Page 16 of Beautiful Trauma
“Never developed a taste for it,” I said casually.
“He prefers to stay in control of his faculties at all times,” Dad said, raising his glass of water to toast me.
“That’s also true,” I confirmed.
Conversation between our families was easy and fun. We talked about the places we’d traveled to recently, and I learned Jared loved the same cities I did. Like me, he loved the Old World feel and beautiful architecture of Italy. If anyone noticed my attention straying to the table across the room, they didn’t mention it.
“Have you ever visited the lemon orchards on the Amalfi Coast?” Jared asked. “The fruit is huge and so much more vibrant than the ones we grow here.”
“It was one of my favorite places in Italy,” I admitted.
Thinking about lemons reminded me of Henry. I glanced back over at his table and saw he’d started on a second drink. His flushed face and goofy grin said he was feeling the effects of the first drink and probably didn’t need the second. Henry’s supposed friend was too busy looking at the dapper man on his other side to notice when Henry slid back his chair and wobbled as he rose to his feet. He stood there for a second, seeming to regain his equilibrium before he started walking toward the restrooms.
Henry wasn’t stumbling or staggering by any stretch, but he didn’t look sure-footed to me. No one at his table seemed to notice, which was why I had no choice but to set my napkin on the table and scoot back my chair.
“Excuse me for a moment,” I politely said, addressing my dinner companions. “I’ll be right back.”
I headed straight for the men’s bathroom, although I didn’t know what I’d do or say when I got there. I pushed open the door and saw Henry bent over the sink, splashing cold water on his face.
“Are you okay, Henry?”
He slowly lifted his head and met my gaze in the mirror. “No, Ezra, I’m not okay.”
EZRA TOOK THE FEW STEPSseparating us, and I turned to face him, not caring about the cold water dripping down my face. Leaning my ass against the porcelain sink for support, I met Ezra’s dark, turbulent gaze. Curiosity and concern for me warred with his need for self-preservation. I didn’t know why or how I knew what he was feeling; I just did.
Ask me why I’m not okay, Ezra. Please ask me why.
Ezra said nothing as he searched my eyes for a few moments before letting out a short groan of frustration. He ripped off a paper towel from the dispenser then gently patted my face dry. Even though our flesh didn’t touch, it was still the most intimate moment I’d shared with another person since leaving his apartment six months ago.
The gesture suddenly felt too intimate, reminding me of the care Ezra had given me after each round of sex. Gentle bathing, soothing words about how lovely I was, and how much he’d enjoyed the gifts I gave him.Me? He thought I was a gift tohim? The kindness he’d shown me in his apartment had made me feel special, but alone in the restaurant bathroom after everything that happened over the past twenty-four hours, Ezra’s actions majorly fucked with my head. I averted my eyes, avoiding his penetrative gaze. Ezra tossed the paper towel in the trash bin, but instead of stepping away from me, he placed his left hand on my hip. Bracketed between his body and the sink, I didn’t feel trapped or threatened, I felt…safe and grounded, which only fucked me up more.
The warmth of his skin seeping through my shirt made me gasp. I jerked my head back up and our eyes collided once more. In a matter of a day, I’d seen Ezra look at me with cool indifference, lust, and worry.
“Why aren’t you okay?” Ezra asked softly.
Moments before, it was what I wanted him to ask. I’d had just enough alcohol to make me feel brave, but after his tender ministrations and his anchoring touch, I just wanted to get away from him before I made a huge fool of myself. I shook my head and attempted to step away from him, but Ezra tightened his hold on my hip.
“Tell me,” Ezra said firmly.
Like someone snapped their finger, my liquid courage came roaring back. “You, Ezra. You’re my problem.”
He flinched but didn’t drop his hand from my hip or step back. “Me?”
“Yes. You and your fucking mixed signals are making me crazy.”
“Mixed signals?”
“Are you going to repeat everything I say?” I asked, shocking both of us with the defiance in my tone.
“I believe I need you to elaborate on the mixed signals I’m sending you, Henry.”
“Ah, the professor wants examples, does he?” I asked. Later, I would be stunned by my assertiveness, but I was too pissed to care about consequences right then. “Okay. I’ll give you specifics.” I took a step forward until there was no gap between our bodies. “Last night in your classroom, you looked right through me like you didn’t know the taste of my cum. It hurt my feelings, but I understood the position we were in and respected your moral code.” I took two more steps forward, forcing Ezra to step back. “Then you showed me kindness when you took me to the pizzeria. I told myself it wasn’t personal, and you would’ve done it for any of your students stranded in the parking lot.” Two more steps and I had Ezra at the door of an open stall. “But then you went and replaced Jess’s tire and had the car towed home.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ezra said.
I gripped the collar of his polo shirt and pushed him inside the stall. “Stop it. You denying it only confuses me more. If your actions didn’t matter, then why deny them?” Kicking the door shut, I closed us inside the tiny space. I knew Ezra wasn’t claustrophobic because of the intense make-out session we’d had on the elevator ride up to his apartment. “One minute your words and actions imply I don’t matter to you, but then you do or say something that makes me think you care a lot. You would’ve kissed me on the sidewalk earlier today if that jerk hadn’t interrupted us. Would it have stopped at a kiss?”
“Henry, don’t mistake my kindness for something it’s not.”