Chapter 19
19
BLAKE, 1998
17 years old
In one sharp motion, Beverly shoved herself off of me, nearly knocking over the table in her rush to escape.
I clenched my jaw, tilting my head back against the couch as I exhaled slowly, willing the tension in my body to go with it.
It didn’t.
Tiffany was still standing in the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other clutching her drink like she’d just walked in on a crime scene. “What in God’s name did I just witness?”
Beverly stood frozen, her chest rising and falling a little too fast, as if she hadn’t fully processed what we’d just done. “I?—”
Tiffany snorted, her eyes flicking between us like she was taking notes. “Girl, you had me fooled. You said you were just gonna drink tonight, but no—” She pointed a finger at Beverly, then at me. “Turns out you were over here seducing our favorite nerd.”
Beverly, trying to look unbothered despite her cheeks turning an impressive shade of red, scowled. “I wasn’t?—”
“Oh, don’t you dare try to downplay this,” Tiffany interrupted. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like?—”
Beverly cut her off with a loud huff, grabbed her drink off the table, and downed the rest of it in one go. A terrible idea, considering she was already unsteady.
As if things couldn’t get worse, Jamal appeared in the doorway a second later.
Tiffany whipped around. “Oh, perfect timing. Guess what? Bev just gave Blake a mini lap dance.”
Jamal choked on his own breath. “I’m sorry, what ?”
Beverly shot Tiffany a look that could’ve killed a man.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tiffany said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Would you prefer I call it an ‘emotionally charged display of sexual tension in the form of dance?’” She leaned in, eyes sparkling with pure chaos. “Did he feel good, Bev?”
Beverly, now beet-red, let out a strangled sound. “Tiff?—”
“Did he smell g?—”
Jamal cleared his throat.
“Blake.” His voice was low, like he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or deeply concerned. “Buddy.”
I rubbed a hand down my face.
I needed to get out of this conversation. Immediately.
I needed to leave before I did something reckless. Before I ruined everything. Before I dragged Beverly back into my lap and let my hands wander the way I wanted to.
But I was still sitting there, heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
Get a grip, Blake. I forced myself to stand, my body still burning from where her hands had been. I felt like a fool. I was no better than that bleach-blond idiot, letting my emotions drive me like a car without brakes.
I needed distance. I needed air.
But Tiffany wasn’t done.
“So,” she drawled, looking between us like she was about to start taking bets. “Are you two going to talk about it, or are we all just going to pretend that didn’t just happen?”
I just shrugged—it saved me from talking.
The problem with Tiffany was that she latched onto words and never stopped moving her lips.
If you said nothing, she had nothing to work with.
“Don’t you dare ignore me,” she chided, narrowing her eyes.
I rolled my shoulders, forcing myself to look as unaffected as possible. “Nothing happened.”
Her jaw dropped in disbelief. “Nothing happened? Nothing happened? Blake, I have eyes?—”
“You heard me,” I said, already heading toward the back door.
Jamal materialized at my side, letting out a low whistle as he followed me. “So…that just happened? She really danced on you?”
I said nothing, because if I opened my mouth, I didn’t trust what would come out.
Jamal, being Jamal, didn’t care. He just kept going.
“I mean, damn,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw like he was contemplating something truly profound. “That’s, like?—”
I gritted my teeth, keeping my jaw locked tight. “Jamal.”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
He leaned in, dropping his voice like he was about to tell me some deep, life-changing secret. “So…are you going to do something about it? Or are you just going to sit around like a loser while some other dude sweeps her off her feet?”
My heart raced as a bitter, ugly sensation began to rise in my throat, clawing its way up and demanding to be released.
How could he put it so bluntly?
“Uh,” Jamal said, glancing toward the back door as I stepped toward it. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” I replied tersely.
“Home?” he repeated. “Blake, you can’t just leave.”
“Watch me.”
“Alright, fine,” he huffed. “Let’s go, I’ll drive.”
“I’m walking.”
He blinked. “You’re what?”
“I’m walking home,” I clarified.
He shot me a look like I’d completely lost my mind. “Blake, it’s minimum an hour walk from here to your place. What kind of dumbass walks home alone at this hour?”
“This kind.”
Jamal let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his temples like I was giving him an actual headache.
Ignoring him, I grabbed the door handle.
“At least let me drive you.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “You’re staying.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re driving the girls home later.”
His lips parted, like he wanted to argue, but then something seemed to click in his brain. “They biked here, didn’t they?”
“Yeah,” I muttered, trying to shake the tension out of my shoulders. “Make sure they don’t leave without you. Beverly’s not driving home drunk on a bike.”
Jamal gave me a long look, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, alright. Go ahead, be dramatic. You had your little religious experience, and now you’re making a pilgrimage back home to reflect on all your sins. But you better not get murdered out there, ‘cause I’m not explaining that to your dad. Imagine what?—”
I pulled open the door and stepped outside before I could hear whatever smartass comment Jamal had locked and loaded.
The night air was cool, but my skin still burned.
The party noise dulled slightly, but not enough.
I kept walking, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides as I tried to shake off the lingering heat from Beverly’s touch.
Nothing happened…
I wasn’t lying. Not really.
Because nothing was supposed to happen.
Nothing could ever happen.
Even if, right now, all I wanted was to pull Beverly back to me and finish what she started.
But I wouldn’t.
Because I was Blake.
And Beverly was the one thing in this world I couldn’t have.