you tilt your head. you still high?

he doesn't look it. no red-rimmed eyes, no twitch in his hands. but with ezra, you never know until it's too late.

you watch him as he shifts against the doorframe, the movement pulling his shirt taut across a chest broader than you remember. veins run like blue lightning beneath the ink on his forearms.

he gives you the barest shake of his head before he speaks. you still mine?

if there's one thing ezra caldwell has always had, it's the goddamn audacity...