Chapter Twenty-Two Blake
Chapter Twenty-Two
Blake
Marshall and Heath were waiting for me when I left my second class for the day. Both fell in step with me. Marshall put his arm around my shoulders. “Roommate.”
I said back, “Housemate.”
Heath glanced at my books and grunted. “Ironic.”
I shot him a look and hugged my ethics of law textbook closer to my chest. It was an elective and my second class. Cognitive psych was next.
Marshall’s eyes flicked down, only making a humming sound. “Yes. Anyways, as I was saying—”
Heath added, dryly, “You only said roommate. You didn’t say anything else.”
Marshall gave him an aggrieved look, his arm tightening around my shoulders, and he leaned a little bit on me.
He raised his voice, ignoring Heath. “As I was saying, roommate. There’s this thing tonight.
A fight night at a local place. Heath has the hookup, and one of our buddies is going to fight, but we sort of need a date to get in.
It’s a whole policy they have in place. I think it’s to make sure enough women get in, though they said there was no stipulation on the gender of the date.
Turns out, I need a date.” He flashed me his most welcoming smile and wiggled his eyebrows.
“How about it? Fun excursion on my arm? Take pity on me, roommate.”
Dear god, he had dimples. He was flashing me dimples.
I held up a hand. “Please. Stop.”
Heath burst out laughing before coughing, spasming at his own involuntary response to me.
Marshall ignored him, his head perking up “You’ll go?”
“I—”
He cut me off, grabbing my arm, and tugged me in for a hug. “Great. We’ll leave tonight. It’s a late-night thing, so we should be there by eleven. Dress for a nightclub. This will be awesome.”
I had no idea what I didn’t agree to just now, but Marshall was already off, focused on his phone.
Heath had gotten over his coughing fit. He lingered, a slight twitch to his mouth before he left, following behind Marshall. I was certain I heard him utter under his mouth, “This will be interesting.”
Interesting.
Wonderful.
I did the time math in my head and winced. I’d be cutting it close after my shift at the foster center.
I stayed an hour after the lounge closed because one of the foster kids’ pickup never showed.
Volunteering to take him to their home, I only left once I was certain that he was actually safe.
He reassured me. The foster mom and dad also reassured me.
Some of the other kids who were still awake—some were doing homework, a couple others were watching a movie—all reassured me, too, but I didn’t move from watching the house across the street.
The mom kept apologizing, saying that she forgot and her phone died.
Maybe. I’m sure someone in the house had a phone she could’ve used.
My gut still rolled over and over again until the side door opened.
The boy I’d brought home came out, along with one of the older girls.
They hurried across the street, coming to me.
“Miss Blake.” The boy was a little out of breath, running as fast as he could toward me across the road. I searched his eyes, but he wasn’t haunted. At least not tonight. “I’ll be fine. I promise. Miss Sherry isn’t like that.”
He knew that I knew what he meant. When he and the others in the center met me tonight, I’d shared with them my history. All of them visibly relaxed. They got it. I was one of them. Had been one of them. I got it.
He nudged the girl, who rolled her eyes, but added, “What he said. Sherry’s forgetful.
She’s a ditz sometimes, and this one forgets to save our numbers in the phone he has so he doesn’t know who to call.
And he won’t because he doesn’t want to be embarrassed if he accidentally calls someone he doesn’t want to call. ”
He huffed. “Everyone’s numbers change. It gets confusing.”
She nudged him back, a fond expression on her face.
“So just change the number the next time you get our new numbers. It’s better to be able to contact us than not.
Next time, Miss Blake might not be working and be able to make sure you get back safely.
” She glanced my way. “Thank you again. He told me a little about you, explained why you were still watching the house. He’s fine. I don’t know if he ate at the center—”
“He did.”
“I did! We made spaghetti. They let us use the kitchen. It’s real nice. You should come next time, too, Cap.”
Cap had that fond look on her face again. “Maybe.” It went away when she said to me, “Anyways, thank you. Malik will be there again, I’m sure.”
They returned, with Malik giving me a small wave over his shoulder. Cap bent down, saying something to him, and he giggled before both disappeared inside again.
My phone buzzed.
Taking it out, I saw a text from Palma and one from Marshall.
I didn’t even want to check the time. I knew I was so late.
Palma: Where are you??? We’re here. There are so many hot guys here. You need to come, woman. Come. As in literal and well. . . The other literal way too. Okay. Just kidding on that one. They have these purple drinks that are deadly. They’re delish. You’ll see when you finally get here. Get here!
Marshall: I was able to get in without a date, but are you still coming?
It was almost eleven.
I did the math in my head and knew my lateness would be ridiculous. That was if I took the subway. Uh . . . I did have an alternative option for traveling.
I glanced to my left.
A guy unglued himself from some shadows and approached. Footsteps sounded deftly on the sidewalk.
It was Creighton’s watcher, and I waited as he stepped close enough to scan my phone screen, seeing the text messages.
“I can have a vehicle here in five minutes.”
Of course he could because Creighton’s army was literally anywhere.
Worrying about Malik and keeping old memories at bay had taken a toll on me.
“Thanks.”
I gave in.