Chapter 22 Blake
BLAKE
I NEVER BELIEVED ANY OF those romantic notions about one kiss having the power to knock the earth off its axis. A kiss so world-changing, so soul-fueling, that you feel a cosmic shift right down to the marrow in your bones. When in one heart-stopping moment, you just feel…complete.
If you’d asked me before last night if a kiss like that existed, I would’ve said, “God no.” I would’ve laughed and told you that sounds like a silly schoolgirl fantasy.
Joke’s on me.
That kiss and I are now well acquainted.
In fact, I can never go back to regular kissing now, not after Wyatt Graham shattered my entire kissing worldview.
I feel almost sick. Not emotionally but physically, like I have a fever. My breathing is shallow, and I feel flushed, even hours after the fact. A part of me feels changed, which is so ludicrous because it was just one kiss.
Not only that, but it was a “mistake.” At least according to Wyatt.
With him, everything is a mistake.
Flirting? Mistake.
Kissing? Mistake.
Staying up all night pouring our hearts out to each other, letting our insecurities spill out? Big mistake.
His mixed signals make my head spin like a carousel. They’re exhausting.
I sit at the kitchen counter stewing about it, wishing he would make sense for once in his stupid musician life.
Instead, he spews things like “I’m going to ruin you” and then kisses me like the world is ending and I’m his salvation.
He says “We can’t go there” and then admits he’s been shutting down his feelings for me for years.
He lied to me on Christmas morning.
He looked me in the eye, donned a blank expression, and pretended he didn’t remember what happened on that counter.
Dick.
I turn toward the doorway when I hear his footsteps. He’s fresh out of the shower, dark hair damp and curling behind his ears. He’s wearing joggers and a white T-shirt, his feet bare.
“Morning,” I say, then lower my gaze to my breakfast. “There’re hard-boiled eggs and tomato slices in the fridge if you want.”
He nods at that but makes no move toward the fridge. “Can we talk about last night?”
“What’s there to talk about? It was a mistake, isn’t that what you said?”
Tension lines his shoulders as he prepares himself a cup of coffee. He doesn’t join me at the counter, leaning against the sink instead.
“I was drinking.” He sounds regretful.
“Yeah. You’re always drinking.” I pop a tomato slice in my mouth and chew.
“I told you it helps with my insomnia.”
“Is that why you get started before noon?” I can’t keep the mocking note from my voice.
I’m not trying to be an asshole, but I woke up this morning with zero fucks, as evidenced by my no-holds-barred responses to Isaac’s bullshit messages.
And I’m tired of Wyatt’s excuses. “I saw you crack open a beer at eleven yesterday. In fact, since I got here, you’ve had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. ”
His expression is one of wry amusement. “So the smoking is a problem for you too now?”
“No. It’s your life, Wyatt. But just so you know, chicks don’t love it.”
“Never had any complaints before.”
“Then they’re lying to you.” I shake my head irritably. “Either way, I don’t care. If you want to give yourself lung cancer, go for it. If you want to be the living embodiment of the drunk rock star cliché, knock yourself out.”
Sliding off the breakfast stool, I pick up my empty plate and march toward him.
“Move,” I snap.
He stiffens for a beat before stepping out of the way to let me use the sink.
“Here’s the thing,” I tell him as I rinse my plate. “I’ve officially reached the point of not caring what you do or why you do it. So as of right now, we’re going back to the ground rules we established when I first got here. You stay the hell out of my way, and I stay the hell out of yours.”
“But it was a good kiss?”
I glare at Annaliese from across the booth. We’re at a sports bar in Tahoe City, and I just told her everything that happened last night, including how Wyatt blamed our kiss on being drunk and insisted it was a huge mistake, and all she’s taken away from this is that the kiss was good?
“It was a great kiss,” I grumble. “A magnificent kiss. But apparently it was a mistake.”
She brushes that off. “Bullshit. That’s just a cope.”
“My cope or his cope?”
“His cope. Listen, Logan. A man doesn’t passionately kiss you on a roof at midnight because he’s had a few beers.
