Chapter Thirteen
Adrian
T im has mentioned the neighborhood he lives in a couple of times, so I drive in silence until I’m at the light to turn into it. “I’ll need directions from here,” I glance over at Blake.
She’s doing that anxious thing where she taps her fingers to her thumb, and this isn’t the first time I’ve noticed it today. The few days we’re both scheduled, we almost always end up working the same shifts. So, I’ve seen her a few times since we got dinner about a week and a half ago. Unfortunately I can’t say I’ve made as much progress as I would’ve hoped.
But today was different. Blake wasn’t her usual guarded, aloof self or her normally awkward, quirky one. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Blake truly have a bad day. I assume it started before we got to work, and from what I saw, it only progressively got worse as the day went on.
“It’s the eighth right,” her quiet voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “Apricot Lane.”
I haven’t wanted to test my luck. It feels like that’s all I do with this girl—push for more without pushing for too much .
Plus, I’m not someone who is uncomfortable with silence.
The tapping grows faster as she stares out of the passenger window. “Are you okay?” I ask quietly, not wanting to startle or upset her.
She nods, staying silent until I’m turning onto her street. Without looking at me she says, “It’s the one with the orange tree.” I recognize her dad’s car outside, but I don’t say anything. “And I’m fine. It just feels… I don’t know. Embarrassing? I live with my parents.” She gestures toward the house.
I’m not convinced that’s all that’s wrong, but it’s a lot more vulnerable than I would’ve expected from her.
It doesn’t matter to me whether she lives with her parents, or that she’s not in college, or that she doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life. Because I agree, it’s totally okay and understandable to take a few years off if you aren’t sure what’s next.
It makes me feel protective of her. Not totally in a friendly way either.
“I know that. I knew that before I offered you a ride. It’s not a surprise, Blake. And it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” She shrugs and looks out the windshield with a blank expression. “Before I moved out here, I was living with my parents. I moved back in with them immediately after graduation. You’re eighteen—”
“Almost nineteen,” she quickly cuts in with a coy glance my way.
Trying to rein in my grin, I continue, “You’re working, plus I know you do shit on the side too.” Blake picks up random shifts at the flower shop when they need extra help, and in the last two weeks, I’ve seen four different moms ask if she’d be willing to babysit for them. She always says yes. “And you live with your parents.” I shrug. “I’m twenty-two, have a college degree, and not only did I move back in with my parents for a while, but they help pay my rent. Like, all of it.”
Slowly, she nods and gives me an unsure look.
We sit in silence again, this time looking at each other, shamelessly taking in the other’s features. Her brows stay a little furrowed, and there’s the ever-present downturn to her lips I’d give anything to lift. But right now, all I can do is offer her a small smile that I hope gives her at least a little bit of comfort.
She has a cute heart shaped face with full cheekbones and a permanent pout that only highlights the deep pink of her lips. Her raven black hair contrasts her smooth pale complexion beautifully, especially under the sunset.
I love her eyes the most. It’s so cliche, I know. And that’s exactly why I’ve never allowed myself to tell her that—she’d never let me live it down. It’s true though.
They’re light gray and moody. Her gaze is sharp but when she looks at you, it feels like she’s really looking at you.
They’ve reminded me of a summer thunderstorm since the night at the grocery store. It’s why the nickname slipped out earlier. It’d been on the tip of my tongue since The Loop. The more I get to know her, the more I realize that the imagery is perfect for her in more ways than just physical.
After a minute, a pair of headlights pull us from the moment we’re sharing. Chuckling at Blake’s groan of misery, I assume it’s her mom getting home. And when the car stops and the woman with the same eyes and heart-shaped face walks out, I know I’m right.
If it weren’t for the mocha brown hair and her light golden brown skin, Blake would be almost a mirror image of her mom. Selena is effortlessly and agelessly beautiful. But the way Selena’s eyes and Tim’s dark hair mixed is flawless . Maybe that has more to do with the actual human they created and raised, but even a month later, I know I’ve never seen someone prettier than Blake.
Selena looks momentarily confused before it morphs into the joy you only see on a meddling mother’s face. She leaves her car door open and walks to the passenger window of mine.
With a warm smile, she knocks on the window.
Blake turns to look at her but doesn’t roll it down. Selena’s eyes flick toward me, and I shift in my seat.
She knocks again, saying something to Blake in Spanish. I remember enough from my beginner courses to pick up the word window and based on her tone, I think she’s telling Blake to lower it.
My eyes move to Blake, waiting to see what she does. I’ve only heard Blake speak Spanish a few times, but I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t turn me on every time. Who cares if she’s talking about a dog’s bowel movements if she sounds like a fucking angel doing it?
She says something back to her mom. It’s quick and a little snarky from her tone, though I don’t exactly know what. My guess would be something along the lines of ‘go away.’
Selena talks too quickly and scolds Blake. I’m immediately lost but I understand Blake Carmen.
Oof , the dreaded middle name. I understand that tone too. It’s the universal sound of a mother telling you she’s done with your shit.
This time Blake rolls her eyes and presses the down button.
“Hi, Blake.” Tilting her head to look around Blake, she adds, “Hi, Adrian.”
“Hey, Mrs. Miller.” I give her a wave.
Blake snorts and Selena looks amused. “I’ve already told you that Selena will do fine.” Turning back to Blake, her face grows concerned. “Where’s your car?”
“Two flat tires,” Blake mumbles.
An expression I don’t know how to read crosses Selena’s face, and she asks quietly, “What happened? Is everything okay?”
Blake glances at me, then down at her lap. “Yes, Mom,” she quietly mutters before adding what I assume is a quick explanation in Spanish. “I think it’s just from driving through that pothole by the clinic.”
