The Hours We Have

chapter fifteen

There was a knock on my door. 

It was late the next evening and I was sitting criss-cross applesauce on my bed. I had my computer on one side and a notebook on the other. I glanced up at my door, debating about who it could be, and whether I would grant them entry. I really needed to focus on my college work because every second I spent away, I felt like I was falling behind. 

"Come in," I finally called out. 

My door opened and Ezra paused in the threshold of my room. I narrowed my eyes, remembering the last encounter we had, and he did a brief scan of my room before finally looking at me. His expression was fixed with an emotion I couldn't place. 

"What are you, a human chewbacca?" He snorted. After the rainy days, it had gotten pretty chilly in the city, and I looked down at my overly fuzzy sweatshirt. It was comfortable and I was tempted to pull my hood up and flip him off. 

"What do you want?" 

He ignored me for a moment, walking over to my desk. With his back to me, he flicked my pencil holder and sent my writing utensils rolling across the desk, some of them scattering across the floor. 

"Why do you always have to do that?" I scowled sourly at him. 

He shrugged, "I just want to talk." 

"You are off to a great start," I muttered sarcastically. I looked down at my notes and absentmindedly scribbled a few things on the corner of the page. "Did Mikeal force you?" This morning I had seen my two oldest brothers talking for the first time in what felt like weeks. They just happened to run into each other on their way out for work, and I let them be.  

"No," I could practically feel his scowl but I didn't look up and he snapped, "I'm going to leave if you keep being so bitchy." 

Right, the usual behavior I see. I rolled my eyes, "Be my guest." 

He sighed, frustrated already. For a moment, I thought he would actually leave. "Can you please just listen for a moment?" 

I set down my pen and looked up at him. "Okay." 

He shifted on his feet. I quirked a brow at him. It wasn't usual for him to be nervous.

"I'm waiting." I poked at him for the fun of it. When he didn't say anything, unable to meet my eyes, I sighed in annoyance. "Look, if you're too chicken, leave a voicemail or text me." 

"I'm sorry," He blurted, and then his jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth for a second, "There I said it and it applies for everything in the past, are you happy now? I'm over this fucking nightmare." He mumbled that latter of those words, running a hand through his hair.

My eyebrows rose in disbelief and I said, "Are you?" 

Ezra never apologized. Maybe this was growth after his crazy Saturday night, perhaps he did remember. Either way, his dark eyes met mine with annoyance, "Can you not rub it in?" 

"There's no way I'm not going to." 

He groaned. "For fuck's sake, just don't tell the others." 

"Oh," I feigned surprise, "Mikeal didn't tell you? You have to apologize to the twins, too. You know, for trying to kill them in the living room the other day." 

"What? No, no way in hell." Ezra crossed his arms. 

"You don't have a choice." 

"Those little shits--" He stopped when I leveled him with a glare and after a moment of a heated battle of wills, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine, whatever."