by Alex Rosa
He doesn’t speak but takes three strides toward me, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me to him. It’s another tight squeeze reminiscent of this morning.
“Blake, are you okay?”
He lifts a heavy shoulder while the fingers of his right hand trail up my body until they reach my chin, lifting my stare to his.
“I’m perfect. I just can’t tell what I want anymore but I know it involves you. Tonight. You. This is what I want and need.”
Before I can ask more questions, his lips collide with mine hungrily. My feet fumble, and I take a step back, but Blake’s strong hold keeps me glued to him. I melt against his touch, wrapping my arms around his neck, putting all of my own desperation and nerves into the sealing of our lips. I can feel his erection pressing against my stomach, and I can’t hold back the crook of my mouth from rising.
I peel away just enough to catch my breath. “If you keep doing this, we’ll never leave the house.”
He presses his lips to my forehead, grinning like the beautiful fool he is. “You’re probably right. I have dinner reservations made.”
I smile, tugging gently at his hair. “Please don’t tell me this place is as fancy as our first date.”
He grumbles roughly, kissing me before pulling away. “It’s nice enough, and sort of a hot spot. I know how you like live music.”
I think I’m glowing. I’ve never said I like live music out loud. Blake just knows. He takes mental notes all the time. It’s something I don’t give him enough credit for.
“Awesome. You’re kind of the perfect boyfriend.”
His brows furrow. “Far from it, but I don’t think I’m half bad. We have a lot to talk about tonight, and I hope that makes us perfect together.”
He must feel my muscles tense under his touch because he leans in, chuckling as he kisses me again. “C’mon, Skye. Don’t be like that. You know it’s true. We need this; all of this.” His hands smooth over my ribs, sending a delightful hum through my body. “I’ve even told your brother to fuck off for the night.”
I raise a brow, shifting gears. “He let you do that?”
“Not without a bribe, but who cares?”
We both share a belt of laughter. There’s no way my brother would allow Blake and me to have the house to ourselves without hefty compensation. He hates it when Blake even holds my hand in front of him. I can’t imagine the fury building inside him at the thought of Blake and me here alone. I imagine my brother red-faced and frustrated, pacing Vanessa’s apartment, and a skirting giggle escapes my lips.
“Yeah, yeah . . . laugh it up.” Blake rolls his eyes before placing a kiss against my forehead again and grabbing for my hand. “You look really pretty tonight, by the way.”
Yup. Perfect.
I grin. “Thank you.”
He mirrors my look before heading downstairs, and I love that he’s in a simple V-neck and jeans. He makes the simple stylish.
I peer over at the clock, noting it’s nearing seven in the evening, and the thought of having Blake all to myself has my adrenaline pumping in the best way.
I heave in a deep breath, recalling Blake’s words. We do have so much to say. I want us at ground zero. I just worry what I’m willing to say. I swallow the thought.
When I make it to him in the living room he tangles his fingers in mine as he shoots me a smirk, his eyes sparking with the same thrill that I can feel at our fingertips’ touch. This is our night. We earned this.
That thrill reaches its peak as I watch Blake reach for the front door, and I’m about to tell him how much I love him and make some snarky remark involving a Ken doll, but before I can wrap my brain around another thought, I’m blinded, blinking furiously in unison with the sound of rapid clicking and bright flashes.
Cameras, lots of them, accost my senses.
What?
This is when my thrill crashes and burns into confusion, and maybe even fear; topsy-turvy sounds right, too.
I can’t see where I’m going. I raise my free hand up to block the bright lights, and drop my eyes to the ground, watching my steps. I don’t know what to do but follow Blake’s lead as he tows me forward, trailing out the front door, only turning around to lock it.
