I let out a whispery string of cuss words as I dig around my backpack.

"How did I forget a hair tie?" I whisper to myself, still feeling around my bags, though I know it's no use. It might seem dramatic, but I cannot sleep when my hair clings to my neck. The only reason I was able to sleep last night was because of how tired I was.

"Everything okay?" Ezra's deep voice comes from behind me.

I turn around to see him in the doorway. My eyes slowly trail up his body, stopping at his wrist where two black hairties sit. I'm not sure how I haven't noticed them before.

My jaw drops–because how did I get so lucky?–and I point at them. "Can I have one?"

His eyebrows raise a fraction of an inch. "Malachi has used them before."

"Why are you wearing them?"

"He gets feisty during baseball games if he can't put his hair back, so I bring some when we play." It doesn't explain why he's wearing hairties that Malachi uses, but I don't push further.

"Can I use one?" I ask again. "I left mine at home."

He shrugs and smoothly slides one of the hairties off his wrist. "If you really want to."

I take it from him and quickly put my hair into a low messy bun. "Thank you," I reply.

"Of course." He enters further into the room, towards the bed, and I get a whiff of his cologne. The cedar and spice is a lot more obvious than the hint of vanilla that follows. It's intoxicating, the way it softly lingers in the air around me.

I turn to him and don't even think before asking, "Where did you get your cologne from?" It's a girl instinct. That's what I would ask any of my other friends–not that I'm his friend...or maybe I am?

When I turn around, I see him smiling from the bed. "Don't judge me, okay?"

I stand and sit on my side of the mattress, kicking my legs out in front of me. "No judgement here."

He looks away for a moment, his grin only widening when he faces me again. "It's Chanel."

My jaw drops for the second time. "Chanel?" I try to take a discreet breath to smell it again.

Ezra nods.

"Why would that warrant any type of judgement?" I ask. "I'm more of a Christian Dior girl myself, but I've got nothing against Coco either."

"Dior, huh?"

"I'm only saying that because my favorite lip gloss is from them," I add. "But fashion wise, it's pretty hard to choose."

"I know absolutely nothing about the fashion. I just know that the cologne smells good."

I almost eagerly agree with him about that last part, but decide against it since I don't want to come off as creepy. "Well, fashion shows aren't for everyone, but I've been to a few. Mostly in cities that I don't care much for while Dad and Lucas explore."

"You guys travel a lot, huh?"

I nod. "You'd think I'd grow tired of it, but I like the vacations."

"That sounds nice."

"You could probably come on more of the trips," I say without thinking. "Dad always lets us invite friends."

"Wonder what he would do if he knew where they are now," he mutters, almost too quiet for me to hear.

"What?"

He looks over at me. "You don't know?"

I feel the puzzled look form on my face. "No?"

"Oh."

"Ezra." I wait for his eyes to snap up to mine before I ask, "Where did they go?"

He blinks a few times, remaining silent. "Levi has a friend that happens to live just a few blocks away."

What? I try to think of a time my brother has snuck out in the past. Or rather, a time I was aware of it. But I can't.

"And they snuck out?" At that, he nods. "Why didn't you go with them?"

"There would've been a lot of alcohol and even more food." He shrugs. "I didn't want to be tempted, you know?"

Concern wells up within me. "What's wrong with food?"

He looks away for a moment, but I catch the reflection of an emotion that I know all too well. Anxiety. "Nothing. I just have a diet that I need to stick to."

"What's your diet like?" I keep my tone light, though I fear something dark lurks beneath his seemingly cool surface.

His eyes connect with mine again and the smile he originally had is now faded. "When I'm able to plan, I split up my daily intake. Thirty percent carbs, forty-five percent protein, and twenty-five percent fats. I don't eat sugar. And I stay away from processed foods, excessive salt, and anything artificial."

"And on the days you can't plan?"

He flattens his lips into a straight line before replying. "I avoid the same things and just choose whatever's healthiest."

"Don't you have cheat days?"

"I don't believe in cheat days," he says. "Not for me at least."

