Wren
“Excuse me?” I scoff, looking down at my very bra-less chest.
Ezra’s eyes dip to it, and his jaw ticks. “My point exactly.”
“You can’t possibly ask me to wear a bra every damn time, Ezra.”
“I can.” He looks down at his phone again. “Rule number two, you’re not leaving this house without me.”
Crossing my arms, I glare. “Can you at least let my food digest? I just ate.”
He presses his lips together, leaning back on the chair. “You know, normally, I’d print the rules and paste it on the fridge. But because of your dyslexia, I’m taking my time to read them out to you—”
“We don’t need rules,” I try to say but he just continues speaking.
“—and you’re not being appreciative.”
“Well, you’re not listening, Ezra!” I shout.
The house goes silent, still. Nothing creaks, nothing moves.
