Chapter 18 #2
Frowning, I carefully read the bizarre text message again even as my skin crawls with fear. What the ever-loving fuck is going on?
I tap on the contact details, their profile left blank and the number unrecognizable. Of course. Whoever is cowardly enough to text me something so cryptic instead of telling me to my face, isn’t going to have a profile picture…
“Calla?”
“Wh—” I blink, tearing my gaze away to find Blake hovering beside me.
“I just wanted to know if you take milk or sugar in your coffee…” He tips his head towards my mobile phone, gripped tightly in my palm. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah.” I nod, jabbing my thumb into the side button and shoving my phone back into my clutch.
I’m not sure why, but I don’t want Blake to see the message.
I’ll have to wait until I’m alone to get another glance at it.
“Everything’s fine, just a few messages from the girls is all.
Could I have two sugars and a splash of milk, please. ”
Blake grins. “Coming right up. Is cow’s milk, okay?”
“Fine with me.”
The faux smile on my face drops as soon as Blake heads back into the kitchen. My body hums with adrenaline, blood running both hot and cold until I’m not sure which way is up, and which is down anymore.
One thing is for certain, I’m sure the text message is referring to Blake. It has to be. What other he do I have in my life? So, if it’s about Blake, then it must have come from someone who knows us. Someone whose has seen us together…
Whoever it is, they don’t want me to trust Blake.
Which is silly really, because in the short time we’ve skirted around each other, I’m not felt anything other than trust with Blake.
He doesn’t pressure me or make me feel unsafe.
In fact, I’ve told him things that some of my oldest friends don’t even know.
Not because Blake pried them out of me, but because I do feel safe around him, protected even, like I could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge or look at me any differently or try to change who I am.
This whole cryptic message thing is so stupid. Am I still in high school for Christ’s sake?
I shake my head, staring out at the sea of brown moving boxes covering the majority of Blake’s floor space. It’s probably a jealous ex-girlfriend. Maybe she saw the social media stories Blake and I posted of each other last night, although how she got my number—
“Here you go.” Blake pushes a mug into my hands. “Careful, it’s a little hot.”
“Thank you.” I blow upon the liquid, watching it ripple, before I take a tentative sip. “It’s perfect.”
“Good.” He preens under my praise. “I’m going to make us breakfast, don’t move.”
Something sickly sweet coats the back of my tongue, tugging at my heart, making my stomach flip all topsy-turvy.
Whoever sent that text message – ex girlfriend or no – is the stupidest person alive. How on earth could I not trust Blake?
Sandwiched together on his sofa, seeing as how his small dining table is covered in packing peanuts, tape and cardboard boxes, Blake and I each devour a smoothie bowl he whipped us for us, washed down by our cups of coffee
“So,” I tuck my feet up beneath me, gathering a perfect mouthful of berry smoothie, sliced banana and chopped cashews onto my spoon and then inhaling it. “Any grand old plans for Saturday?”
Blake bobs his head, precariously balancing his now empty bowl onto the only space he can find on the cluttered coffee table.
I never took him as someone who had clutter, but I guess he has no choice seeing as how he’s going to be moving into his new apartment soon.
Nobody ever said packing up and moving was an easy, stress-free and tidy job.
“Packing. The email I got the other day said I could have the keys to my new place in a week or so.”
“Yeah, next Thursday. It was me who sent you that.”
Blake huffs out a laugh. “Of course you did.”
I nudge his corded upper thigh with my big toe. “Hush.”
“What about you?” he asks, catching my ankle in his large hand, just like he did last night. I wonder if he remembers telling me how much he wanted to fuck me while I’m wearing nothing but my heels.
The way his eyes fall half lidded, watching the glide of his thumb trace over my delicate bone, tell me he does.
“What about me what?”
“Do you have any grand plans for today?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Free as a bird, just the way I like it.”
“How do you feel about staying around and helping me pack up, then? I could use an extra set of hands.”
I grin, unable to swallow back my glee even if I wanted to.
“I’d love to.”
Blake’s smile reflects mine. God, why did I ever think I could play pretend with him? Why did I ever think I could ignore my attractive to him, my feelings? Because, right now, it seems fucking impossible. “So, I thought we could start with—”
“What’s in it for me?”
He furrows his brow. “Hm?”
“What’s my incentive?”
“Incentive for what?”
“Helping you pack.”
Blake purses his lips in thought before he answers. “Rewards?”
I peer at him from the corner of my eye. “What kind of rewards?”
“The orgasm kind?”
Still grinning, I jump up from the sofa, placing my hands on my bare hips. “Deal! Where do you want me first?”
I’m sweaty, tired and hungry by the time Blake and I finally lay tape along the last box; the majority of the contents of his apartment packed up into the brown boxes dotted about the place.
Arms sore from packing, sated from the two orgasms he’s wrung from me using nothing but his fingers and his mouth while I lay splayed out for him on the sofa, plus a full tummy from the Chinese food takeaway we ate half an hour ago, not bothering with plates but instead sharing forkfuls from the plastic containers, equals a very tired Calla.
I have to force my eyes to stay open, lids aching, as I raise a cold beer to my lips.
It was Blake’s idea, to have a celebratory drink for getting the job finished, but I think the slight alcohol flowing sluggishly through my bloodstream is only serving to make me even sleepier.
“How do you think McAvoy felt after we left together last night?” Blake asks in between swigs of beer.
I crack open a closed eye to look at him.
“I’m not really sure,” I answer carefully; talking about Thomas is the last thing on my mind. “What do you think?”
“I think he was royally pissed off. So, I’d say our plan is working, wouldn’t you?”
I nod quietly. This might be my tired crankiness talking, but I don’t want to be reminded of our plan, I don’t want to be reminded of Thomas, I don’t want to be reminded that this isn’t real.
That it’s all a fucking hoax.
Suddenly wishing I was in my own space, I throw back the rest of my beer and stand on jelly-like legs, pins and needles beginning to dash through my limbs.
“I’ve been sitting for way too long,” I say, walking a little ways past Blake’s sofa to regain the blood flow. “What time is it?”
“It’s a little before eight.”
“I should get going…”
Blake watches my every move. “If that’s what you’d like.”
I don’t even know what I’d fucking like anymore.
I’m confused and tired and—
“Could I borrow something to wear?”
Blake nods silently, lumbering off to his bedroom and returning with a spare pair of tracksuit bottoms. God, this feels like the very first time we slept together, after our one-night stand, when neither of us knew where we stood or what was about to happen.
Perhaps I’m not the only feeling that way, as Blake returns handing me my underwear and some bottoms and says, “This feels like the first time we slept together. When I had no idea if I’d ever see you again and the idea ate me up inside for weeks.”
“Weeks?”
“Weeks,” he confirms. “I was so angry at myself for not just asking you for your number.”
I shove my legs through the trousers, tightening the drawstring so they don’t fall down. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Always.”
“I wished I’d asked for your number, too.”
Blake laughs lowly, cupping the back of his neck and creating a pretty bulge in his bicep. “We’re a right pair.”
“A match made in heaven,” I agree. “As for seeing me… are you free next Friday?”
Blake bobs his head.
“Do you have a suit?”
“Somewhere in my wardrobe, yeah. Why?”
“There’s a black-tie gala event for work on Friday night. It’ll mainly be schmoozing, but there’ll be a free bar.”
“Will be McAvoy be there?”
“Yeah. It’s his uncle who throws the whole thing, so he’ll definitely be there.”
“It’ll be a good place to rile him up, then.” Blake smirks. “Count me in.”