Blake opens the passenger-side door to his car. He’s pushing people aside while uttering stern excuse me’s to the overbearing crowd, and he’s careful I don’t bump my head as he rushes me into the seat, but it’s obvious my safety is his priority. The door slams shut, and I blink furiously as I watch Blake’s solid physique try to calmly walk around the front of the car, but his strides are rigid with annoyance, and even with each flash his eyes look like a dark forest of frustration. I think he might be on the verge of inflicting violence on anyone who might get in his way, but he’s surprisingly contained and determined with each step.
I’m still trying to figure out how we went from the calm of my bedroom to the chaos outside. None of it makes sense. What are all these people doing here, and why?
In the combination of clicks and feet shuffling, there were words, too. So many words. I think back on my quick journey here, and what I heard. There were questions with tones that demanded answers. I could hear our names the most. “Blake Everett! Skyler Silva! How do you feel about Kathryn Caraway?”
My heart jolts for a myriad of reasons. It’s one thing to know Blake’s name, but when did I become so relevant? And why mention Kathryn’s name as we come out of our front door? Jealousy makes an appearance as I think of Blake’s beautiful costar. The three of us mentioned all at once makes me uneasy. I try not to put any meaning to it, but then I remember her bright red lips against his skin, even though it might’ve been innocent. My blood sizzles, and I try for another pull of oxygen, even though my eyes are darting everywhere now. The crowd is calming, but that does nothing to slow the constant flashes. I keep trying to focus, but the bright lights make it difficult.
The driver-side door swings open and then closes with a fury once Blake’s inside. I want to say something, but I don’t know where to start. I worry my jealousy will somehow form words and get me into trouble if I try to speak.
Blake seems to be in the same mode. He turns the key in the ignition and shifts into reverse. I can tell he’s forcing himself to be patient when he presses the gas as I examine his clenched jaw. There are even paparazzi behind the car, which is what requires Blake to take his time leaving the driveway.
“Fuck” sputters from his lips as he eases the car out, and the moment he hits the street and shifts into drive the flashes stop.
I’m focusing on my breathing and constant blinking, as if hoping I’m going to wake up, but pulling me out of the moment, Blake snatches my hand from my lap, tangling his fingers in mine as he rests our hands against my bare thigh.
When we make it onto the main road he exhales, and it’s as if it’s his first breath since opening the front door.
I want to ask him if he’s okay, but it feels like a stupid move. I’ve already asked him that tonight.
Shocking me, he turns my way when we stop at a red light, and I almost think he’s trying to see if any cars are following us, but his eyes stay locked on mine as he says, “Change of plans.”
I don’t understand, and he must read my tightly scrunched brows when he chuckles.
“Blake, did you expect that back there?” His incredulous reaction to what we just went through throws me.
He shakes his head, turning back to the road as the light turns green. “Not at all. I don’t know why they were there.”
I think he’s going to say more, but he doesn’t. I lean forward and notice the etched lines of anger marking his face with the passing streetlamps.
He beats me to the punch. “Are you okay?” he asks, and I’m momentarily bitter that he can ask that question, and I feel like I can’t, but then again, I want to answer.
“I do
n’t know how I feel right now. My head is sort of . . . spinning, I guess.”
“Mindfuck, right?”
“Mindfuck?” I hum, tossing my head back and forth, testing the word, not being able to hide my comical smirk and a skirting giggle. “Mindfuck,” I repeat. “That’s exactly what this feels like.”
“It’s okay, we made it through. I’ll have to talk to Josh about getting some way to manage them on the property. I don’t know what the protocol is here, but I don’t want them to ruin our night.” His tone is brusque, and I know this whole thing bothers him more than his words imply.
I squeeze his hand. “I guess it was bound to happen. I just wonder what triggered their interest.”
The moment those words leave my lips I ache for my textbooks. I want logic and set schedules and memorization. I ache for that sense of control and structure. This feels out of my realm of understanding. I always considered myself an abstract thinker, but this really does feel like . . . a total mindfuck.
