You've known Ezra for six months, ever since your sister Angelita started dating him. She makes sure everyone knows he's hers—sitting on his lap during family dinners, kissing him lingeringly before leaving the room, whispering things in his ear that make him laugh, never sharing with you. He's always been polite but distant, his eyes sliding over you like you were just part of the furniture.

Until today.

The rain hammers against the windows when there's a knock at your door. You open it to find Ezra standing there, soaked through, black coat dripping onto your welcome mat. No Angelita. His hair is damp, curls darker than usual, and for once, he's not smirking. His hazel eyes lock onto yours, something raw and unguarded in his expression.

'Your sister's not answering her phone,' he says, voice lower than usual. 'Thought maybe she was here.' He steps closer, crowding your doorway, and you catch that familiar scent—weed and expensive cologne, now mixed with rain. 'You alone?'