12
Saturday, May 31st
Lexi
Twenty-four hours, ten minutes, fifteen seconds…sixteen seconds.
That’s how long I’ve been thinking about Blake Boden and his stupid Chinese-food-tainted kiss without being able to stop, and now I’m outside the entrance to his apartment building on the west side of campus, standing under an umbrella as the rain pelts down on me and wondering where I’m going to go from here.
I look up at the illuminated windows of several floors and then back down at my feet, which are starting to tingle from being so soaked.
Finally decided, I turn around and jog across Broadway, checking first in both directions for cars, and then dip straight in the front door of Brower Center to escape both the weather and my intentions.
A few students are milling around inside the dining room straight ahead, but thankfully, nothing too overwhelming. My nerves are far too stimulated right now to handle a crowd.
I quickly shake out my umbrella and tuck it into the pile of others by the door, and then I pull off my rain jacket and give it a shake as well. Folding it over my arm, I walk toward the double doors and sneak inside, surveying the buffet of food still out from dinner.
None of it sounds good, as my stomach is currently turning itself inside out with worry that I don’t even know who I am anymore, so I settle for a table in the corner and tuck myself away.
Scrolling on my phone, I pull up Netflix and pick out a rom-com to study. One of the first to pop up is called Anyone but You and starts with an awkward encounter in a coffee shop between Glen Powell and Sydney Sweeney. It’s a cute scene full of bumbles and fumbles, and in some weird way, it makes me feel better about my propensity to overthink things.
They end up putting themselves out there and ultimately having the best night together, and I know it’s make-believe. But in some way, it renews my confidence to show up at Blake’s apartment uninvited and see where the night goes.
I grab my phone from the table and do something completely unprecedented—I initiate contact with Blake myself.
Me: What are you up to?
Blake Boden: Just hanging out at home. What about you?
Good. He’s home.
Resolved, I stop the movie and pick up my belongings, slinging my jacket back on and pulling my hair out of the collar. I tuck my phone into my pocket and push my chair into the table, rounding it and stepping out from behind the concealing shrubbery in front. There are a few more people out, but given the lower attendance of summer semester and the late hour, it still isn’t bad.
Back through the door, picking up my umbrella on the way out, I cross Broadway again. Only this time, I go straight to the door of Blake’s building as someone exits, holding the door for me as they do.
“Thanks.”
I head directly for the stairwell and the fourth floor, having memorized his apartment number and location long before giving in to the temptation to come in the first place, and make the slow climb up and through the door at the top. The hallway is long and stark white, the doors painted in an alternating pattern of blue and gold with their number placards at the sides in brushed bronze metal.
Apartment 417 is midway down the hall, on the left-hand side, and the door is navy blue. I pause briefly, setting my umbrella down beside the door and straightening my moisture-frizzed hair self-consciously before lifting a hand and knocking.
I hear a small shift in the sound inside, including Blake’s muffled voice and some shuffling, and then the door swings open to reveal his bare chest and black netted basketball shorts, his phone to his ear. He freezes at the sight of me, his eyes widening just before his whole face melts into a giant smile.
My stomach flips, and I steady my breathing against an onslaught of nerves. “Hey, Ace, I’m gonna have to call you back,” he says, which immediately seals my mouth shut with glue.
I appreciate the heads-up, and when he winks, I know he’s done it on purpose.
“Yeah, yeah. Shh, it’s okay. I’ll hug you later and you’ll feel better.” He laughs so loudly it startles me, and then he rolls his eyes. “Aw, poor baby. I’m sure you’ll find someone to hang with tonight.”
He shakes his head, stepping aside and waving me into the apartment. When I clear the threshold, he shuts the door behind me and locks it.
“Go over to Julia’s, then. She always lets you cry on her shoulder.” He snorts. “Then you should have gone to the Hamptons with her. Don’t even try to tell me she didn’t invite you.” He laughs. “Yep. That’s what I thought.” He shakes his head back and forth and mimes constant blabbing with his hand. “Okay, buddy. Just take a nice warm bath, then. We’ll talk later.”
He pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up, even though I can still hear the shrouded sound of Ace’s complaints on the other end. When I’m sure the call is over, I allow myself to laugh. “He’s a character.”
“I was going to say you have no idea , but I guess that’s stupid since you grew up around him, huh?”
I nod. “Some ridiculousnesses are hereditary. For Ace, that’s one hundred percent true. Both his parents are nutcases. If we could get them to a certified psychiatrist, I’m positive there’d be a diagnosis and commitment to a padded room.”
“So I’ve heard,” Blake agrees, clearing off his duffel bag from his cornflower-blue couch and ushering me to come sit down. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked me why I’m here yet, and it’s throwing me off a little. When I rehearsed this in my head, he started with that question.
When I struggle to get started talking, I end up using my scripted answer even though he hasn’t asked the question. “I thought I’d try my hand at popping in on you like you have a habit of doing to me.”
He smiles. “Great. I love the spontaneity.”
I lick my lips. I wish I could say I’m as convinced.
“So…what are you up to?”
Ugh. Why do I have to make everything sound so cringeworthy?
“Just relaxing. Practice was a double today, so I iced my calves and took a shower and was just trying to decide what to order for dinner. Did you eat yet?”
“Eat?”
“Yes,” he confirms. “Food. Dinner, as it were.”
“Oh, no. I didn’t eat dinner.”
“Cool. Then I can get us both something. Any idea what you’re in the mood for?”
This feels like the perfect opportunity to add in some kind of innuendo-laden suggestion about his penis, but I’m completely out of my depth. How do other women manage to make it sound so natural when they do it?
I cough and clear my throat, clenching my fists and steadying my anxiety the best I can. I came here to do something specific, and now that I’m here, I’m going to do it. “Actually, yes. I was…well, I was thinking I’d like more of what we had last night.”
“Chinese? Okay. Did you want more lo mein and chicken or something else?”
“N-no. I meant…more of something else.”
“The shrimp? Because they were pretty good too.” He searches the coffee table, through a pile of takeout menus, sifting to find the one for the Chinese place, his phone already in hand.
It takes everything inside me, but somehow, I manage to reach out and grab his wrist, stopping him. “No… I… Well, I meant the kiss.”
“Oh.” His face transforms, lifting into a giant smile I just know is full of every egotistical thought on the planet. And still, I find it attractive. Go figure.
“I…well. I thought maybe we could do it a little more.” I shrug. “Just to…see.”
“To research?” he asks, repeating my word from the night of our first kiss.
I nod.
“Okay. And what exactly did you have in mind?”
Even though my hands are sweating and my lips feel dry, I force myself to go through with the plan. This is my chance to put myself out there, like I told my family I would, and if I don’t have the courage to do it now, I’m never going to find it.
“Well…I kind of thought, maybe, we should…have sex.”
Blake chokes a little on his own saliva—at least, as far as I can tell—and comes toward me, effectively tossing his phone back to the surface of the coffee table like it’s a worthless brick.
I swallow thickly as he adjusts himself to sit directly in front of me, his ass on the coffee table, and I struggle to keep eye contact as he presses me. “You think that you, Lexi Winslow, and I, Blake Boden, should have sex?”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to say it like that.”
“Say it like what? I’m just trying to make sure I’m hearing you correctly and not having a stroke.”
“You don’t have to make fun of me.”
He reaches out for my hand, snagging it fiercely and clutching it to his chest with both of his own. “I’m not. Swear, Lex. I would never make fun of you for putting yourself out there like that. I’m just…surprised. You have to understand why. It’s not like you’ve given me more than a passing glance and a flick of your fingers for many, many weeks leading up to this moment, so this is a turnaround. I’m just trying to understand and make sure you’re not asking for something you’ll regret and be angry at me for later on.”
“I’m not totally socially na?ve, Blake. I know you don’t just tell men you want to have sex and then take it back.”
“Yeah, yes. I’d say, generally speaking, that’s true. But what I’m trying to say is that you can take it back, with me, if you want to.”
“I…I don’t want to.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to take it back.”
In fact, to my own shock and horror, when it comes to having sex with Blake, there’s nothing I want more.