what big ears you have

About this short story: second chance romance, enemies to lovers, slightly femme biracial male lead, petty and chaotic female lead

The last time Maisy had interacted with Trevor Williams, she’d thrown a pack of jalapeño poppers at his head.

In her defence, she’d been sixteen years old and moaning to her friends about how big her ears were, and Trevor—beautiful, standoffish, holier-than-thou Trevor—had rolled his eyes and muttered his agreement. Unasked. Maisy had watched with satisfaction as the greasy paper sack had smacked him right in the temple and jalapeño poppers had spilled all over his expensive sneakers.

It was over ten years later now, and Maisy had been living in New York City since she’d graduated from college. She hadn’t seen anyone from high school since she’d left the small town she grew up in, so she’d been pretty fucking surprised when she’d stepped into her favorite late night pizza spot to find Trevor sitting alone at the booth closest to the door.

“Maisy?” Trevor’s voice was deeper, richer than before—and the way he fucking looked. He was still beautiful, his piercing blue eyes set off against deep brown skin, with a sloping nose and plump lips that were just this side of feminine. But he’d grown into his physique, and he was wearing a sequined bomber jacket and blue nail polish that matched his eyes exactly. In short, he was so fucking attractive that Maisy could do nothing but stare at him slack-jawed. He hadn’t dressed like that in high school. No one had dressed like that at their high school, and it was, to Maisy’s horror, kind of really doing it for Maisy.

“Uh.” Trevor’s brow creased. “Am I thinking of the wrong person? If so, I’m sorry—“

“Yeah,” Maisy said, because she could be a bitch when she wanted to be. She was also terrible about being caught off-guard, and even worse about being caught off-guard by finding someone ridiculously attractive. “Sorry, I’m not your friend.”

Trevor’s expression grew mystified, and Maisy could swear the jerk was holding back a smile. He tilted his head. “Oh, Maisy wasn’t my friend. She was kind of the worst, actually. And her ears—“

“You fucking asshole!” Maisy hissed, then felt her face heat immediately. Trevor burst out laughing, the sound warm and open. It seemed like the only thing about him that hadn’t changed was how much of a dick he was.

“I knew it was you!” he said triumphantly. He gestured to the empty seat across from him. “Want to sit down? I can’t believe you tried to pretend you were someone else. I would know those—“

“If you say ‘ears,’” Maisy growled, “I will find out where you live and murder you in your sleep.”

Trevor’s smile was almost blinding. “Maisy, I’m joking. I don’t think you’re the worst, and I owe you an apology for ten years ago, though I’ll never forget the jalapeño popper wastage.”

It was too much; Maisy couldn’t wrap her brain around a Trevor in a sequined jacket smiling at her and wanting to apologize. So, instead of trying, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the pizza place without another word.

She hadn’t thought about Trevor in years, and she knew it was petty to still be mad about something that had happened forever ago. But she remembered how her 16-year-old self had felt, and the embarrassment burned through her now as she stomped down the sidewalk in the cold air, trying to put as much distance between Trevor and herself as possible.

“Maisy! Wait up!”

Maisy whipped around to glare at Trevor, her arms crossed over her chest. He was taller than she’d expected, and now that he was standing, she could see that he was wearing the tightest leather pants she’d ever seen in real life. It was a crime that such an idiot was blessed with both that kind of body and that kind of fashion sense. God really did have favorites.

“I’m sorry,” Trevor said as soon as he was close enough. He grimaced, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, his sparkly nails glinting in the glow of the street light. “I was stupid back then, and I’m admittedly not much smarter now. I never thought your ears were big. I was being a jerk.”

Hearing his apology was just another reminder of how petty Maisy had been and how petty she still was. So, she gritted her teeth and tried to be an adult. “Thanks. And I’m sorry, too—for throwing food at you. Definitely not my finest moment.”

“It’s okay.” Trevor cupped his hands over his mouth and blew into them. “Wow, it’s fucking cold out here, huh? I’m still not used to the weather in NYC.”

Despite her desire to get away from him, Maisy did have some questions: when he moved here, why he moved here, why he’d even agreed that her ears were big if he hadn’t thought so. But as she tried to sift through all the things she could say, what actually came out was, “That’s a nice outfit.”

“Oh.” Trevor looked down at himself. When he lifted his eyes to meet hers, a zip of heat raced down Maisy’s spine. “Thank you. Not warm enough for the weather, but I love this jacket. Beauty is pain or whatever.”

“And I guess the lack of gloves is all the better to show off your nails,” Maisy said.

Trevor paused, tucking a thumb into one of the belt loops on his pants. His voice came out overly casual. “Are these really compliments, or do you have a problem with how I look?”

Maisy didn’t have a great brain-to-mouth filter under the best of circumstances, and this wasn’t even close to a good circumstance. So, as before, she let her mouth run freely. “If finding you really fucking attractive is a problem, then yes, I do.”

For a moment, Trevor just stared. Then, he looked her up and down and said, “You’re not drunk, are you?”

“Stone-cold sober, unfortunately.” Maisy needed to retake that online BDSM test her friends were always circulating, because from the way this conversation was going, she had to be a masochist. Wincing at herself, she leaned back against the brick wall and tried to come up with an excuse. “Sorry. I’m exhausted, and I haven’t had enough pizza to act like a normal person.”

“I’ll buy you some if you want,” Trevor offered.

She eyed him suspiciously. “Will you forget I said you were hot?”

“Absolutely not.”

Maisy groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Then, no, thanks. I’d like to have my pizza alone. In peace. Away from attractive people who once said my ears were big.”

She could feel Trevor’s fingers on hers, gently tugging her hands off her face. When her face was uncovered, she scowled at him. “What are you even—“

“Maisy,” Trevor said, “I’m going to kiss you.”

Oh. Maisy’s eyes flitted to his lips. She definitely wasn’t drunk, but she kind of felt like she was. Either that, or she’d entered an alternate dimension. She imagined Trevor’s mouth on hers and realized she really wanted that. Like, badly.

“Okay, fine,” she said, and reached up to get one hand around the back of his neck and drag his lips down to hers.

His lips were so cold that it was a little like kissing a vampire at first, but Maisy pushed up onto her toes and kissed him more firmly, her tongue sweeping over his lower lip to try to warm it up. She took his freezing hands and slipped them under her shirt; she was both hot-natured and selfless, and from the way Trevor squeezed her waist gently, thumbs stroking over her bare skin, he was very appreciative.

Long minutes later, Trevor pulled back, and Maisy stared at him, dazed, with only one ludicrous thought running through her mind.

I’m going to marry this man I once threw jalapeño poppers at and have now kissed a total of one time.

Trevor’s thumb skimmed her cheekbone, then pressed into the dip below her bottom lip. His voice turned low and serious when he said, “Your ears are the perfect size. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“That’s the stupidest fucking line I’ve ever heard,” Maisy said.

(Three years later, they were married. When their first child was born with abnormally small ears, she blamed Trevor entirely.)