His hair is a little messy from the night. His collar is open. His jaw is less tense than it was earlier. There’s something in his expression now that’s softer than the party version of him. Less showy. More deliberate.
“Thank you,” I say finally.
His smile fades into something gentler.“For what?”
“For offering to bring me home.” I glance out the window again.“For not making the whole thing weirder.”
“You did enough weird for everyone.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
That shuts me up.
The cab slows at a light, and I tuck one leg underneath me, turning slightly toward him.
“I didn’t expect that tonight,” I admit.
“The party?”
“The girls. The phones. The way everything changed in one second.” I swallow.“It was awful.”
Blake nods once.“Yeah.”
“But I’m apparently not great at standing still when people act like trash.”
“I noticed.”
“I don’t even know Gwen that well yet.”
“You know enough.”
His voice is low when he says it, and I can’t help but glance at him again.
“She defended me too,” I say softly.“When that blonde girl threw herself at me.”
Blake’s mouth tightens.“I saw.”
“She was shaking.”
“I know.”
We sit with that for a moment.
Then, because the universe refuses to let me stay emotionally balanced for more than thirty seconds at a time, Blake shifts, looks at me, and says:
“So. Date.”
I blink.
“Are you serious right now?”
“Yes.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh.“You are unbelievable.”
“I’m persistent.”