He wanted to kiss you. The only reason he’s backpedaling now is because that’s what fuckboys do.
They feel something deeper than just their dick twitching, and suddenly the commitment apocalypse is looming over them, and they run. ”
“And, what, I’m supposed to chase him?”
“Fuck no. We don’t chase. We attract.” Shrugging, Annaliese grabs the last couple french fries on her plate and pops them into her mouth. “If we want them, we do things to make them chase us.”
“I don’t like playing games.”
She grins. “Games are fun.”
I sigh and pick up the vodka cranberry I’m still shocked the bartender served me without asking for ID. I have my fake one if needed, but it’s rare I don’t get carded, especially in a family town like Tahoe.
“No, they’re not fun,” I finally answer. “I don’t want these weird mind games. I don’t want to chase or be chased. All I want is someone who makes their intentions clear.”
Not someone who kisses me and then cries about it afterward.
And certainly not someone who stays with me for almost three years while secretly thinking I’m the most boring, least passionate woman on the planet.
Isaac’s words continue to prickle at me.
To sting. But deep down, I know there’s some truth to them.
I loved him, but I didn’t crave him. And he didn’t crave me.
Maybe he did at first, with all the love bombing, but once he won me over, his enthusiasm waned.
When we were in bed together, Isaac never looked at me like…
like he might die if he couldn’t have me.
“Okay, then let’s find that someone,” Annaliese declares. She twists in the booth and surveys the bar. “Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but… It’s like a firefighter porn in here.”
I did not notice, but now I do. I realize the counter is littered with young men and several women in navy-blue fire department shirts and sweats.
I see a lot of roped forearms and defined biceps, probably honed from long days at the academy, and all the guys are loud and boisterous, shouting and laughing as they loiter at the bar and pool tables.
“Why are they all so young?” I ask Annaliese.
“Oh, it’s the recruit class. My brother’s there too.” She nods toward the end of the bar, where a cute guy with big dimples chats with two other fire cadets.
“Eddie wants to be a firefighter?” I say in surprise.
“Yup, and don’t even get me started. This fool was in college. Did two years and then boom—drops out and enrolls in the fire academy. My parents almost had simultaneous cardiac arrests when he told them.” Annaliese waves at the group. “Edward!” she calls. “Come say hi to your sister!”
Breaking away from the group, Eddie strides over to our booth. Last time I saw him, he had a wild head of hair, but it’s all been shaved off, giving him a clean-cut, professional air now. He greets us with a broad smile, slinging his arm around his sister in a side hug.
“Do you remember Blake?” Annaliese asks him.
His brown eyes brighten when they meet mine. “Oh, hey. Yes. Beau’s cousin.”
“Well, not cousin, but we’re really close, yeah.” I grin at his shirt. “How’s the fire academy?”
He grimaces. “Ugh, we had the worst day. They made us run a hose advance, like, a million times.”
“What’s a hose advance?” I ask curiously.
Eddie groans and rubs the back of his neck. “Okay, so picture dragging an anaconda the size of a tree trunk and it’s thrashing around, full of water, while you’re crawling on your knees in fifty pounds of gear. Oh, and the anaconda hates you.”
Annaliese and I burst out laughing. “That sounds awful,” I inform him.
“You have no idea. By the end of the day, my arms were shaking so bad I couldn’t even open a water bottle.
Had to get Dave to do it for me.” He glances across the bar and signals to the friends he abandoned, gesturing for them to join us.
“You gotta hear about this prank Mikey pulled on our instructor today. Mikey, get over here!”
Three guys amble up to our booth, one of them instantly catching my attention. He’s not super tall, but he’s got a great body, a crooked smile, and flirtatious blue eyes. Eddie introduces him as Dave.
As he slides in next to me, he checks me out, but not in a creepy way.
I check him out too, also not in a creepy way.
Annaliese doesn’t miss the current of awareness that travels between us. Her lips curve in a smile.
“So,” she says brightly. “Shots?”