“Wh—” I blink, tearing my gaze away to find Blake hovering beside me.
“I just wanted to know if you take milk or sugar in your coffee…” He tips his head towards my mobile phone, gripped tightly in my palm. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah.” I nod, jabbing my thumb into the side button and shoving my phone back into my clutch. I’m not sure why, but I don’t want Blake to see the message. I’ll have to wait untilI’m alone to get another glance at it. “Everything’s fine, just a few messages from the girls is all. Could I have two sugars and a splash of milk, please.”
Blake grins. “Coming right up. Is cow’s milk, okay?”
“Fine with me.”
The faux smile on my face drops as soon as Blake heads back into the kitchen. My body hums with adrenaline, blood running both hot and cold until I’m not sure which way is up, and which is down anymore.
One thing is for certain, I’m sure the text message is referring to Blake. It has to be. What otherhedo I have in my life? So, if it’s about Blake, then it must have come from someone who knows us. Someone whose has seen us together…
Whoever it is, they don’t want me to trust Blake.
Which is silly really, because in the short time we’ve skirted around each other, I’m not felt anythingotherthan trust with Blake. He doesn’t pressure me or make me feel unsafe. In fact, I’ve told him things that some of my oldest friends don’t even know. Not because Blake pried them out of me, but because I do feel safe around him, protected even, like I could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge or look at me any differently or try to change who I am.
This whole cryptic message thing is so stupid. Am I still in high school for Christ’s sake?
I shake my head, staring out at the sea of brown moving boxes covering the majority of Blake’s floor space. It’s probably a jealous ex-girlfriend. Maybe she saw the social media stories Blake and I posted of each other last night, although how she got my number—
“Here you go.” Blake pushes a mug into my hands. “Careful, it’s a little hot.”
“Thank you.” I blow upon the liquid, watching it ripple, before I take a tentative sip. “It’s perfect.”
“Good.” He preens under my praise. “I’m going to make us breakfast, don’t move.”
Something sickly sweet coats the back of my tongue, tugging at my heart, making my stomach flip all topsy-turvy.
Whoever sent that text message – ex girlfriend or no – is the stupidest person alive. How on earth could I not trust Blake?
Sandwiched together on his sofa, seeing as how his small dining table is covered in packing peanuts, tape and cardboard boxes, Blake and I each devour a smoothie bowl he whipped us for us, washed down by our cups of coffee
“So,” I tuck my feet up beneath me, gathering a perfect mouthful of berry smoothie, sliced banana and chopped cashews onto my spoon and then inhaling it. “Any grand old plans for Saturday?”
Blake bobs his head, precariously balancing his now empty bowl onto the only space he can find on the cluttered coffee table. I never took him as someone who had clutter, but I guess he has no choice seeing as how he’s going to be moving into his new apartment soon. Nobody ever said packing up and moving was an easy, stress-free and tidy job.
“Packing. The email I got the other day said I could have the keys to my new place in a week or so.”
“Yeah, next Thursday. It was me who sent you that.”
Blake huffs out a laugh. “Of course you did.”
I nudge his corded upper thigh with my big toe. “Hush.”
“What about you?” he asks, catching my ankle in his large hand, just like he did last night. I wonder if he remembers telling me how much he wanted to fuck me while I’m wearing nothing but my heels.
The way his eyes fall half lidded, watching the glide of his thumb trace over my delicate bone, tell me he does.
“What about me what?”
“Do you have any grand plans for today?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Free as a bird, just the way I like it.”
“How do you feel about staying around and helping me pack up, then? I could use an extra set of hands.”
I grin, unable to swallow back my glee even if I wanted to.
