Page 27 of Now Their Starlet

“Thanks,” Ezra nods before reaching out and tugging my chair closer to his. It slides along the carpeted floors smoothly.

“The hell are you doing?” I hiss under my breath.

“Trying to buy us time, dumbass. Don’t look at me like that. You looked like you were gonna fuckin’ throw up all over the table if they’d pushed us to leave right then and there,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

An angry sarcastic quip is on the tip of my tongue, but it stays there as I blink at him.

“What was with you acting all possessive?” I ask, my voice coming out small and uncertain. “I already told you⁠—”

“I get it,” he says with a sigh, his gaze jerking over my shoulder to where I know Stuart and Carter are probably watching our interaction. “But your mom seems to have a fuckin’ hard-on for us getting back together. Stuart actually agreeing to let us stay a bit longer confirms to me that he’s probably been instructed to do shit to support that. I know we’re over, okay? I’m just—” he runs his hand through his wild red hair, “—if pretending I want more is what gets you to stop looking like you’re dyin’ inside, then of course I’m gonna pretend.”

“Okay,” I murmur softly, clasping my hands nervously in my lap. “As long as it’s pretend. I have⁠—”

“A pack. I know,” Ezra sighs, running a hand through his gelled-up hair. “How about you tell me ‘bout ‘em?”

“You really want to know?” I ask, blinking in shock. My lips quirk up as I think about my guys.

“Yeah,” Ezra says, his voice going soft. “How many of ‘em are there? I assume that male omega’s thrown into the mix.”

“Beck? Yeah,” I nod. I mull over his question, trying to figure out a solid number.

“What’s that hesitation for?”

“Oh, well, I know for sure there’re four,” I say, my brows drawing down.

Memories of Cameron flash in my mind—him directing the interviews and the shots when we were back in Beck’s hometown, him complimenting my suggestions, his somber agreement that if my dad was an asshole, he’d leave with me even though he idolizes my dad’s work.

Shit, maybe this solitary confinement is messing with my head even more than I thought, if I’m starting to think I have a crush on the guy who cornered me outside of a club bathroom to blackmail one of my boyfriends into an interview.

“Know for sure?” Ezra says with a huff. “So there’re options you don’t know for sure?”

“Sorta... Maybe option. Definitely not options plural.”

“Okay. So, four. But maybe five. Pretty big pack, if you ask me. Not surprising, though. You’re dope.”

“Dope, huh?” I let out a quiet, undignified snort that Gina would probably throw a hissy fit over if she knew I made a sound like that in public. “Good to know I have glowing reviews.”

“Dope is the highest form of compliment, what do you mean?” Ezra shoots back with an eye-roll of his own. “So the male omega, I’ve been seeing you guys all cozied up, but who are the other guys?”

“I met them through Beck.” I can’t help the fond smile that appears on my lips at the thought of how I met each of the guys. “There’s a beta, Leo, he’s Beck’s publicist and childhood friend, then there’s Eli, who’s also Beck’s childhood friend and manager.”

“Tight circle,” Ezra grunts. “Must be nice.”

“Yeah,” I nod. I think Ezra and I both understand what it’s like being surrounded by teams full of people that don’t actually give a shit about us. “Real nice. I was honestly a little jealous of Beck when we first met. He had so many people in his corner.” Sounds like you have them in yours too, if you guys are all packed up.”

Ezra’s words stop me in my tracks. I want to say yes; I want to hope that the guys are doing whatever they can to get me help, but what can they really do, legally? And once they realize they can’t do much, what other options do they have other than continuing to move forward and live their lives?

“Had,” I mumble, blinking to try to ease the burn I feel behind my eyes.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry.

Ezra’s fingertips begin tapping on his thigh, and I watch the movements, taking a deep, steadying breath to the rhythm.

With brute force and willpower I didn’t know I still possessed, I shove the threat of tears down. Gina would probably start throwing shit if there is any photographic evidence of my tears fucking with my makeup tonight. Hopefully she wouldn’t throw herself down any more stairs... but you never know with her.

“I dunno,” Ezra says slowly. “Maybe they’re still tryin’ to figure out a way to help you. I can’t imagine these guys getting to know you and not doing everything in their power to help.” He says the words so earnestly that they stop me in my tracks. I think I believe him. Because if Ezra Fletcher and all his self-centered, spoiled, douchebaggery seems to be genuinely trying to help me, why wouldn’t all my guys be trying too?

“Yeah, maybe... I hope so,” I say, swallowing hard past the lump in my throat.