I think I see Blake flinch when I speak, but I can’t tell if what I notice is the result of him releasing my hand to make a hard right into a parking lot, or it’s something else entirely. I don’t want to see things where they aren’t, but it feels like tension hangs over Blake like a looming cloud, and I’m desperate to know why. That’s if my instincts are right, and I hope I’m wrong.
I gulp down my nerves, shaking my head.
Trying to focus on something else, I look around, realizing I wasn’t paying attention to our journey.
Our original dinner plans are out. So, what’s in? The parking lot is dingy and dark and in a neighborhood I surely don’t recognize.
“What are we doing?” I reflexively keep rubbing my palms over my thighs. They won’t stop sweating.
“We’re dropping the car off here.” He pulls into a parking spot and turns the engine off.
With us far from the chaos of our driveway and the radio turned off, the silence is overwhelming now. He pulls out his phone, quickly types something, and then shoves it back in his pocket.
I release a long breath that fills the void.
Blake grabs my left hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss my fingertips. “How you holding up, Skye?”
Usually, I’d hate that he’s checking up on me so frequently, but right now I’m thankful.
His lips continue to sway softly, back and forth against my fingers, and I have to admit, it definitely helps. “I’m better.”
“Good. I didn’t plan this part, obviously. We’re getting a cab. I just texted a company that’s on their way.”
My brows knit between my eyes for the umpteenth time tonight. Reading my look, he adds, “To avoid any more cameras or being followed.”
I nod through my disbelief that this is something we actually have to do.
“It’s gonna be fine. Nothing will ruin this, us. I won’t let it. So, let’s take this moment to forget what we just went through. I want us to talk, to laugh, and to enjoy each other. None of that other stuff matters, and it never will.”
Can hearts sing? Because my heart is currently belting out an opera.
Finally, I smile. “Okay.”
His grin is back in full Technicolor, and I lean over so my lips can capture his. His mouth is my soul’s remedy to anything and all things that cause my world to shift, because right now, this moment, he grounds me, no matter what. It’s a dangerous thing, my heart notes, because it’s like an elixir, or the Holy Grail. You worry it’s based on myth or folklore, but you know the truth and its existence. Then you worry what would happen if this magical thing ever disappeared. It’s too precious, too priceless, and nothing would ever be able to replace it. I’d wander the world like the knights of King Arthur forever to find it if I had to, but lucky for me, it’s right here. Blake is right here.
Honk. Honk.
He pulls away just that little bit to speak against my lips. “Cab’s here, babe.”
I hum, knowing I have to let him go. “Fine, but where are we going?” I smile and I can see that his eyes turn that inviting, lush color I know them to normally be. The color that tells me he’s okay. The color that tells me he’s in love.
“It’s a surprise,” he replies, still nose to nose, lips to lips.
“I can’t tell if I like surprises anymore,” I groan, trying my best not to recall the mob at our house.
Recognition flickers in his eyes, but the arching of his lips has me releasing the nerves that back up my words.
“You’ll like this one,” he replies before pressing one last possessive kiss against my lips.
***
When we approach the open doorway that stands in the brick of a looming, deserted city block, I examine the bright pink-and-blue neon lining the door frame. I try to figure out where we are. The neon tubing reminds me of a bar we were at months ago, but this one has a grungier, underground feel to it as I examine the doorway and concrete surrounding it. It’s almost an inconspicuous location with no real signage except for the glowing doorway and the hum of laughter and bass coming from inside.
“Blake, where are we—”
“Hush,” he says, tugging me forward. This feels like one of his games.
When my boots hit the shadowy but inviting warmth of what feels like a neon underworld, I note the writing on the wall, and the fact that it isn’t in a language I recognize. Instead of words there are symbols, and I lean toward the wall, squinting as I do. It isn’t until I hear the screeching of a microphone, and the beats of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” that I put the pieces together. I gasp, but it goes unnoticed once the person, wherever he is, begins belting out the tune.
Oh no . . .
