by Alex Rosa
“I’ll show you how it works. It’s not as complicated as it seems.”
I shrug. I don’t care about the food anyway. I just care about the company.
The person on stage finishes his song with a bow, and considering it could’ve sounded much worse, I applaud him and his bravery.
The restaurant hums with chatter without the sound of someone singing, and it starts to feel cozy. I try not to think about the waiting mic on the speaker fifty feet away.
I turn back to Blake who’s already watching me.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask, really curious as to the answer as I tilt my head to the side, mirroring his examination.
“Lots of things. I’m not sure where to start.”
I chew my lip. Those words ring true for me, too.
He lifts both of his hands and runs them through his hair. I worry that means he’s doubly frustrated, and I have no idea at what.
“I’m sorry for not telling you about that party thing you saw on TV.”
Okay, so that’s where he wants to start. His pupils are wide and uncertain as he gauges my reaction.
I nod slowly. “It’s fine. We worked that out. We don’t need to rehash it.”
He nods as well, but his is a little frantic. “I want to talk about that night, though. There’s something I need to say, and it’s eating at me. I want to be honest, and I don’t want to fuck this up, please know that.”
The sizzling from the barbecue in between us starts to feel like it’s coming from my nerves building under the surface of my skin. “All right . . .”
“I need to get this off my chest. Just know that I’m not saying any of this to upset you, and that it’s only because you always deserve the truth.” He pauses a beat before punctuating the end of his sentence with, “I love you.”
I know that what he’s saying is something I asked of him only days ago. Honesty. Nothing he says should upset me if it’s the truth. I nod, but I can sense my own doubt.
His hands strum over the table nervously, tapping out a fast beat. “I drank too much that night. It was stupid. We wanted to celebrate. Me, Josh, and Kathryn. We’ve been working so hard, and so constantly. At first, I didn’t want to, but I kinda missed letting loose, you know? With Josh making it seem okay, I didn’t see the harm. Kathryn supplied the tequila. She was desperate to clear her head, too. We’re all a bit overwhelmed for different reasons, and with the end of filming in sight, it made sense to let go.”
I sigh, rubbing my hands over my upper arms, getting a chill. I don’t like the rehash, and I don’t care for hearing it all over again. Actually, I hate it. “I already know all of this, Blake.”
“I’m not done. There’s something else I need to tell you.” It’s as if he has to force out each word. His handsome face pales in the darkness, and his eyes round apprehensively.
My throat goes dry, and I don’t know what the fates have planned for me, but the waitress appears again, a bottle of warm sake rice wine, and glasses of water on a tray.
I watch the tight tick of Blake’s jaw as he silently watches her.
Taking advantage of the moment, I pull in a deep breath, reminding myself that whatever is happening right now is only a hurdle. All we need to do is get over this. This is us wanting the same thing. Whatever he has to say, I can handle it; we can handle it.
I grab for the water, nearly knocking it over in the process, eager for a distraction.
The waitress pours us sake in our tiny ceramic cups before reaching to place four different types of raw meat around the edges of the grill, and then, just as quickly as before, rattles off more directions for cooking on the grill; then she’s gone.
Apparently needing something with more oomph, I absentmindedly grab for the sake after placing the water back onto the table. I keep telling myself I’m making this tension up in my head. However, when Blake matches my movements, grabbing for his sake, seemingly needing it as much as me, each muscle in my back coils tightly.
I try to smile for him, hoping that maybe it will provide the confidence he (and I) seem to need.
We clink glasses and drink. The sake burns awkwardly, warm and strong, down my throat, but the tingling feeling that plummets into my core, and sparks out to my limbs, helps me calm just that little bit. I need to keep this going.
“So, what? You had fun that night. It’s okay. You’re allowed to have fun, Blake. We talked about this. What more could you possibly have to tell me?”
I wish his beautiful jaw would relax. It’s the only thing egging on my nerves.
“I know, but it feels good to hear that. Although, the night didn’t end so well for me.” He pauses to release a sigh, his emerald eyes boring a hole into mine. “Nothing happened, but it feels worth mentioning because you have to know I hate not telling you things, and I’m working on it.”
“Blake, it’s fine, real—”
“I crashed in Kathryn’s hotel room, and she might’ve made a move earlier in the night, but I didn’t remember until that morning.”
He winces once he’s finished, and I think he’s holding his breath. I’ve forgotten how to breathe, too. The fork I’m holding drops from my fingertips to clang with the knife on the table. “W-what?” I blink what feels like twenty times a second as I process what he’s just said. Fear floods me, my lips burn, my heart aches, and my lungs feel like they’re going to explode. I have an urge to run.
He reaches out for my hand, and I flinch, but he grabs my hand before I can pull away.
“Skyler, it’s not what you think. Listen to me. She tried to kiss me, but all I could do was say your name, over and over again. I rejected Kathryn, only wanting you. Do you hear me? I. Only. Want. You. Even drunk off my ass, it’s only ever been you. Believe me,” he pleads, his eyes stark and fearful, reflecting the feeling coursing through my veins. “The only reason I ended up in her hotel room was because I was too incoherent to walk.”
