Oh, crap.
His dad closed his eyes and shook his head as a small smile curved at the corner of his lips. He opened his eyes and stared at Blake.
“Oh, come on. We both know I don’t need this school.”
“She might.” He walked toward me, reached out his hand. There was a slight tremble, and I wondered if he had a mild Parkinson.
I grabbed his warm hand.
“Nice to meet you, Elena. My name is Robert, and I’m Blake’s father.”
“You already know my name,” I said, and Blake chuckled.
“I told you, you are stuck with me.”
His dad grinned and let go of my hand. “Can I get you guys something to eat?”
“Nope.” Blake opened the top of the cupboard in the kitchen and took out a party size crisp pack and a coke from the fridge. He poured two glasses before putting the coke back in the fridge.
With the packet of crisp under his arm and the cokes in his hand, I followed him up a fancy staircase.
His father spoke to him in another language, which he chuckled and said something back.
He speaks a different language?
I walked in first to his room as he waited by the door. It was quite neat for a boy.
His bed was enormous, with dark and gray bedding. Framed pictures of the friends at a party he already attended with a class schedule hang from a cork board.
A rug broke the wooden floorboards. He had a freaking walk-in closet.
My eyes landed on an energy drink on top of his desk in front of the window with the mother of a beanbag in the corner.
He put the two cokes on the table. My heart bounced inside my chest, and Blake grinned at me.
“Why are you grinning like that?”
“Nothing, here.” He handed me the one coke, and I sipped as my eyes landed on a dark blue hoodie hanging from a hook behind his door.
“Sit,” he said.
“Yes, boss.” I took off my coat as it was warm in his room. He put his glass of coke on the night table and pulled off his coat, too. My eyes grew as his muscles pressed against the seams.
I plopped into the chair in front of his desk as hot flushes rolled off my body. My eyes skidded to the content of my glass.
This guy was seriously beautiful.
“So you speak another language?” I hoped my hormones were going to stay under control. His dad was here, so I doubted the thought crossed his mind.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Which is?”
“An ancient dialect of Latin.”
My eyebrows curved. “Latin, huh.”
He smiled fiddling with his radio and soft music played from the speakers. He walked over to me.