I bring my attention to Blake who is conversing with the hostess, and I swear I see him slip her a dollar amount of some sort, but the cute Asian girl with the sharp bob is too busy almost swooning when he leans in close to whisper over the music.
I’m not even bothered by it anymore, and I’m shocked that this is something I’ve simply gotten used to.
When we start walking behind the girl leading us farther inside, I step up to Blake’s side. “It must be exhausting being so damn pretty.” I wish he could see my eye roll in the darkness.
“You tell me,” he quips, which has me fighting my own laughter that wants to twist around his.
Sometimes I hate that he so knowingly uses his looks for good and evil. It’s up for debate which side he’s using his powers for tonight.
I’m about to continue with snark, to check his ego at the door, but when we round the corner my fears are confirmed. I thought maybe my ears might have been deceiving me, but no.
I must have come to a complete stop, because Blake yanks at my arm, causing my boots to jerk on the tiled floor.
“Babe, c’mon,” he says, and I can hear his muffled laughter behind his words.
I laugh too, and let go of his hand, moving my own to cover my burning cheeks as my eyes collide with my worst nightmare. “I thought we were getting dinner?” I squeak.
He turns back, flashing that dimple. “We are. It just happens to be this dinner comes with entertainment.”
I roll my eyes before letting them land on what I now realize is a booth the girl has led us to. I know Blake is standing next to me, watching me, waiting for me to make a move, but I’m too busy taking it all in, and I know he likes observing me like I’m his personal science project, but I don’t care.
My senses are on full alert. The place is buzzing, dark, and loud. The darkness still illuminates the deep purples that cover nearly every surface. It’s busy, packed even. Everyone sitting at their tables are oblivious to the chaos we escaped a bit ago, which helps ease my nerves. They all seem to be having a good time, laughing, cheering, and chatting while someone on the stage in the front of the room continues to belt out the song.
“Just a
small town girl, living in a lonely wooorrlldd . . .”
The person’s terrible singing, screeching or not, doesn’t seem to affect the atmosphere either. Just like its patrons, the singer/brave soul is having a good time.
I lift my chin, because my nose is involuntarily following the wafting smell of sweet barbecue. I notice, among the chatter, smoke looming over tables. It twists around the low-hanging fog in the center of the room where fog machines work their magic near the small stage.
My eyebrows bunch up curiously. “Where are we?”
Blake grabs for my hand, bungee-ing me back into his arms. “A place no one would ever think to find us. Call it a last-minute switch up.”
Sure, the corners of my mouth are lifted like a dopey teen whose boyfriend just gifted her his varsity jacket, because how could you not lose your wits when staring into Blake’s eyes, but my heart rate is thumping with nerves it doesn’t normally have to deal with.
“Singing?” I squeak.
He shrugs, pecking a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Korean barbecue and karaoke. What a combo, right?”
I let out a shriek of laugher, shaking my head. “I don’t sing.”
The hand I didn’t know was at the small of my back curves over my ass, his fingers strumming over the short hem of my dress at my thighs. “Neither do I.” He winks.
When we nestle into the booth right in front of the stage I want to argue about Blake’s incognito plan, but I know he’s just as rattled by this evening as I am, even though he won’t admit it. It’s in the unfamiliar crinkle around his eyes that I witness in lulls of the darkness.
I reach out for his hand over the table, making sure to avoid the grill, currently turned off, between us.
He stares at our interlocked fingers a few seconds before bouncing his eyes to mine, smiling. I’m not going to ask if Blake is okay, because I don’t have to. We’ll be fine. I think.
The waitress arrives, laying down tiny bowls of food I don’t recognize as a first course to a meal. She’s rattling words off so fast that I squeeze Blake’s hand before having to let go when she turns knobs at the edge of the table, turning on the grill, igniting a slow, literal sizzle between us as I try to keep up. Before I can figure out the meal I’m assuming she’s leaving to get us, she’s gone in a flash. It’s Blake’s laugh that brings me back.