Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“Fuck.”
15
Raleigh
15 YEARS OLD
The soft sounds of Ezra’s guitar fill the house as I make my way into the kitchen to find him sitting up on the island bench, softly strumming a sweet acoustic melody. “Is that new?” I ask, opening the fridge and pulling out a soda, unable to keep from glancing back over my shoulder and taking in the way his shirt gapes open, showing off the defined pecs beneath.
“Mm-hmm,” he murmurs, tracking my every step across the kitchen with eyes so dark they hold me captive every time I look his way. “I think I’ve almost finished the melody, but I haven’t worked out the lyrics yet.”
My brows furrow. Usually, he works the other way around and fits the music to the lyrics he’d already spent hours slaving over. “Everything good?” I ask, cracking my soda and dropping a straw in the top before taking a sip.
I lean back against the counter, my eyes greedily raking over him. He’s eighteen now, far from the boy I first met two years ago, and while he’s still exactly the same, he’s also so different. He was tall then, but now he towers over me, and when he pulls me into his warm arms, I’ve never felt so protected. His jaw is sharper and his voice even deeper, but the stubble that grows across his jaw brings me to my knees. He’s simply gorgeous.
Ezra Knight is my whole world, and it only gets better every day. However, now that the band is starting to get a little more traction, they’re getting fans, and they’re not just the kind of people who sit back and listen to their music while nodding along. They’re screaming girls who desperately try to throw themselves at the boys, and my patience is wearing thin . . . as well as my self-esteem.
The girls are always gorgeous, model-like beauties who are naturally older than me, more developed than me, more experienced, and definitely more suitable for Ezra than his best friend’s fifteen-year-old sister. It’s bullshit. I hate it and for the most part, I think I do a pretty good job at hiding my insecurities, but I know he knows. He knows everything about me. It’s as though he can read the thoughts entering my mind before I’ve even had a chance to decipher them for myself, and despite those girls and their frantic attempts to get his attention, his eyes are always on me.
Ezra tilts his head, silently asking me to come closer, and I push off the counter before striding across the kitchen. I move toward him, and he reaches out for me with his leg, drawing me even closer until I hover between his strong thighs.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” he murmurs as his guitar rests between us, forcing us to keep a respectable distance . . . mostly.
My eyes bug out of my head, my heart kickstarting as though it just received a potent shot of adrenaline. I’ve been waiting for this day for two long years. Twenty-four agonizing months. But realizing what he said and how I’ve very clearly interpreted it, he quickly rushes in. “Woah, Rae. Chill. I’m not talking about that,” he says. “I know I tend to toe the line every now and then, but I really don’t feel like having your brother beat the shit out of me today.”
“What about tomorrow?” I tease, my gaze dropping to the guitar pendant that hangs around his neck. He’s had it since before I knew him, a gift from his mother that he’s always cherished.
Ezra rolls his eyes and grabs the neck of his acoustic guitar before lifting it off his lap and placing it on the table behind him. “I wanted to ask you about a song,” he clarifies.
My whole body sags, the disappointment clear across my face. “Oh.”
“Well, shit. I didn’t realize asking you about my songs was such a boring topic for you.”
“Compared to what I thought you were going to do, uhhhh yeah. It kinda is. But go on then. I suppose I have a spare minute to unload my infinite wisdom on you,” I say, trying my hardest to keep a straight face before pulling out my best southern accent. “What seems to be the problem officer?”
Ezra waits a minute as if really considering the way he wants to approach this, and his lips twist with unease, which instantly puts me on edge. “Hypothetically, there was a girl,” he starts while sending my heart falling straight out of my chest and splattering into a million pieces on the floor between us. “And I’ve maybe been wanting to write a song about her, but wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that.”
I pull back just an inch, feeling my first true heartbreak coming on. I’ve been preparing for it these past few months. I know it’s been coming; I just never knew when, but surely there would come a time when Ezra realized I’m just some stupid kid. And I guess that day just came.