For once, the assigned English reading isn't boring or too difficult for me to understand.
I sit on the living room couch with my copy of The Great Gatsby propped up in my lap. Dad is with my brother at batting practice, leaving me home alone. Me and Honey.
Honey is curled up on the floor just below me. I've grown quite fond of the golden retriever, actually. He's not too loud or messy and he's got quite a nice face.
My reading gets interrupted when someone unlocks the door. Excitement buzzes through me at the prospect of Ezra walking through that door. We haven't spoken much since I picked him up from homecoming. I think he's still embarrassed about me having to pick him up, but at least he's not avoiding me completely. We still make small talk in AP Biology and he helped me with the Trig assignment yesterday.
I put a bookmark on the page that I'm on before setting it down beside me.
A moment later, the door opens. I turn around and feel my happiness begin to deflate.
Instead of Ezra walking next to Lucas, it's a girl. They're holding hands, quietly talking. And then they disappear upstairs. That happens quite often–him bringing girls home to hangout with–so I just ignore it.
I follow my dad into the kitchen. "What's for dinner?"
"Sesame noodles with chicken," he replies. "Do you want to cut the chicken for me?" He phrases it as a question, but I know that's his way of telling me to do it.
"Sure," I reply.
Dad pulls his phone out, connecting it to the speaker that sits on the kitchen island. A song by Linkin Park begins quietly playing before he starts pulling ingredients out from the fridge and pantry.
Once he's working on the noodles and I'm cutting the chicken, I finally build up the courage to ask him, "So, where's Ezra?"
"Said he wanted to shower first, but I think he just doesn't want to third-wheel Charlotte and Lucas."
Charlotte. That's a pretty name. From the quick second I saw her walk in, she seemed sweet. That's probably due to the way she was smiling and her soft features.
"Do you think I..." I clear my throat, suddenly nervous. "Maybe I can take Ezra some dinner?"
My dad glances over at me with a raised eyebrow. "I mean, if you really want to, sure."
I nod before quickly adding, "Just so he doesn't feel left out."
He narrows his eyes at me with a knowing smile. "Right...yeah."
I'm quick to return to the task at hand. I'm not sure if adding that last part made him suspicious–not that there's anything to be suspicious about–but I'm just going to hope it didn't.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Instead of eating dinner at home, I put our meal in two bowls with tin foil covering the tops and grab two Capri Suns for good measure.
My dad has to open the fence for me since my hands are full. "Love you, kid," he says as I step onto the sidewalk.
"Love you, Dad."
Once I cross the street and walk up the front steps, I realize that there's a problem. I have no free hands to knock on the door.
Maybe I could kick it?
No, that's stupid. Who kicks doors?
Actually, Ezra did that one time.
I huff out a breath before deciding to just set one of the bowls on the ground. My heart beats rapidly through my chest as I bring my fist up and knock. Another deep breath before picking up the bowl again.
A moment later, the door opens revealing none other than a stranger. I completely forgot that Ezra doesn't live alone–just like most other minors.
The suit-clad man in front of me looks quite similar to Ezra, the main differences being the age etched into his faint wrinkles, and the rough edge to his features. This man does not have an approachable face.
"Yes?" He asks, raising a dark eyebrow.
"Hi," I say, expelling another deep breath. "Um, I'm...I'm Indi Myles. I live across the street." My mind goes blank as I point behind me.
His features relax with what looks like realization and relief floods through my body. "Ah, the infamous Indigo. I've heard about you."
I'm sure he just means he knows me because of my dad. Right?
"I'm Ezra's father." Mr. Clancy opens the door wider. "Come in."
"Oh! Um, I don't want to...intrude. I was just seeing if Ezra was, uh, home right now."
His eyes drop to the bowls in my hands, making me realize how contradictory I probably seem. "I'll go get him."
He leaves the door open before disappearing into the house.
I look down at the bowls in my hands, trying to gain some composure. I'm not sure why I'm so nervous, but I blame it on the jitters of being at my friend's house for the first time.
Ezra soon steps into view, wearing a dark blue hoodie, black sweatpants, and a look of surprise on his face. He raises his eyebrows slightly and looks down at the bowls in my hands.
"Hi," I breathe the word out then silently kick myself for sounding so stupid.
"Hey," he says slowly. "What are you doing here?"
