture, feed your ego, and act 21."
She turns around, leading the way to the front door of the bar as Ollie and I look at eachother with a funny expression. We follow her anyway, and I subconsciously do as she says and stand up straighter. I watch as she smiles at the security man, and he makes conversation with her. He allows her to enter with ease, not even asking for ID. The same goes for Milo, then Leo, then Ollie.
I nervously stand up to face the security guy, and he eyes me up and down.
"ID?" he huffs.
I frown, "What? But, you just—"
"She's with me," a voice interjects; gruff and rasped wonderfully yet twinging with a familiar softness.
I freeze, looking over my shoulder and finding Luke standing there, flashing his ID and ushering me inside with a hand on my lower back.
Upon entering, I find Ollie and Leo waiting for me. They each shoot me a confused look, seeing Hemmings with his hand on me. I bite my lip, giving off a slight shrug and subtly nodding towards the direction Lola and Milo headed, silently encouraging them to follow. They seem to understand, and they reluctantly walk away with a wary eye on Luke and I.
"You shouldn't even be here, Ezra," Luke's deep voice sends shivers down my spine and I wouldn't be surprised if he could feel my skin tingle with his hand on my back.
He turns me around, pressing me up against a wall with a hand by my head and his other still against my back. My eyes widen and I melt as I look up at him. Even under the dim, tinted lighting of this bustling bar, he looks fantastic. Curls somewhat slicked back, stubble trimmed to perfection. He's wearing black, almost wide leg, trousers and a white tank top. A leather jacket with lovely red piping looks wonderful with his outfit, and he wears his rugged Converse underneath. I almost drool at the silver chains hanging from his thick neck.
And he looks fucking beautiful.
"If I'm not losing my mind," he speaks again, tone dripping with a certain rasp that makes my knees weak, "You're only 18, little one."
I gulp, "Then... then why did you...?" I trail off, wondering why he assisted me in getting inside if he's so concerned about my age.
Luke licks his lips, glancing over his shoulder before back at me. His eyes are fierce, a bright blue that is clouded with emotion but somehow clear.
"I couldn't have you walking around central at 10pm on your own, could I?" he teases, slowly dragging his hand from its place on my back to my waist. He gives me a little squeeze before dropping contact completely.
My heart unwillingly sinks.
"What are you doing here?" I ask quietly, maybe too quietly, because Luke has to tilt his head and lean closer for me to repeat myself. "Why are you here?" I repeat, louder.
Luke chuckles, stubble grazing face as he ducks further down and whispers in my ear, "First of all, I'm 22, darling," he rasps, pulling back and smirking at my clearly flustered state, "And I'm meeting a friend. Speaking of which, you should find yours."
I have to pause to catch my breath, for his presence and aroma and pretty much everything about him drives me insane. Then, I slowly nod my head, looking up at him. Forget what I said earlier about feeling tall, this man makes me feel minuscule.
"Okay," I obey him, like I always fucking do because how could I go against his word?
"Good girl," he grins and I find myself pressing my thighs closer together.
Luke walks off, looking at me over his broad shoulder before disappearing into the crowd. I exhale deeply, shutting my eyes briefly and regulating my heartbeat.
While walking around the corner to find my friends, I so desperately want to grab Luke and drag him outside to ask him what the fuck happened to his face. I think he has used some sort of product to try and cover up a few injuries, but I caught sight of them immediately. A large purple bruise on his jaw, a cut by his eyebrow and one on his lower lip, and another smaller bruise on his cheekbone. He's attempted to hide them, I can tell, but I could see them.
The only thing that prevented me from asking him in the moment, was his reaction to when I had asked what happened to his hand at the flower shop a few weeks ago. I should've let my curiosity get the best of me and just asked him— but isn't that rude?
I soon spy my little group sitting around a table, drinks already gathered on the wood. I smile as I approach them, noticing how Ollie has his palm covering the glass my cider resides in. He's talking to everyone else, but he's also keeping an eye on my drink.
I slide in beside him on the leather couch, "Thanks Ollz," I say to him, tapping his hand and grabbing my drink to take a large gulp.
"Um... what the fuck?" Leo incredulously says, furrowing his eyebrows.
I innocently sip my drink again, "What?"
Lola laughs, "Ez, what the fuck was that?" she points to the area I just came from and I blush.
I shrug, "Nothing."
"Nothing?" Ollie chuckles, shaking his head, "That was not nothing. Hemmings looked pretty fucking comfortable to be touching you."
"He was touching you?!" Lola squeals, eyes bright and wide and a toothy grin plastered on her face.
"God no!" I splutter, shaking my head to rid myself of thoughts of Luke actually touching me. "I... I just thanked him for helping me get into the bar. Security ID'd me," I explain, not fully lying.
"Mmhmm," Milo interrupts, "Thanked him how? We like details, Greystone."
He grins and I frown, muttering a quick, "Fuck off."
"Oh come on, Ezra," Leo sighs, "Ever since you walked away from him wearing the clothes that he gave you, it's been different."
"Leo!" I yell, furiously blushing because the rest of our friends didn't know about that until... well, now.
Leo caught me sneaking into my room the evening Luke dropped me home. He wondered why the clothes I had on were so large, then asked where I had been. I'm terrible at lying, so after plenty of stutters and broken explanations, Leo caught on. And he laughed a lot, then hugged me and congratulated me on "screwing my English prof", to which I immediately corrected him.
I am not 'screwing' my English professor.
"What?!" Ollie and Lola borderline scream simultaneously.
Milo almost chokes on his beer.
"Oh my god," I groan, shoving my face in my hands anxiously.
"They would've found that out sooner or later," Leo reasons, and to be honest he's probably right.
"Oh my god!" Lola squeals, again, "Is that why he kept you back after class on Tuesday? I knew your sweatshirt looked unfamiliar!"
I groan again, shaking my head as Leo, Milo and Lola indulge in a conversation which centres around my bravery, potential sex life, and the gorgeous man who teaches me third level English.
Ollie nudges me with his elbow, "Don't be so upset, Ezra, you know they're just messing. They're curious— ignore them."
I sigh, letting my hands fall to my lap as I avoid eye contact with anybody. I lean into Ollie, head on his bicep before he changes that by wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
"You know, Ez, it's okay to like someone, to be attracted to someone," he says softly in my ear, "Don't feel ashamed for that. I think your little infatuation you've got going on is quite adorable actually, and no doubt is it absolutely reciprocated."
I exhale, sinking further into his hold, "It isn't reciprocated," I mutter, convincing myself that there's no way Luke could feel the way for me as I do for him.
He makes me weak. He actually makes me feel like a puddle after a rainstorm, and my heart beats erratically around him. It's so stupid, he's my lecturer, but I can't help these thoughts that wriggle into my mind daily. Not to mention the fact that I've slept in his sweatshirt three nights in a row now.
Ollie scoffs, chuckling, "Are you joking? Have you seen the way he looks at you?"
I find a smile crawling upon my lips, hyper-aware of what he's talking about. I have seen the way Luke looks at me, and it's encapsulating. It isn't hard to notice how his eyes soften when they meet mine, or how his posture straightens and that damn smirk he wears all the time around me.
I sigh, "Yeah," I whisper, even though Ollie probably cannot hear me due to the music surrounding us, "I think I have."
——
a/n;
.... that leather jacket omg
he's so hot fml
anywayyysssss love u <3