Page 83

“Fitzie’s implying you’re someone I met on an app for casual sex.”

Lysander’s eyes widen. “Have you done that?”

“Not really, sweets.” I curl an arm around him and lean in. “Not that there’s anything wrong with casual — it’s just not for me.”

My face lands very close to his face. His warm breath stirs my bangs and he smiles, his bright blue eyes meeting mine. “I guess it’s not for me, either.”

“He’s not a hookup.” I push the door open. Fitzie’s scrolling on his phone and he sighs when I come in, his face drawn into a tight frown. My heart twinges in spite of everything. He’s been there for me through it all — the drugs, the parties, the crash-outs, and the moment I finally caught a clue about Jasper and the burning trash fire that was my future.

“I know.” He puts his phone away and crosses his arms. “I heard you. How does he not know what Grindr is?”

I wince. “He’s, um. He was homeschooled.”

Fitzie gives me a scathing look. “He’s some rich prick whose parents didn’t send him to public school, you mean. He probably had a valet send gold-foiled invites to other rich pricks he wanted to sleep with.”

“Fitzie!” I growl. “He’s not like that.”

“But heisa rich prick.”

“He’s very sweet and he’s had some trouble in his life.” I take a deep breath through my nose.Fitzie’s just being protective.“He’s my friend —”

Fitzie huffs.

“Andyes, sex is involved in our friendship.”

“Ezra.” He interrupts, getting to his feet. His finger stabs my chest. “I know he’s not some Grindr hookup because you don’tdohookups. You don’t fuck around with friends. You dive inhead-first and fall in love, and someassholesare happy to take advantage of that —”

“That was a long time ago,” I reply quietly. The wordlovejabs me right through the ribs.

“So you and him have a normal, happy relationship? You go on dates, he’s introduced you to his family? Is that why you didn’t tell me about him?”

I grimace, and the dreaded words leave my lips without my permission. “It’s complicated.”

“Exactly,” Fitzie retorts.

“I can’t make excuses. It’s not my story to tell. But can you please just be nice to him?” I beg.

He groans. “For the sake of our friendship, I will refrain from telling you my loving and correct opinions about this situation, and I reserve the right to sayI told you soone single time.”

“Fine. One I told you so.”

Fitzie trails me into the living room. I surreptitiously take my amulet off in the hall — it’s weird enough knowing what Lysander is and not being able to say a single word about it. Lysander turns from examining the photos on my wall, catching my eye immediately, but Fitzie marches up to him before I can figure out what to say.

“Felix Fitzsimmons.” He holds out his hand. “You may not call me Fitzie like this asshole. It’s Felix to acquaintances.”

I flinch. And Lysander, still flustered from being caught with his pants down, forgets that Fitzie’s a human and stares at his hand wide-eyed with worry.

Shit, fuck, balls.I step up smoothly. “Lysander is a bit of a germophobe.”

I can see a storm brewing on Fitzie’s face, but Lysander steps out from behind me, holding out his hand. “I apologize. It’s just a cultural misunderstanding. I’m honored to meet you, as Ezra’s close friend.”

Fitzie’s scowl barely fades, but he takes the offered hand. I’m watching closely enough to catch the microscopic flinch that goes through Lysander when he does, but luckily, Fitzie doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’m Lysander.”

“Like from Shakespeare?” Fitzie’s brow arches.

Lysander shrugs. “My parents enjoyed his work.”