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My eyes latch onto Ezra’s straight nose and dark brows, his hard jawline He’s looking down, so I see his dark lashes against his skin Then his gaze flicks up and hits mine like an arrow to a bull’s eye

Fuck I look away, realizing Dad is talking to Brennan and Marcel I can’t track the convo I’ Dad’s eyes slide to Ezra Just as Dad opens his uy is, Ezra sticks his hand out

“Ezra Masters,” he says gruffly

“Oh-ho-ho,” Dad chortles, shaking Ezra’s hand “The new QB”

Ugh

I ask myself do we have to do this? But we do Of course we do I’ he’s heard about Ezra from Coach Nix—one of my dad’s childhood friends—and whoever else spends their tih school football

Ezra’s face is near expressionless I’ jealous of his poker face when I notice his ears are red

Jeez,like some kind of fanboy Turns out, apparently, some of the Fairplay men in my dad’s circle stopped by to watch Ezra throw a few days back, at the request of showboat Coach Nix And he can throw it oh so extra far Seventy-souess that actually is pretty far

Ezra’s ears are getting redder by the second He looks almost nervous, but he fakes a smile when my dad slaps him on the shoulder

“Goin’ places,” Dad drawls, and I can’t help a quick eyeroll—which Ezra sees, and his gaze jerks to meet mine

I give hirins “You two starting to be buddies yet?”

Ezra frowns—it’s just the slightest pinch of his brows—and I widen my eyes as Dad turns to me

“You don’t know?” Marcel asks my dad Marcel slaps Ezra’s back “These two are brothers!”

My gaze is pulled tays at once as Ezra’s right eye squints and his upper lip curls slightly Meanwhile, dad is gaping

“Not by you, oldever “He’s the son of Carl”

Dad’s whole face transfor he’s ever heard in his life He looks froape