"You don't believe in cheat days?" When he doesn't reply, I ask, "No sugar? At all?"

His face flushes a light shade of pink. "No sugar at all."

The night he drove me and my friends to the gas station makes a lot more sense. If I held my diet to such a standard, I'd rather have nothing than V8, though. Disgusting.

"So. Are you missing Honey?" Ezra asks, changing the subject.

"Me?" I ask, letting out a soft laugh.

His lips pull into a soft grin. "Just seeing if you've had some type of character development since the last time I saw you in a room with the poor dog."

"There's no point in having a relationship with a pet that won't be here for long."

"Right," he says, his tone unconvincing.

"You don't agree?"

He tilts his head forward just a little. "Not in the slightest."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

I'm not sure how long has gone by, but exhaustion is apparent in us both, yet our conversation hasn't stopped since he first entered the room. We're still sitting with our backs against the headboard. He's watching me with intent as I rant about one of the books I read over summer.

"So anyway," I continue. "Her ex-boyfriend cornered her into the stairwell and ended up pushing her down." When his eyes widen, I can't help but smile. "Yeah. And when she– what?"

Ezra's eyes have slightly narrowed, but I can't decipher the emotion on his face. "Nothing, it's just...your–" He softly yawns before finishing his thought. "Your skin looks so soft." His voice is low and gravelly with exhaustion, wrapping around my skin with warmth.

"Oh," is all that I can say. How am I supposed to respond to that?

He nods. "It always looks smooth, even when you seem stressed."

My heart skips a beat. "I'm not stressed right now."

"Not right now. Just in general," he say. "I've seen you around school before. You used to be very high energy at the start of the– Nevermind, that sounds creepy. I shouldn't have said any of that."

Despite what he says, I'm sort of flattered. "I didn't think anyone paid that much attention to me."

He waits a moment before asking, "You seriously don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

His eyebrows furrow as if I should be understanding whatever is on his mind. "So many people pay attention to you."

"No they don't."

"Yes they–"

"No they don't," I cut him off. "There's a total of four people that talk to me and they're all girls."

"That's because the guys are too scared to talk to you."

I look at him with my face scrunched up. His words are completely nonsensical. "You're not too scared to talk to me."

"Not right now."

My mouth hangs slightly open before I swallow. "So you have been?"

"Definitely."

I'm not sure why, but I suddenly forget that he mentioned that other guys have paid attention to me. For some reason, he's all that matters right now.

"Because my dad is intimidating?" I ask.

He swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, looking away for a moment. When he turns back to me, he simply shrugs. "You seem...cool as well."

I tilt my head. "You didn't want to talk to me because I seem...cool?"

"Let's change the subject."

"So there's guys at our school who think I'm...cool?"

He lets out a soft sigh. "More or less."

I shake my head a few times. "You're lying. Everyone is so arrogant, they wouldn't feel scared of me. And the only times I've been asked out have been as a joke."

"Well, what did you say to them before you found out it was a joke?"

"I said no, obviously. I don't go out with people that I don't know."

His eyebrows raise like there's something I should be trying to put together. "You're right, they are arrogant. The guys that have asked you out were definitely serious, though. They just played it off as something else. Now the ones that think you're...cool don't bother making a move because you have a reputation for rejecting them."

I blink a couple of times, unconvinced. "This isn't funny."

"I didn't say it was."

Before I can let it get to my head, I steer the conversation back to the book I'd been talking about before we got off topic.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Ezra and I lapse into silence yet again, but it's become more comfortable. I doubt it's because we've run out of things to say, but rather, we don't know what to say next.

We're both now sitting up with our legs crossed, facing each other. I'm staring down at the light blue sheets beneath our legs, but he's looking at me.

"I think it's interesting," he says.

I look up at him and blink a few times, unsure of what he's referring to. "What is?"

"Most people who read romance books want love."

My face heats up for some reason. I seem to be doing that a lot. Anytime he reveals another detail that most people don't notice, I go a little weak.

