How does Blake look so grown up and so different? I wonder as I dry my face with a towel. I quickly sneak into my bedroom and put on a sand colored sweatsuit.
Once I’m done changing, I kick the bunny slippers to the corner of the room and call my brother.
“Hey sis,” Zane says like he usually does.
“How’s your date?” I ask before I explain to him what’s going on.
“Great. What’s up?” he asks.
“I wanted to let you know that you should’ve told me your stupid friend Blake has a key to the apartment as well,” I say. Gesturing frantically. “I was in the middle of my rendition of Dolly Parton when he walked in on me. He is lucky to be still alive, you know?” I tell Zane sassily, though I’m not sure if it’s true. My fight or flight didn’t really kick in when the only thing I could do was threaten that I would call the police.
“I am so sorry. I totally forgot he was going to stop by to pick up some spare blades,” Zane tells me. “I’ll text him not to use his key until you move out, ok? I have to go, but it won’t happen again.”
“That would be great. Any other friends I should know about who have keys?” I ask to lighten the mood with a joke.
“None,” Zane says firmly.
“Ok, good. Enjoy the rest of your date,” I tell him before we hang up. I take a deep breath and make my way back to the living room.
When I step into the room, I half expect Blake to stand frozen in the hallway. Instead, he has made himself comfortable on the couch and got himself a beer.
“Green isn’t your natural color?” he asks, feigning shock. I try to keep a straight face.
“I see you’re comfortable,” I say as I stare at the couch and the beer in an obvious way.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” Blake counters, and I roll my eyes. I grab my beer from the table and sit on the white chair next to the couch.
“You don’t recognize me?” I ask, and Blake tilts his head.
“I do, but your voice is prettier than mine,” Blake says playfully, and I sigh and roll my eyes again.
“So youdorecognize me?” I ask, confused.
“Without the green face paint I do,” Blake says confidently.
“It’s a face mask. Not face paint. No one voluntarily wears face paint while sitting around the house,” I laugh.
“You were different back then,” Blake concludes.
“Ehm… Thanks?” I say as I take a sip.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way. You just looked like a kid the last time I saw you, I guess,” Blake tries to defend himself.
“Well, you were blonde and tiny,” I counter.
“I was not tiny,” Blake immediately responds, and I laugh.
“Yes, you were, I was taller than you were,” I go on as I try to recall better what he looked like. Zane and I hung out with different crowds; the only time I really saw Blake was on the ice.
“If that helps you sleep at night,” Blake says as he crosses his arms.
“So what were you doing here?” I ask as Blake keeps his eyes locked onto me.
“I needed spare blades. Mine are worn out, and I couldn’t get a delivery in on time,” he explains.
“So you still skate?” I ask, and Blake tilts his head in confusion.
“You have gone to our games before,” he says, and I chuckle.
