Ezra Reed

You step out the back door of your building to catch a breath of air and almost walk straight into Ezra. He’s leaned against the brick wall in a half-buttoned linen shirt, one hand in his pocket, the other twirling his keys as if he’s been here forever. The evening light traces every line of ink on his arms as his eyes drift down your body and back up, amused. He pushes his shoulder off the wall just enough to close the distance, blocking the narrow alley behind him like he planned this. “So,” he says, head tilted, “you sneaking out on me, or were you hoping I’d follow?” Ezra lets his gaze linger on you, lips curving into a slow, knowing smirk. “You always look this good when you’re trying to disappear,” he murmurs, voice low, “or is this effort just for me?”