"I never said I don't want it," I reply softly.

"You've rejected any guy who's ever asked you out."

I kiss my teeth before inhaling a deep breath. I'm not sure what he wants me to say. "You seem really keen on getting me to speak about my love life," I say, half-teasingly.

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a tired smile. "Maybe I am."

My eyes feel like they're about to fall out of their sockets. Why is it once I've decided to avoid romance that I'm sent a man who says things like that?

"Why?" I ask.

"I like hearing you talk. About everything." Silence swims between us for just a few seconds before he speaks again. "So are you like the majority of people?"

I look away then lay down, my head hitting my pillow. He does the same, his head hitting his pillow.

"Right now, it's a little complicated," I say. "But all that rejection in the past, it was just because of the lack of emotional connection. Well, that and..." It takes me a few seconds to contemplate whether or not I can trust him. "Don't judge me, but I'd only date someone who is–for lack of better word–husband material. There's just...a lot of worry that I'd end up with the wrong person."

I expect him to make fun of me, but he doesn't. "That is...crazily mature."

"Maybe. I just don't want to make my parents' mistakes." I take a long breath before adding, "And I'm not built for anything short-term."

"So what about right now?" He rests his hands behind his head. "If a guy could meet those standards of yours, would you get with him?"

As much as I want to think he's asking because he's looking for an opening, I know that that's not the case. I've come to terms with the fact that maybe he really does want to be friends. Anything more is off the table.

It's good that I've been able to keep my heart at a steady pace. Mostly.

I take a moment to think about how to phrase my thoughts. "I've got two priorities. School and friends-slash-family. And even that takes up too much space in my mind. So even if a guy seemed perfect, romance is a no."

"Because you don't want it?"

"Because I can't want it."

Silence hangs between us for a couple of seconds.

"I've learned enough about you to know that you could," he says. Through my periphery, I see him turn his head to look at me so I turn mine to look at him as well. "You're smart, thoughtful, and organized, Indigo. If you want something, don't hold yourself back."

I nervously swallow, my heart banging against my chest. My lips slightly part and his gaze travels down to look at them. A swarm of butterflies leap and twirl around in my stomach.

I slowly look back at the roof above us. "Thank you."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

We're laying on our sides, faced towards each other. Our hands are placed beneath our heads as our sleepy voices go on and on about all different types of topics. I feel like I could write a book about everything I've learned about him tonight and vice versa.

I'm not sure how late it is, but my eyes weigh down heavily. Every once in a while, I'll close them and even begin dozing off to the sound of Ezra's comforting voice.

Like now.

My eyes are closed and I'm trying my hardest to pay attention to him. He's talking about an embarrassing moment that happened during one of his baseball games, but I'm not fully aware of what exactly he's saying.

His words cut short, causing me to drowsily open my eyes. I glance down to see what he's looking at, and find his hand toying with a loose strand of my hair.

"Sorry," he says, letting the strand go.

"No, it's okay," I reassure and try  to ignore the sudden burst of energy in my heart. "What were you saying?"

His eyes connect with mine and he lets out a soft laugh. "I can't even remember."

My heart feels like it stops beating when his fingers brush along my hairline, pushing the loose strand back. He looks almost unaware of what he's doing as his hand trails down the side of my face. It sends an electric shock through my body.

"I used to braid my mom's hair." Ezra brings his hand down to below the side of his face, leaving behind a trail of chills.

"You did?"

He nods and gets a sad look in his eyes. The same look when he was talking about his friend Armando earlier. "She made me learn because she couldn't do anything other than simple braids."

Fascination sparks within me. "What kind of braids did you do?"

He gives me a sad smile. "Just the basics. French, Dutch, fishtail, waterfall."

"Maybe you could..." I bring a hand to cover my mouth as I yawn. "...braid mine sometime."

"I'd like that." His lazy grin makes me wonder if I'm dreaming, though the warmth that clouds over me feels too real.

Another wave of exhaustion washes over me and before I know it, sleep is whisking me away into the break of night.