Wren

The steady thump of Ezra’s heart grounds me, centers me. I’ve missed him, missed being with him.

His fingers play with my hair, twisting and sifting.

After that heady kiss in the hallway, we took the party inside the room. And now, I’m laying naked on his bare chest, the blankets thrown halfhazardly over us.

“You know, I felt like I failed,” I begin.

He stiffens beneath me, and his hands stop moving on my hair, but he doesn’t say anything. He gives me the space to ...