29
Lexi
I walk out of my bathroom to a tangle of muscular, peachy-tan limbs in my bed. Blake’s chest is bare, and while the comforter covers his lower half, I’d bet good money he hasn’t bothered putting on anything down there since our latest round of sex ended just over an hour ago either.
I pause for a second, letting my gaze linger on him longer than I probably should. He looks so at ease, so utterly Blake, that something stirs inside me—something I can’t quite name and don’t know if I want to examine too closely.
I’ll admit it—spending time with Blake isn’t research anymore. It’s something else entirely that feels too big, too abstract, and too subjective for me to wrap my brain around just yet.
All I know is that he’s different . Not just from other guys or relationships past, but from the world at large from my place on “the spectrum.”
He doesn’t leave me feeling drained or overstimulated the way most people do, instead, filling me with longing and a quiet ache I’m not used to and don’t know how to make sense of.
There’s no logic to lean on, no data to analyze, just emotions I don’t know how to control, swirling around in a way that excites and intrigues and outright terrifies me.
He’s the one person who manages to sneak past all my defenses, the one who makes me laugh more, smile more, feel more. And yet, I keep telling myself I’ll deal with it later, that for now, I can be content to enjoy the companionship at no cost to myself or anyone else.
It’s a lie.
For every action, there’s a reaction, and my actions, while self-serving right now, will have consequences I’m wholly unprepared to face. I’m too smart not to know it.
But being smart doesn’t protect you from willful ignorance, a human compulsion I’m manifesting in spades these days.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Blake asks, pulling me out of my own head and crashing me straight into the present.
“I always have a lot of thoughts,” I reply, and he grins, shifting to rest his back against my headboard. He folds his arms behind his head, the movement effortless yet impossible to miss. The flex of his biceps draws my eye, a not-so-subtle reminder of just how much time he’s spent perfecting his throw.
Statistically, if I had to estimate, I’d say Blake Boden has thrown at least ten thousand passes in his life. Though, to be fair, that’s purely speculative based on some quick math of averages. To know the exact number, I’d need every detail of his practices, training sessions, and games from the moment he first held a football. And something tells me even Blake wouldn’t know that number.
“And you’re still having lots of thoughts,” Blake teases, his grin turning into an amused smile that’s directed solely at me.
I glance down at my feet, my mind still spinning with how one person has managed to take up so much space in my brain. It’s…confusing. I normally reserve that space for data.
When I realize I’m still standing here, at the threshold of my bathroom door with Blake watching me curiously, I force myself to change the subject of my thoughts entirely. “And you’re looking very comfortable in my bed.”
“I am.” He waggles his brows. “I really like your bed. Especially when you’re in it too.” He pats the open spot beside him, even adjusts the comforter to give me room to climb in. “How about you join me?”
Describing a man as adorable feels like it goes against the societal pressure to see men as men, but I can’t deny that Blake’s boyish grin is looking all kinds of adorable right now. It’s an attractive look, but at the same time, it makes me feel like I’m going into battle without any armor.
“You look like you’re planning to stay the night,” I remark, climbing back into my bed beside him. I adjust his T-shirt that is currently covering my body over my bare butt as I do.
“Of course, Lexi. Thanks for asking. I’d love to spend the night with you.”
I snort. “That wasn’t an invite.”
“It wasn’t?” he questions and wraps his arm around my shoulders, tucking me close to his side. “Are you sure?”
I roll my eyes, looking up to meet his gaze as I do. “You’re going to have to learn some new tricks, little puppy dog. Most girls use their memory as a superpower.”
“I don’t care about girls .”
I flash him a pointed look.
“Well, at least not anymore.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Lexi Lou Winslow is the only girl I care about now.”
“I think you’re spouting bullshit, Blake,” I challenge him. “It’s a known fact of life that men enjoy looking at other women. Even married men.”
“Enjoying seeing a pretty girl pass by and only wanting to be with one beautiful girl are two different things, Lex.”
“You really think I’m beautiful?” I ask, searching his eyes closely as I do. I’ve heard him say that word in the heat of the moment, but this feels different for some reason. I know I have aesthetically pleasing features, but I’ve never been very busy with my looks. I let my mom choose my clothes and how I’d wear my hair, and when I was sixteen and getting ready to go to prom with Connor, I even let her do my makeup.
When I started college, I repeated her routine, step by step, just as she’d taught me. I know hair and makeup and clothes are big priorities for most women my age, but they’re not even on my radar.
“It’d be easy to say yes here, Lex, but fuck if that truly conveys what I’m trying to say at all. And yet, I don’t know if you’re ready to hear how I really feel about you.”
A strange sensation fills my chest, even vibrating like a rocket down to my belly and my toes. It’s such an off-putting feeling that I have to swallow hard against it just to find my equilibrium again.
I kind of want to forget this conversation altogether, but something deep down is urging me to ask.
“Well, ready or not, it’s out there now, I think. So, Blake…how do you feel about me?”
“Lexi…” Blake searches my eyes for a long moment. He even presses a kiss to the top of my head, his lips brushing against my hair as he does. “I think you’re the most beautiful, intelligent, intriguing, amazing woman I’ve ever met in my life. I don’t think there’s anyone on this continent, or any other, who could rival you in any or all those things. I think you are the sum of greatness in human form, and I find myself increasingly desperate, every fucking day, to convince you to be mine.”
“You want me to be your girlfriend?”
He laughs, a dry, quick rebuttal to the simplicity of my statement. “More than anything .”
“I…don’t know what to say to that,” I say, but my voice is so quiet I can hardly hear it over the hard pounding of my heart.
“Say you want to be official, out in the open, where everyone knows that you’re my girl and I’m your guy.”
“Blake.” My voice is a whisper.
“You don’t need to say anything right now. I know you well enough to know you need time to process.” Blake smiles down at me, reaching up to brush a rogue piece of hair behind my ear. “Just think about it.”
My brain takes his edict as permission, diving right into an in-depth analysis.
Blake is four years younger than me. He’s still in college. After this summer is over, I’ll be done with college and starting whatever career path I end up choosing. Our lives are entirely disproportionate in almost every aspect, and yet, I feel happiest when I’m with him.
There are so many things I want to do and accomplish—so many goals I’m setting out to achieve—and I’ve already proven Blake is more than a simple distraction I can brush off.
I have a feeling I could spend the rest of the night creating a spreadsheet that weighs out all the pros and cons, and it still wouldn’t be enough to be conclusive.
“And while you’re thinking on it,” Blake says, pulling my attention back to him. “Why don’t you lie back and relax, and let your body feel.”
“Feel?”
“Feel.”
When he puts his mouth to my clit, the thoughts in my head vanish in a dramatic poof of nothingness.
Just as he intended, all I can do is feel.