“Nunya,” she says, a wicked grin spreading her lips.
“Tommy.” Exasperation makes me suck my teeth. “I thought you were done with him. You guys break up once a week.”
“I decide when I’m done,” she says. “Now get outta my ride.”
Ezra climbs out immediately. I open my door and get out, but lean into the open window of the passenger side. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“I’m not going to a convent, so I’m sure there will be plenty of things you wouldn’t do.”
“Whatever, Zee.” I tap the roof of the car and watch her taillights when she pulls out and drives off.
Ezra stands in my driveway. He glances up the street and huffs a breath. Mrs. Washington stands on her porch watering the row of plants marching down her steps. Really? At this time of night? She uses those plants as an excuse to get the 411 when something’s going down in the neighborhood.
Ezra takes my hand and leads me into the garage. He doesn’t lower
the door and doesn’t let my hand go.
“Tonight…was…” He shakes his head and frowns.
Frowns? I thought it was perfect. I want to kiss him again right now. Did he not feel the same?
“Did I…did I do something wrong?” I ask. “Was it—”
“No.” Ezra links our fingers and holds my gaze. “The opposite. It was exactly right. The best first kiss ever.”
Relieved breath whooshes from my chest, and our smiles meet in the middle, between us.
“I was just thinking,” he says. “You’re my best friend.” He looks up expectantly, leaving me space to respond.
“Yeah. Same. You’re mine, too. My best friend, I mean. You know that.”
“I was thinking about Tommy and Kayla. And all the people who break up and get back together and break up again. I don’t want us to be like that.”
“Are we…are we together? I know we kissed, but I wasn’t sure if—”
“I like you, Tru,” he says softly, his eyes lowered to the garage floor. “If you don’t feel the same way then—”
“I do.” I step closer and grab his other hand. “That’s how I feel.”
His smile comes on slowly, pinching at the corners like he’s trying to contain it. “Okay. Good.”
He sobers and glances up and pulls our hands between our chests. “I don’t ever want something stupid to ruin our friendship. People break up all the time, and it freaks me out that something might…change, and then we wouldn’t be friends.”
“Yeah. I get that.” I bite my lip and nod.
“So, pact.”
“Pact?” I laugh. “Like the pacts we made when we were kids? Like we wouldn’t ever summon the Candy Man? Or when we were seven, that I wouldn’t tell anyone where you buried that candy pop ring?”
“You take that information to the grave, Kimba Allen,” he says with false gravity. “You crossed your heart and everything.”
“I’ll never tell.” My chuckle settles into a smile. “So what’s this pact?”
His eyes trace my face, rest on my lips and send flutters through my belly. He holds his pinky finger out to me.
“Our pact is that we’ll always be friends,” he says, his voice quiet, sure. “That nothing will come between us, not even each other.”
Not even each other.