He motions for my phone, and I slip it into his hand.You drove here with me—alone.Blake holds back the grin blooming on his face. If anything I’ve amused him.
I take my phone.I never said I was smart.
“You’re smart.” Blake runs his hand through my hair before typing again.You want it to be special—with the right person—memorable.
Which romance novel taught you that?I ask, trying desperately not to flirt. But I’m flirting, and I don’t care how desperate it comes across.
“This one.” He tucks his fingers to his heart. “I want that for you, too.”
A breath hitches in my throat. Blake wants that for me, too. I float in his words as we watch the sun set in a show of pink and gold until the sky bursts to life in a rich shade of amber.
We drive back to campus in a comfortable silence.
If he asked for that kiss a second time, I would have given it to him.
Blake
The couchat Danny’s fraternity holds the comfort of granite and smells like piss and vomit. I’m pretty sure it has an extensive sexual history and more than likely has transmitted a few exciting diseases all on its own. It’s disgusting as ass crack—not that I’m complaining. The frat boys were nice enough to let me store my crap in their attic, so, at least for now, the Hefty bags that hold what’s left of my brother and me are warm and dry. I’ve used their laundry room, their showers, and raided their fridge a time too many, so any minute now I expect to get the big heave ho.
The band and I played at the Black Bear twice this week, and both times Annie has showed up with her trusty camera. She sits at the same table with her back against the wall, and I’ve grown accustomed to turning toward her when I pour my soul out in song. Turning toward Annie is like turning toward the light. It’s natural. Every inclination in me is to turn my being toward her. She’s pulling something out of me, demons, angels. They’re all in there fighting for dominance over my weary soul, and only Annie can get me where I need to be. Funny, I’ve never gifted a girl that much power before but then again it isn’t really a gift, she just had it. She has me.
My phone rings pulling me out of my momentary trance, and I pluck it out. It’s Wyatt. Him I’ve been avoiding. Not sure why. Hell, I know why. He’s going to ask how I’m doing, and I’ve never been a good liar. I’ve never been good at talking through my feelings or any other shit like that, so I let it go to voicemail. I’ll try to deal with him this weekend.
I shoot a text to Olivia and tell her I’ll be over in an hour. She texts right back.
I’m in town. Meet me at the donut shop on Central. I want a dozen in my stomach yesterday. I’m having a serious craving for something glazed. You have anything you want me to dip in sugar and lick?
I’d laugh if it I knew she weren’t serious.Just a dozen? Pace yourself. See you in a few.
I take a quick shower before examining my arm and back in the fogged mirror. The day we put Benji in the ground is the same day I went over to Sam at Tenacious Tats and had him do me up. I wanted an exact replica of what my brother had—skull and cross bones, ivy dotted with roses running down my body. It was the only way I could think to remember him outside of looking at my own reflection. I wanted more than his face. I wanted a piece of him, something tangible.
It’s cold out, bitter, icy to the bone kind of weather that threatens to turn your limbs into icicles before snapping them in half. I never was good at dressing for the weather with all those layers and jackets. I’d feel like a scarecrow that’s just been stuffed when my mother shoved Ben and me out the door. God, I miss her. I can trace every shit thing that’s happened in my life back to the day they put her in that casket.
Olivia is already seated inside when I arrive. Her fingers dip happily into a pink box, and, judging by the size, she went for more than a dozen. She’s dressed in a black and white polka dot coat with a giant red bow pressed into her dark cherry died hair. For as long as I’ve known her, Olivia has been perfecting that rockabilly look—winged eyeliner, bright red lips, the victory roll in her hair when she can nail it.
“Hey—you look beautiful,” I say as she stands to greet me. Olivia is pretty, not stunning like Annie, but she can make just about anyone look twice despite her growing belly. “Look at you. God, it’s been two weeks, and you’re out like a torpedo.”
“First one—they say you show later. I’m just glad it’s still in there for the ride, you know what I mean?” She growls out the words like maybe she’s kidding. We’ve been down this road before, so I don’t say anything. Olivia has had her fair share of scares. She pulls me into a tight embrace. After the funeral, Olivia and I clung to one another for far too long, and I was worried we might fall back into old habits. It would have been easy, me with Olivia again, but, thankfully, Annie showed up, and the fleeting thought left me. I was never into Olivia like I should have been. We were using one another, trying to see who could hurt each other the most, and, now, there’s a baby who will be here by Christmas. The list of tragedies in our story seems never ending.
I take a seat across from her. “So what’s the news? Baby doing good?”
“Too good.” She moves a little slower adjusting herself with a look of general discomfort. “Everything’s on track. I’m over halfway through, and it still feels like I’ve been pregnant for two years. And before you ask, no I haven’t smoked one damn cigarette.” She shoves a donut into her face as retribution.
“Good. I don’t want those cancer sticks near you or your baby.”
Her eyes narrow in on mine as she slows her chewing. She washes down her bite with the opened carton of milk in front of her.
“This is your kid, buddy.” Olivia doesn’t blink. This is poker. Me against Olivia, and we both know the hands we’ve been dealt. “That’s the deal, remember?”
A dull laugh huffs through me. “That’s the deal.” I promised to raise this child on my own, and I intend to. Olivia isn’t exactly gunning for mother of the year even in this early stage of the game. “When the time comes, I’m there for the both of you.” I pull out a wad of bills from my pocket—what would have been my rent. “Just like I’m here for the two of you now.”
“If our track record persists, given enough time, you’ll end up breaking both our hearts.” She flicks a finger in the air. “We both know you’re the heart breaking type.” Her lips invert, and for the first time since the funeral, I see a modicum of pain in her eyes. “You ever think about you and me?”
“Yeah, I have.” I reach over and take up her hands in mine. “Look—um, there isn’t going to be a you and me.” I try to dish the words out as tenderly as possible. Olivia has been known for her mood swings, but her hormones have transformed her into a nuclear missile ready and willing to detonate on command. It happens regularly, but I’m never ready for it.
“What do you mean, sweet pea?” She spits the words out laced with venom. There’s a look of vengeance brewing in her eyes. “I need you, babe. You loved me once, you can do it again.” She leaves out the part about loving me, and a tiny smile cinches up my cheek. That’s Olivia all over.
Despite her cold, black heart, I was hoping she might find it in her to love this baby. Every child needs a mother, and, deep down, I was hoping Olivia could rise to the occasion. As much as she’s professed this child as a curse, I’m pretty sure once it arrives and she sees it for the angel it is, the curse of pain in her life will be broken.