My shoulders pull up into a shrug. "You weren't at dinner so...I thought I'd, um, bring you some?" I give him a sheepish smile.
My stomach flips when his lips pull into a grin and he welcomes me into his house. "Come in."
I follow behind him as he leads me into a dining room. It's an open floor plan so I can see the kitchen and living room as I sit down. The house is nice, but it just lacks life. It doesn't have the home element that I'm used to.
There's no pictures, hardly any decorations, and a grayscale color palette.
"I'll go get forks," he says once I sit down.
Mr. Clancy has probably gone off to his room since he's nowhere to be seen, so once again, I'm left alone in silence. It doesn't take long for Ezra to come back with forks as he said he would.
He sets one down in front of me before taking the seat across from me. I slide a bowl over to him and try to think of a way to break the silence.
And then I remember the Capri Suns.
Ezra smiles when he sees me set them on the table. "You brought more?"
I nod and slide one of the silver packets to him. "You don't have to drink it, though."
Anxiety flickers in his eyes and contradicts his smile, but it disappears as he grabs it from me. "No, it's...If I get thirsty I'll drink it."
My eyebrows knit together in concern, but I don't get the chance to bring that concern up.
"So, how have you been?" Ezra asks, taking the foil off his bowl and I do the same.
"What do you mean?"
One of his shoulders lifts into a shrug. "Just in general. I don't want to overstep, but you've just seemed kind of off recently."
"Didn't realize you were watching me so closely," I attempt deflecting with a smile.
Talking about your feelings is so important and I encourage all of my friends to do it, but that doesn't mean I want to. When my stress gets like it has been recently, it gets even harder to open up. I always end up crying, even if talking about a small mishap in my day.
"You went for a run at three in the morning." Our eyes remain connected in silence before he continues, "I just want to make sure you're okay. That's all."
Confusion surges through my furrowed brows. "Why?"
"Because we're friends," he states plainly. "And I care about you."
I'm not sure why my attention lingers on that word. Friends. An odd, indescribable feeling wraps around me. It's vaguely melancholic, but he's right. We are friends.
Is there a part of me that wants more with him?
Subconsciously, my eyes sweep over his pretty face and I picture us together; holding hands, going on dates, sleeping in beds together, the whole shebang. My heart skips a beat.
Wait, no. I stop myself from imagining that, but it's a little too late to take it back.
It was just a momentary lapse in judgment, I assure myself. We'll never end up together even if I wanted–which I don't.
"So are you?" Ezra asks again.
I startle out of my thoughts. "Yeah, I'm...I'm good. Just Junior year."
He narrows his eyes at me. "If you need anything from me all you have to do is ask. You know that, right?"
I know a few things he can help me with.
I suck in a breath and quickly brush that intrusive thought aside with a calm smile on my face. "Thank you."
"What did you say was in this food?" He changes the subject and begins using his fork to push around the pasta in his bowl.
"Why do you ask?"
"I have a diet to stick to." He says it so calmly that not many would suspect the tension in his face as he inspects the food.
I let out a quiet sigh. "You've had this before, right? It's the sesame stuff."
His face softens with realization. "Oh, yeah. Just, give me a moment. I have to log it in my app." He pulls his phone from a pocket in his sweatpants and starts typing.
Once he sets it down, I try to build up the courage to say something about it. "You know it's okay to not always stress about food, right?" I make sure to keep my tone light so that he doesn't feel attacked. "It can be something you enjoy too."
"I don't stress about food," he replies, instantly getting defensive–I know better than to mistake that tone in his voice for anger.
"Ezra," I say, my gentle tone gets him to look up at me. "I care about you too, you know. And I know what being nervous looks like."
"I don't get nervous about food." He sets his fork down. "What are you implying?"
Anxiety courses through my entire body. I should've done research or something before bringing it up, it just seemed like the right time. "Nothing," I quickly say. "I guess I was, um, wrong."
"Okay." His demeanor wipes of all its anxiety once he asks, "What do you think of Gatsby so far?"
I sigh before I begin to speak.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
We get to a point where neither of us are eating anymore, but our conversation continues. I don't understand how either of us can listen to each other talk for such extensive periods of time when he talks about things I typically don't care about and vice versa, but I have no complaints. I can listen to him passionately talk about baseball and his future career all day.
