A trio of female students approaches us. They all gawk at Blake. One of them trips on the sidewalk and giggles.
I don’t blame them. Blake is insanely hot.
He’ssotall. Almost 6’5”. And he’s in incredible shape. Even through the Hollis U Men’s Hockey T-shirt he’s wearing, it’s obvious how ripped he is.
He’s not huge. More lean than bulky, which makes sense since he’s the fastest left winger on the school’s hockey team.
He looks more like a hot surfer than a hockey player, with his shaggy, golden-blond hair, perfect teeth, and boyishly handsome smile.
Everywhere I go with him, women and men are constantly staring at him. Me included.
One of the women walking by looks down at our joined hands. She looks up at me and mouths, “So lucky.” Her two friends giggle as they pass us.
My face heats, and I can’t help the small burst of pride that shoots through me. A second later, it fades. This is so silly. I have no right to feel that way. Blake isn’t even mine.
I wish he was though.
I look up at him. He’s gazing straight ahead, totally oblivious. He didn’t even notice those three girls checking him out. He hardly ever notices when anyone checks him out. It’s one of the reasons I’m attracted to him. He has no idea how insanely handsome he is.
He gives my hand a squeeze before he lets go and tugs on the front of his shirt. I hold in a whine at the loss of contact. I love it when he holds my hand. I love the way his massive palm swallows up my entire hand.
When we cross the street and turn the corner, Blake suddenly stops walking and looks at me expectantly.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks.
I frown, confused. “What are you…”
I trail off as he moves to the other side, between me and the street. He starts to smile. “I always walk between you and the street.”
A wide grin splits my face. “Oh. Right.”
We start walking toward the taco stand, which is at the end of the block.
“You’re such a gentleman,” I tease.
“It’s common decency,” Blake says.
“Not all guys do that.”
“They should. What if there’s a car that loses control and hops onto the sidewalk? Or what if a crazed cyclist decides to start riding like a maniac on the curb? That’s what I’m here for. To be your meat shield.”
I laugh so hard, I almost trip. “Meat shield?”
He grins proudly. “Yeah. You’ve never heard that before?”
I shake my head, still laughing.
When I finally stop, I wipe my eyes. “Blake, I think if some rogue semi-truck hopped the curb, we’d both be goners.”
“Nope. I’d push you out of the way.”
Tingles glide through my chest. This is why I have a massive crush on Blake Morrissey. He’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. Yeah, he’s hot, but he’s also kind and protective and funny. No one makes me laugh harder than him. No one makes me feel this safe and comfortable—like I can be myself, always.
I’ve liked him since the day I met him freshman year of high school. The first few months we were friends, I was hoping he’d ask me out. But he never did. At first, I thought it was because he was shy. But he never made a move.
Looking back, I could have asked him out first, but I was so timid and awkward as a fourteen-year-old. When he never did, I figured it was because he didn’t like me in that way. He just wanted to be friends.
I was disappointed, but I was happy to have him as a friend. And that’s what we’ve been to each other for the past seven years: best friends.
