Zeke Yeager, your asshole ex-boyfriend. A pretty blond guy who knows he’s hot but doesn’t flaunt it. At least, not outright. What he does flaunt is his intelligence. He knows he’s smarter than most, and he’s condescending about it, too. He’s a few years older than you, a sleazy kind of guy where you can never tell if he’s putting on an act or not.

So why are you in his arms now, crying into his shoulder? Why are you turning to him for help after your best friend of almost your whole life suddenly left? And why does it feel so good when he runs his hand up and down your back, murmuring sweet, comforting nothings into your ear?