When I take a peek at the window behind me, I realize that the skies are slowly becoming dark. One glance at my phone tells me it's almost seven which means I've been here for around forty-five minutes. If I had a choice, I'd let this last all night. I enjoy being around him.
Unfortunately I can't, so I find an opening when Ezra stops talking about the paper he has to write for AP Psych.
"I should probably go," I say. I've somehow managed to forget about my mom coming into town in just a few days, but fresh stress rings through me once I remember. "I have to clean."
"You have to clean?" His voice is filled with suspicion.
"My mom is coming to Seattle this weekend." I tell him so he doesn't think I'm lying. "She has...expectations for how the house should look when she visits."
He looks away for a moment, lost in thought.
"What is it?" I ask. When he meets my gaze, my heart skips a beat for whatever reason that is.
There's an almost doe-eyed look on his face when he replies. "I'd help clean if you–I don't know–wanted to stay for a little bit."
My eyebrows shoot up my forehead. "Do you want me to?"
A very subtle grin pulls at his lips. "I mean...if that's what you want."
I'm silent for a moment before replying, "Okay, but only if you really do help me clean tomorrow."
"Deal." He holds his hand over the table and I take it with reluctance. I don't know what I was expecting, but he gives me a curt shake before standing up. My lips hang slightly open because what am I supposed to say when there are chills racing across my arm right now? It's a little pathetic that I go into shock anytime him and I make physical contact.
"Were you going to keep the food or should I just throw it out?" he asks, pulling me out of my temporary trance.
"You can just throw it away." My dad isn't a leftovers kind of guy which naturally transferred to me as well. It's not like I'm going to go back for this food when we already have enough at home.
He takes both of our bowls into the kitchen and I can't help but watch as he dumps the excess noodles into the trash before cleaning the bowls out with soap and a sponge.
"Do you wanna maybe watch a movie?" Ezra turns around once the sink is shut off. He leaves our dishes on the counter, presumably to let them dry.
I look over at the living room then back at him. "You don't have a TV," I point out.
The living room is just one couch facing a fireplace with standing pots of plants on either side of it.
"I'm not sure if my memory is just hazy, but you were in my bedroom, correct?" he asks, sarcasm coating his voice.
Unsure of whether he's joking or not, I feel my smile falter. "Your bedroom?"
"I'm not trying to get into your pants, Indigo."
One moment I'm confused, the next my face is rapidly gaining warmth and I'm sucking in a breath. "That's not– No, I'm just– I didn't think you were insinuating that. That's...it's fine. The, uh, bedroom, I mean...it works. For watching a movie."
He blinks a few times, his face filled with amusement before he gestures a hand towards one of the archways. "Then let's go."
I follow him through his house. It doesn't take long before he pushes the door open to his room. The lights around his roof are bright white and I spot Katniss curled up in his full-size bed.
A familiar Spiderman blanket looks out of place among the otherwise plain dark gray sheets and covers.
"Spiderman, huh?" I ask.
"Yeah. My mom got it for me when I was a baby." He sits far back on the bed, where his head touches the wall. "Before you sit, will you grab the remotes? They're on my desk."
I look at his desk which is to the side of his bed. The wood is black and the surface is a little messy. There's multiple notebooks and unorganized pens that surround his laptop. Off to the side, I spot the remote for his lights and for his TV. I grab both before tossing them onto the bed then standing awkwardly by his desk.
"Indigo." Ezra catches my attention. "You can sit down."
I let out a shaky breath and slowly nod. "Right, so I'll just..." I take a step towards his mattress. It's not that serious yet I'm still slightly scared as I approach his bed like it's a tiger in the woods.
"Indigooo." He says. "I promise I'm not going to hurt you."
"I know!" I exclaim. "I'm sorry it's just...nevermind." I step out of my shoes before sitting on the edge of his bed, careful to not crush Katniss.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?" he asks sincerely.
My heart is racing at extreme speeds, but no, I'm not uncomfortable. I just keep picturing how this night could end if I move any closer to you. Haha! What?
Wiping the thought away, I turn around and shake my head. "Nope."
"You can sit back here with me, you know." He flashes a soft grin, letting his head fall to his shoulder. Him and his handsome–approachable–face are going to be the death of me. "If you want to."
After letting out a deep breath, I scoot backwards until my body softly hits the wall.
He changes the lights to a dark blue and dims them just a little bit. "Alright, what do you want to watch?"