He shakes his head, clenching his eyes shut before opening them, eyes blazing. “You have every right to be mad, but this is me being honest. This is me not holding back.”
We just stare at each other, and he squeezes my hand almost desperately as he adds, “Say something, Skye.”
My tongue peeks out as my teeth nibble the edge of it as I try to remember how to use it.
“I don’t know what to say.” I’m fuming, but even I can recognize my eerie calm. Surely, he can feel my palm sweating. “Why didn’t you say something when we talked?”
“Babe, I didn’t know what to do. I was missing you so damn much that the last thing I wanted to do was bog down our conversation more than it already was. You were far away from me. But let me repeat, nothing happened. I’m telling you because I want to be able to tell you.”
I nod. I want him to be able to tell me these things too, even when they shouldn’t be happening. I can feel water gathering in the corners of my eyes. I pull my hand free from his to wipe the pools away. I refuse to cry over this. “Nothing happened?” I question again, needing to hear it.
“Nothing. Are you upset?” This time my face turns to stone. He winces again. “Okay, stupid question. Of course you’re upset.” His eyes fall to the table, staring at my hand now out of reach, and I can tell he hates the distance.
How do I process this? I chew my bottom lip, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “You should have told me about this when we were on the phone.”
“Babe, I didn’t know what to do,” he replies pleadingly, and his tone reminds me of that terrible night when I thought he got back together with his ex-girlfriend Marguerite.
Blake and I had barely been official for a day when I had come home that night, stupidly blissful and oblivious. I walked in to see her in my kitchen barely clothed in what only a supermodel might consider pajamas. She took advantage of my ignorance to skew the truth and flat-out lie. It was a s
ituation I could have easily understood if she would have confessed she was coming from an abusive situation, but her intentions were not to seek help, but to win Blake over. All of it could’ve been avoided if Blake told me what was going on, but he was trying to shield me from the stress. Which is what he’s trying to correct now. He’s trying to be honest. That situation with his ex was so much worse, and we got through that. He’s right. This is him trying.
This helps me to focus as he continues, “I didn’t know how to say the words. I was also scared, like I am now. The last thing I ever want is to allow someone to get in the way of us. Know that I confronted her on it. That morning she was just as much a sloppy, hungover mess as me, and she looked like a fucking train wreck. She was embarrassed and apologetic, but I made it clear that what she did was wrong. She knows I’m madly in love with you.”
I don’t know why I take a minuscule bit of joy when hearing that the gorgeous Kathryn Caraway woke up as a train wreck, but I most definitely do.
My lips twitch, hinting at a smile that wants to emerge, and it’s the light at the end of the tunnel. This odd sense of relief slowly starts to simmer below the surface of my skin. I love Blake, and I love him even more for confessing. This is the right reaction.
If he’s telling me the truth, then his words about how he feels about me are even truer. My mouth falls open just enough to expel a pent-up exhale, releasing the tension in my chest, and I nod through it, realizing that we’re okay. Just like I had hoped.
Though, I might consider violence in the presence of America’s not-so-sweetheart, Kathryn Caraway. What a stupid name, anyway.
The nerves in my gut dissolve, and I tweak a brow. “Okay.”
He leans back, seemingly stunned. “Okay? So, you’re not mad?”
I roll my eyes, grabbing for the fork I dropped, but gift him with a smile. “Well, of course I’m mad . . . furious, really,” I add, trying to say it with enough sarcasm to get his shoulders to drop below his ears. “I don’t want any of that happening, but I guess I need to realize that sometimes people are going to push their limits, with you, and with me. We just have to hope we handle it right, and we are.” I have to pause to process my incredibly adult response, realizing I’m making more headway than I thought I would. I grin fully this time. “I’m more concerned that you let yourself get so out of control.”
Finally, his broad shoulders fall, and I wish he was closer.
“Trust me,” he replies with a chuff. “I regretted it. And next time I do that—” I raise both brows in reaction, making him laugh, and the sound is heaven because it means we’ve done it. We’ve made it through. He continues, “IF I decide to do that again, I want you there. We’ve had angry sex, but not drunk sex.”
I don’t fight the blush rushing to my face. I look away, releasing a soft chuckle. This boy and his one-track mind. I refuse to mention our first encounter at my birthday party months ago when he had easily convinced me to partake in a friends-with-benefits for the first time that ended up turning into so much more.
A comfortable silence falls between us. My eyes peek up to catch his smirk, which only ignites mine. This is when I realize we’re back to normal.
Even the tiniest crook to his lips, and that glimmer in his eyes, are like the sunshine after a rain, and I just want to soak in it.
I pour us more sake as I attempt to hide my smile.
“Are we okay?” he asks.
I nod. “I actually think we are.”
“We’re so mature.”
I laugh as we both grab for new cups of sake. What surprises me most is that my conscience suddenly makes an appearance when I remember my own secrets.
I shove down the rising guilt that appears with it, back into the depths of my gut. I refuse to think of Jason and the photos Gio took. There’s a time and place for everything. With this hurdle successfully solved, I don’t want to ruin the moment. I want to let us have this. I can only deal with so much. One thing at a time. What I have to say can wait, at least for now.
