There was a weighted silence as his words hung in the air, effectively piquing everyone’s curiosity and ripping me wide open.
I heard Molly whisper a forced, “Ezra, drop it.” But other than that, nobody spoke for a long time.
Shoving my dishes beneath the faucet and letting them clatter in the sink, I wrenched the faucet on and wished Ezra’s apartment had more privacy.
Taking a deep breath, I knew I had to say something. I couldn’t just let the morning end like this. Besides, it was six years ago.
Six whole years.
I should be better at this by now.
Why wasn’t I better at this?
Popping back into the open dining room, I plastered on a fake smile and looked at my friends sitting in tense silence.
“I used to be wild,” I told them in an obvious sort of way. “I know that surprises all of you, but I lived out my college years… well, like I was in college. I drank too much. I partied too much. I did a lot of things that were too much. But I’m better now. I grew out of it. There’s nothing to worry about anymore.”
It was clear that Ezra didn’t fully believe my quick attitude change and pacifying smile, but after the hell I’d put him through during my early-twenties, I knew he might never truly trust that I was all the way okay ever again.
And he didn’t even know the worst of it.
Kaya waved me off. “I had no idea you liked to drink. I guess we can finally be best friends. I was waiting for you to become a borderline alcoholic. And now I have the final piece of the puzzle.”
I smiled at her candidness, feeling marginally better.
Molly laughed too and said, “The first time I ever met Dillon, she told me ‘parties were like her thing.’ It’s important to know your strengths.”
I smiled a little wider, but the pressure in my chest was still suffocating. Sweat broke out on the back of my neck and I felt unwanted hands crawl up my legs.
“I’m going to go,” I nearly shouted, desperate for some peace and quiet. “Thanks for brunch, Molls. I’ll, uh, call you later.” I took three steps backward. “You too, Kaya. Bye, Wyatt. Ezra.” I reluctantly looked at the big old elephant in the room and briefly met his eyes before grabbing my purse off a stool and pretending to search for my keys. “Vann. Bye, everyone.”
I escaped their calls of goodbye and practically sprinted from the building. I wasn’t usually this jumpy when someone brought up my past, but the combined presence of Ezra and Vann made shit too real for ten a.m.
“Dillon!”
Apparently, my quick exit, Wile E. Coyote style, wasn’t enough of a message for Vann. I glanced over my shoulder to find him chasing after me. And damn, his eyebrows were scrunched together. He had something to say too.
I waved at him, my keys gripped tightly in my hands. “Oh, hey. Sorry, I need to get to work. We haven’t switched over to brunch yet, so I have a lot of prep that still has to happen.”
He jogged faster. “Hey, stop for a minute.”
My door unlocked and if I wouldn’t have hesitated like a fool, I could have totally thrown my body across the driver’s seat and locked the doors before he caught up to me.
But he was running. In that t-shirt and sweatpants. And damn it, I got distracted.
His fingers wrapped around the top of my doorframe, holding it open. “Hey, would you slow down?”
I shook my head. No. No, I would not. “I really have to go.”
“So, you’re like a runner?”
I blinked at him, trying to make sense of his words. “Usually, I’m a yoga-er. But I’ve been looking to get a little more in shape. Hence the spin class.”
He smiled. It was blinding in the morning light. Breathtaking. Nerve-racking. Life changing. “That’s not what I meant. You run. You have one-night stands because you don’t want commitment.”
I frowned. He was not going to figure me out this morning. Especially when he was only working with partial information. Not after the shit he’d just put me through upstairs. “No, I don’t have time for commitment. I work every night. And all day. And basically, all of the minutes of my life. I have time for one-night stands.” Those violent hands started to inch up over my bare legs again. I kicked one foot out, shaking my leg just to get the haunting sensation to stop. “And I just don’t… I don’t have one-night stands either. Like ever.” Remembering Ezra’s tell-all novel upstairs, I was forced to amend. “Anymore anyway. Once upon a time maybe, but that stopped.”
“Six years ago?”