I shrug. "You're the one who invited me."
"Alright." He grabs the remote that controls his TV and opens Hulu. "I saw this one movie the other day. It sounded like one of the books you were talking about back in Atlanta."
"You remember Atlanta?" I turn to look at him, suddenly struck by the realization of how close we are. My shoulders are just an inch away from his and if I leaned in just a little...
Indi. Get yourself under control.
Where are all these weird thoughts coming from? Am I ovulating or something?
Ezra is frowning when he turns his head to meet my eyes. "Of course I remember." He says it like I shouldn't have asked in the first place. Like it's obvious that he remembers our night in Atlanta like I do.
My eyes scan his face for some kind of clue that he's lying. I linger on his lips for a beat longer than necessary before turning back to the TV. "Oh," is all that I can manage to say.
"It's this one," he says as he clicks on a movie.
The Hating Game.
"I've heard of the book before," I say. "But I haven't read it. We should watch it, though. That's the girl from Pretty Little Liars."
"Wait..." he starts. "Is she the one that plays Aria?"
We turn to look at each other at the same time and once again, I'm aware of how close we are.
"How did you know?" I ask, trying to not let my nerves show.
"My mom used to watch it all the time." His smile dims, but he turns back to the TV, starting the movie before I get the chance to say anything else.
I really want to ask about his mom–why he gets all weird when he talks about her and why she's never around–but he obviously doesn't want to talk about it. That's something I can understand completely.
A couple of minutes have gone by when I get a text notification. I pull my cell phone out of one of my jeans' pockets and open the message.
Raina Bridges: [MP4.4290]
Raina Bridges: do u need a stepmom or sister in law perchance?
I confusedly stare at the text, before clicking the video.
My volume happens to be all the way up when the very explicit song begins playing. I quickly turn the sound down and mutter an apology to Ezra.
An edit of my dad fills my screen. Clips of him in his short lived modeling career are stitched together which then transition into clips of my brother's borderline thirst traps.
I swipe out of the video before it can finish playing.
Me: Why on EARTH would you send that to me?!?!?!
Me: I have to go swallow bleach now thank you very much.
And since I'm reminded of my father I shoot him a text too about something unrelated. My message to him reads, Helping Ezra with a paper he's writing. Be back after.
I feel a little guilty lying, but I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea.
When I put my phone down and see what's beside me, it feels like I'm overdosing on dopamine.
Katniss is curled up on Ezra's lap and he absently runs his hand across her body. It's so adorable that I feel like I'm about to combust.
"Enjoying the movie?" Mirth shines through Ezra's voice as he asks the question.
"Yep," I exclaim with a little too much enthusiasm as I turn back to the TV. "Very good so far."
His deep chuckles embarrass me as much as they please me. That sound is seriously so addicting for a reason that I'm still not sure about.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
"That just isn't true," I say, shaking my head.
"All country music is bad and you can't convince me otherwise." Ezra lets out a soft laugh as he runs his hand over Katniss's head.
I'm not sure how we got so off track and I have no idea what's happening in the movie nor what led to this conversation.
"You can't knock a whole style of music as if you've heard every single song from it." I'm not a country fan by any means, but I do think there are some good songs from the genre.
"I can and I am." Before I can say anything else he adds, "Name one artist who can prove my point wrong."
"Taylor Swift."
He raises an eyebrow. "Her country music is more like pop with country elements."
"Not for her first album," I say. "You seriously don't think Should've Said No is any good?" When he shakes his head I continue, "Our Song? Teardrops On My Guitar?"
"That last one might be the only exception." When he pulls his hand back from Katniss for just a second, the cat paws at him, gesturing she wants him to continue petting her.
I blow out a quiet breath, trying to prevent my heart from exploding at the sight of him and his cat. "How about Before He Cheats? That's Carrie Underwood, but still. And what about Shania Twain?"
"Okay, so maybe there's a few exceptions."
"Ha! I was right." Narrowing my eyes, I point at him. "You were probably thinking of the male artists since that's mainly what they play on the radio, but everyone knows female artists are typically better."
He watches me with a grin and–bless my soul–I accidentally look at his lips. When I snap my eyes back to his, I realize he's doing the same thing. His gaze lingers on my mouth.
Our attentions simultaneously snap back to the TV when the main girl lets out a sigh. I furrow my eyebrows, trying to understand what's happening, but then her co-worker gets in bed beside her and my eyes widen.