This time when I gulp down the relentless guilt that still tries to appear, it burns as I reply, “Right? I was totally just thinking that!”
We swing back our drinks before releasing loud belts of laughter that seem to gather stares, causing our laughs to choke off into unattractive snorts. The drink soothes the burn, and I completely let go of the guilt-ridden thoughts from before.
At least one thing’s for certain, nothing is more handsome than a laughing Blake.
With the argument behind us, a boyish excitement appears as he shakes out his shoulders. “I can’t wait for you to come with me to that awards show. Finally, things will start to feel right. I don’t want to hide you, but I also don’t want to blast my personal life anywhere.”
I hum, thinking it’s going to be difficult to be private if photographers are at our doorstep.
“I can’t wait to be your date. I’d be lying if I said a red-carpet affair isn’t something I’m giddy about. Blake, what are you doing to me? I was a lowly college student only weeks ago.”
“You were never a just a college student to me. You’re so much more, and you know it.”
My heart thumps fiercely in excitement and fear when my worlds collide, and, reading my thoughts, Blake asks, “So, Gio and school applications, where do we start?”
I watch and follow Blake’s lead as he grabs forkfuls of meat and lays them over the grill, the sweet sauce sizzling immediately and releasing a delicious smell.
I chew my cheek, wondering how much is worth telling Blake. The lines around his eyes are smooth and calm now, and I don’t want to rattle him any more than I need to. I decide in that instant that I don’t want to mention Jason, not at all.
“There isn’t anything else you wanted to say?” I ask, just in case.
His pause matches his misplaced hesitation from before as his eyes flicker to mine, but he shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Okay, where do I start?” There go my nerves again, and I wish this damn table, let alone this grill, wasn’t between us because I could really use his lips right now before I speak. “I’m going to do a Harper’s Bazaar photo shoot with Gio.” I bite my lip, realizing that the omission might sting more than I think when Blake’s hand freezes midair. “I mean, I-I don’t know. He asked me to do it. He thought it would be good for me to widen my view of the modeling world under his guidance, and for my portfolio. I think I agree. I-I—”
“It’s okay, Skyler. I think that’s a great idea.” He pauses, chewing on that bottom lip I want so badly before continuing. “You and Gio are getting pretty close, then?”
The corner of my mouth reflexively lifts at the hint of jealousy and curiosity in his tone, and I can feel this conversation already smoothing out.
“Yeah, actually. He’s definitely a friend. He’s helped me figure out a few things, in his annoying Gio way.”
“Do you find him attractive?”
My eyes nearly bulge out of my face at the direct question. “What?”
He lifts a heavy shoulder, watching me carefully, but I see at least a hint of humor in his stare. “I don’t know. If a dude like Gio is spending so much time with my girlfriend, it feels like a fair question.”
“It also feels like a trap.”
He laughs, forking a piece of cooked meat from the grill and lifting it up to my mouth. I smile, not letting my eyes leave his as the fork gets closer.
“Careful, it’s hot,” he says almost seductively, his eyes trained to mine, and I blow on the fork before wrapping my mouth around it. I revel in the flash of heat in his eyes, and the way his tongue swipes over his lips as I chew.
“Delicious.”
He nods and inhales. “I bet.”
“What do you think about this modeling thing, Blake?” I ask, wiping at the corner of my mouth as I try to ignore the pulse forming rapidly between my
legs. We have to talk this out first.
“I think you’re a natural. I knew you would be. The Gio thing I need to get used to, but if anyone is a good mentor, it’d be him, hands down. Girls would kill to hold Gio’s attention for more than thirty seconds. Granted, this is where I worry he’s more interested in you than I’d like.” He lifts his eyes from the food. “And I trust you. All I want to make sure of is that it’s something you want. Josh has no idea what you’ve been up to, and I sure as hell haven’t mentioned it. I just have to hope you’re doing this for you and not necessarily for me, or for a pushy Italian guy.”
Blake cares a huge amount. It’s in his tone, and in every syllable of every word, and dammit, I still want to kiss him.
“It’s for me,” I reply crisply, and then this dopey smile takes over.
Blake’s mouth lifts with mine. “What’s that look for?”
I release a breath, my eyes falling to my hand fiddling with the forkful of meat on the grill as I speak. “Because, no matter how close I may get to Gio, or anyone, it’s always easiest talking to you. I’m not scared to tell you what I want; instead I actually want to tell you. Maybe that day at your photo shoot I was tempted to throw a hissy fit at what happened, but now I’m thankful. It’s fun. It makes me feel sorta . . . free.”
“I love you,” he blurts out.
I fling my stare up to see Blake devouring me with his gaze, wrapping me up in a warm, effortless blanket of love with just that look before he continues, “I like you free. I like that I might’ve had a hand in something as simple as making you feel that way.”
I move to pour us more sake before the grin I can’t fight embarrasses me anymore. “You make me feel free. You make me better.”
“It works both ways, babe.”
We drink more of the sake, and the warm burn finally feels thrilling instead of awkward as it settles in my veins.