“You’re sure? It wasn’t—” But she’s cut off before finishing the question. Confused, I glance at the girl in my passenger seat.
Blake gives her a sharp look and shakes her head once. “ No , Mom.”
Selena watches her daughter for a second before conceding. “Oh, I’m sorry, morrita . Your dad will go to the next council meeting. It needs to get fixed.” Blake just nods but won’t make eye contact with anyone. “Did we miss your call?”
She scoots down further in her seat. “No, I got a ride.” She gestures toward me. “And, Adrian, thanks for that. I’ll just…” She points her thumb over her shoulder toward the house, and I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face “…be going.”
“Don’t be silly,” Selena immediately jumps in. “Adrian, come have dinner with us. Do you like fajitas?”
Blake turns toward me with wide eyes, a clear sign she’s silently begging me to say ‘fuck no.’ But I do like fajitas. And thankfully, her parents like me.
“I do,” I nod and ignore Blake’s death glare, “and I’d love to stay.”
I swear to God her eye twitches while I just keep grinning politely at her mom.
“Great,” Selena beams. “Would you mind helping with the groceries?” She drops the keys in Blake’s lap and walks away without a single bag in her hands.
I follow Blake to the car and grab a majority of the reusable bags before she can. Trudging up the porch steps, I follow her inside and take in their warm, inviting home for the first time. There’s a lot of boxes out with a variety of holiday labels, but it doesn’t detract from the natural comfort of it.
Blake drops the grocery bags onto the kitchen island and whips toward me. “You don’t have to stay,” she whispers. “You can sneak out. I’ll cover for you.”
“Cover for me?” I ask in a normal voice. “What would you say?”
Still whispering, she says, “I don’t know… that your girlfriend called—”
“Don’t have one,” I grin.
“ They don’t know that,” she hisses. “Fine. You actually hate fajitas and didn’t want to be rude.”
“I love them, and I don’t want to back myself into that corner in the future.” Selena’s always bringing food to the clinic, who knows when she’ll stop in with fajitas? And like hell will I miss out on that because Blake wants to kick me out of her house.
“You… pulled a Benji then,” she smirks.
“ Blake ,” my voice is firm which only makes her lips turn up more. It’s such a rare sight that I’d let her tease me endlessly just to see it again. “I’m not going to tell your parents that I fucking shit myself.”
She sucks her lips between her teeth but within seconds she’s laughing. Really laughing. It overtakes her whole body until she actually clutches her stomach. It’s that low rumble that’s distinctly Blake.
“It was worth a shot,” she shrugs.
“What if I had agreed to that?”
She just continues to laugh, not offering me an answer. It’s such a soothing sound, so I just stand there and watch her like an idiot.
“I s Grady coming home this year?” Blake asks hopefully from beside me. A few minutes after she accepted I wasn’t going anywhere, her dad came in to ask me for help at the Blackstone.
I suspect that there were some ulterior motives. I haven’t even found a time to ask Olivia for intel on Blake, but last week she informed me I’m not exactly subtle when it comes to my crush.
However he wasn’t interrogating me like Blake’s father, or interviewing me like Dr. Timothy Miller, DVM. He was just Tim Miller, getting to know me, Adrian Jones. Selena has been pretty much the same.
Even if Blake wasn’t here, I would still want to be. It’s the first time I’ve felt a semblance of home in months. Even if it’s not my home, it’s enough.
Selena shakes her head. “Arielle will be having the baby soon and she’ll need to rest. Your dad and I are getting on a plane as soon as she goes into labor, and we’ll visit again after New Year’s, if you want to go with us.”
Blake scrunches up her nose. I had a feeling she was a homebody—nothing wrong with that—but the way she blanches at the thought gains her a warning look from her mom that says be nice .
“He’ll be visiting toward the end of January,” Tim amends with a soft smile. Blake just nods.
As if on cue, Blake lights up and gives Tim a sweet smile. “I forgot to mention earlier, thanks for the candy.” She’s already looking at her plate again, so she misses the way I stiffen and the look of confusion on her dad’s face.
“What candy?”
I can feel them the second Selena’s knowing eyes land on me. It took her only seconds to put it together—I was the one who left the gift for Blake.
“The lollipop you left on the desk for me this morning.” She’s still looking down at her plate, completely oblivious to the growing tension in the room.
“Oh, uh,” Tim starts, clearly unsure about what to do. He doesn’t want to take the credit for it, but he doesn’t want to throw me under the bus either.
“What?” She finally looks up, glancing around. I clear my throat, and her attention falls on me. She doesn’t say anything for a moment then finally, she breaks the silence. “Adrian, did you get that for me?”
“Yeah,” I shrug, trying my best to act casual. I didn’t think about this when I agreed to stay. I was totally cool with leaving the lollipop for her and moving on. I didn’t need the recognition. Hell, I didn’t want it.
I don’t even know why I stopped at the small market she’s always talking about. When I was driving past it this morning before classes, I thought to myself, I just want to brighten up her Friday a little . But not even I have the balls to say all that in front of her parents. “The little mercado down the road from me sells them. I’ve seen you eat them a few times.”
“The one on 4th and Meadows?” I nod, knowing it’s the only one in Amada Beach that sells the exact brand she loves. I’ve overheard her talking about it with Olivia, but it really is a coincidence that I live on 4th and Palms, only one street up. “Wow,” she blinks. “Thanks, Adrian.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry you had a bad day.”
“It’s okay,” she nonchalantly lifts her shoulders. “It wasn’t all bad, in the end.” She grabs her plate from the table and walks to the sink. All I can do is follow and hope for another minute of time with her, even if that means spending my evening cleaning my boss’s kitchen after a day of classes and work.