"I'm gonna work you so–"
The screen pauses and I realize that Ezra is holding the remote to the television. Can someone tell me why my heart is beating so fast right now?
We look at each other again, but he doesn't seem nearly as shocked as I do.
"I should probably go home." I abruptly get off the bed after grabbing my phone. "My dad's gonna get worried."
Ezra raises an eyebrow, that stupid hint of a smile not wiping off his face. "I knew you got flustered easily, but I didn't realize it was that bad."
"What? No!" He sees right through me. "I just have homework." I take slow steps toward his door.
"At least let me walk you home." He stands up, causing Katniss to scurry onto the floor as well.
"No, it's fine. I'm fine. You're fine." My smile drops and I quickly add on, "I mean, fine as in okay, not as in hot. Well, you are– I mean–" I run a hand along my jaw, trying to get my nerves under control. "If you want to walk me home, then sure, I guess."
He lets out a soft laugh as he opens his closet door.
"What are you doing?" I ask, keeping my voice as steady as possible.
He doesn't reply before reaching into his closet and pulling something off a hanger. A moment later, he's handing a blue hoodie to me.
I feel my face take up a look of exasperation. "It's across the street, Clancy."
"Well, you seem to like the other jacket, so I thought I'd add on to your collection."
My lips part in shock. "That was yours? Why didn't you say anything when I wore it to school?"
He shrugs. "I thought you wore it to keep it."
"Do you want it back?"
He thinks about his answer for a moment before replying, "Not if that means you're wearing it."
I don't get the chance to decipher what that means, because right after the last word leaves his mouth, he tosses the hoodie to me and closes the closet door.
Instead of putting the hoodie on, I just carry it in my arms as I follow him out of the dimly lit house.
"Where's your mom?" I ask, my voice quiet as we step onto the street.
Ezra takes a moment to reply. "Dead," he replies curtly. I look to the side and up at his face, unsure of what to say. He glances down at me and shrugs. "Happened a few years ago. Don't worry about me."
"You always try to play these things off." I look back ahead. "Losing your mom is...it's hard. You don't have to pretend it's not."
He lets out a slow sigh. "You wanna know my favorite thing about you, Indigo? Well, one of them at least."
My words get caught in my throat for a moment. That's an odd subject change, but... "Uh, sure."
"You seem to actually care about me." There's a hint of something sadder beneath the surface of his deep voice. "Instead of pitying me for brownie points, you...you seem to truly want me to be alright."
I'm taken aback once more. Is it not obvious? "Of course I'd want you to be alright."
"I know. That's why your presence is so refreshing to me."
My lips slightly part before I swallow. The next few steps are silent until we get to the gate that surrounds my house.
I stay faced away as I twist the code into the lock, while simultaneously trying to figure out a way to respond to what he's just told me. But I feel him right behind me, which makes thinking a little harder.
Once it's unlocked, I turn around. I'm frozen for a moment, my face just inches away from his, until I remember how to move my mouth and get my vocal chords going. "The feeling flows both ways, Ezra."
I don't miss the way relief seems to crash into his eyes before I turn around and step into the fenced area.
"Goodnight, Indigo," he says to me once I'm a few steps inside.
I turn around with a smile on my face and wave at him. "Night, Clancy!"
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
(An hour and a half later)
Me: Hey, since we were on the topic of Atlanta and jackets and whatnot, I've got a question
Ezra Clancy: Ask away
Me: I had a dream while we were there...and I was wondering if a certain aspect of it was real or not
Ezra Clancy: What happened in this dream?
Me: I need you to promise not to judge or tell anyone, alright?
Ezra Clancy: I promise
Me: There was a guy and he was essentially, for lack of better word, on top of me
Me: WAIT that sounds weird. I mean, he was holding me, I guess
Ezra Clancy: Interesting...
Me: That's all you have to say?
Ezra Clancy: Maybe I could get on top of you? You'll tell me if it feels similar to the man in your dreams?
Me: WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU
Me: MY DAD PAYS THE BILLS FOR THIS PHONE HE CAN SEE THAT
Ezra Clancy: Indigo seems to be turning Red
Ezra Clancy: And the answer to your original curiosity is yes
Me: Yes?
Ezra Clancy: I do remember something similar happening in one of my dreams
Me: Oh