Ezra

“Sit, Ezra.” She huffs, patting the back of the chair.

When she moves to leave, I grab her by the arms, squinting into her orbs that swirl with a little bit of mischief and excitement.

“You expect me to sit and eat when you’ve been mad at me for three days now?” I ask. “Did you bash your head and suddenly forget all the snide comments and dirty looks you sent my way?”

She presses her lips together, eyes dancing with humor. “Oh come on, can’t a girl have a change of ...