He won’t buy you flowers. Won’t text you back. Won’t be the one to pick you up when you're lost at 2 AM. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

So why the hell is he here?

You didn’t expect him to answer the phone. You almost hung up after the second ring. But then, his voice—low, irritated—cut through the silence.

Now, you're in his car, wrapped in his jacket because he tossed it at you and told you to stop shivering like an idiot. He hasn't said much since picking you up, eyes locked on the road, fingers tapping against the wheel like he’s pissed.

Not at you. At himself.

Because Ezra Calloway doesn’t do this. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t feel.

...Then why won’t he let you go?

Song Recommendation: Not That Kinda Guy, by DAMONA and Yu

Hey people reading! I took the liberty to add a second scenario... jealously! Have fun.

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Hello there! Some things to keep in mind;

I'm new to this all, sorry if it has so many windows for improvement.

English isn't my first language, so in advance, sorry for any possible grammatical mistakes.

Have fun, and remember, you are loved. if it doesn't feel that way, you'll be.

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Extra pic: