I pause, then pour my cold tea into the sink, turn on the tap, refill the kettle, turn it back on.
All the while, Kacey stares at me and Ezekial waits.
“Well, I guess I’ll see tomorrow,” I eventually reply. “I’ll give you back to Kacey—”
“Wait, please.” I could ignore him, hang up. But I can’t ignore the small part of me that wants to hear him, that relishes in the way he says ‘please’, so… desperately. “Are you still in pain?”
Do I tell him the truth?
I weigh up my options as the kettle comes to a boil. Kacey launches into action, grabbing both our mugs but keeping her gaze fixed on me.
I sigh. “You expect me to tell you the truth?”
“I don’t care, say anything—lie to me, insult me, tell me you hate me, just… talk to me a little longer. Please.”
I should have walked away.
I have to lower the phone because a new emotion seeps into my bones and my heart pounds.
“I feel fine, Ezekial.” I cringe, why the fuck did I say his name? I don’t want to make him feel better, I don’t want to please him, but I say it anyway.
“How fine? Sai-winding-up-Kane fine, or Kane-losing-his-shit fine?”
Why does he have to be funny?
I move the phone away, biting down my laugh. He’s not hearing that, no fucking way. I don’t dare look at Kacey because I bet she’s appearing all types of smug.
“I like how you didn’t throw yourself or Julien into the mix.”
“If you were Julien’s type of fine, you wouldn’t really be fine but would pretend you were. And me, well, I think we all know I’m only ever one bad comment away from being put into the Pit ‘fine’.”
This shouldn’t be funny. Saying these things shouldn’t make my chest feel lighter than it had in… a while. But it does.
“What if I’m Ezekial ‘fine’? Would you put me in the Pit?”
I hear his sharp intake of breath, and I smirk cruelly. Kacey sips her newly brewed tea, intensely staring.
“Never. Even if you asked.”
“What if I begged?” Why did I say that? Why the fuck did I—
“I’d persuade you to beg for something else.” The rasp of his voice makes it incredibly clear I’ve turned this into something I shouldn’t have. Something I should regret and not be enjoying whatsoever.
After a pause that’s too long, I decide I’ve given him enough of my time.
That’s it.
It has nothing to do with imagining how persuasive Ezekial could be with his large broad shoulders, and those biceps that bulge, and those mismatched moonlight eyes—always darker when he’s close to losing control...
“Goodnight, Ezekial.”
He says something, but I’m already passing the phone to Kacey.
I could stay, let myself hear the soft rumbling of his voice even if I can’t catch the words, but I’ve given in to my desires enough. I’ve sated some of it… for now.
Chapter 7: Jasmine
For the first time in days, I slept.
