Chapter One
Ezra
Standing in the shadows, the guy looked like he was about to start some trouble. He leaned against the side of the brick building with one leg kicked up against the wall, his gaze cast toward the ground. As I crossed the street and shuffled my way down the block, I thought I saw his head move slightly in my direction, but just as quickly, he crossed his arms and turned away. I could hear heavy music thundering from the bar behind him, and in that weird time of day between afternoon and evening, there was a silver light shining down on us.
When I finished my approach, the man finally turned my way. His jaw was working a slow grind on a toothpick, stuck out between his lips like a splinter, but it was his eyes that caught my attention.
Long eyelashes. Emerald stare. The furrow of a thick, bushy brow.
My throat went dry.
Fuck. He’s even more gorgeous in person.
“What?”
The man said it more like a command than a greeting. I studied the stubble on his jaw as he kept working that toothpick. There were flecks of red in the chestnut hair, and they stood out like shocks against his tanned skin. He couldn’t have been more than thirty years old, only five years older than me, but I still felt like I was staring at someone more powerful than I was.
At someone I was supposed to respect.
Or maybe just fear.
I cleared my throat and skipped a little in place, a nervous habit I had never been able to shake. Gesturing over my shoulder with my thumb, I indicated the comic book store down the street, Northstar. “I work at that place. You ever notice it?”
The man looked up to the store. Its exterior was painted bright purples, greens, and pinks, and there were a few cutouts of superheroes in the window. He turned back to me, squinting down as I tapped my foot erratically, then back to the store.
He nodded.
I felt a thrill building up in my stomach. He was even sexier than he had looked from down the block. The gray, torn jeans he wore hugged his thighs beautifully, and beneath the thin fabric of his white T-shirt, I could see how firm his pecs were.
I could just barely make out the shape of his nipples, too. Two dark, drool-inducing spots that I wanted to worship with my tongue.
Pull it together, Ezra.
I leaned against the brick wall, trying to imitate his pose. “You notice how that shop has been getting messed up the past few weeks? Graffiti? Broken windows?”
The man kept staring.
God damn… those eyes!
“I’m Ezra, by the way,” I said, extending my hand.
He studied it for a second, like I was holding out a moldy sandwich and offering him lunch. When he was done, his eyes roamed across my body, the heat of his gaze landing on my bouncy legs, my colorful T-shirt, and my thick glasses.
Landing on every fucking part of me.
“Yeah, I noticed. What of it? You think I’m wasting my time messing up your building?”
I shook my head quickly and pressed my hand against the brick wall. “No, of course not. I mean, honestly, I hadn’t really thought about it. Why? Are you?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and cocked my head up at him. For a second, I thought he was going to laugh at my pose, a half-smile turning up the corner of his mouth, but he shook his head instead. “I’ve got better things to do.”
Like me?
I bit my tongue. Even though my name was Ezra, when I was growing up, you would have thought it was bigmouth. Or spaz. Those were about the only two ways I was addressed by anyone except for my moms.
It was like I would get a thought in my mind, and then my mouth would share that thought with the world before I had time to think better of it. Unfortunately for me, that meant a lot of jokes about superheroes in the middle of math class, sassy comebacks to the class bully, and clever one-liners that no one else seemed to appreciate.
“Exactly,” I said, allowing myself a little skip to let out some energy. “Better things to do. Like maybe you could keep an eye on the shop for us? I thought we could pay you, considering the fact that you’re hanging out at the bar every night anyway.”
