18. Blair
18
Blair
N ot only do I get the pleasure of being turned down—again. I now have to be embarrassed about the fact that my big brother had to jump to my rescue and save me. While I should be grateful, I can’t say I’m thrilled about Miles seeing me like this. I’m twenty-eight, for God’s sake—one would think I’d finally be capable of taking care of myself by now.
“So, are you going to explain what that was all about?” Miles asks, clearly not in the mood to waste any time.
With a casual shrug, I shake his arm from my shoulder and make my way over to the couch. As I collapse onto the cushions, I let out a muffled ‘oof’ . You’d think I’d have learned by now that this thing is anything but comfortable. “You really need a new couch,” I complain, my features scrunching in annoyance.
“Nice try, but you’re not changing the subject,” he says, sitting down, and leaving the spot in the middle open. At least I can be grateful for some semblance of space, I suppose.
“Well, have you ever thought that I’d perhaps be more willing to open up if I wasn’t sitting in pain? I’m pretty sure I just bruised my ass.”
He rolls his eyes as his lips shift into an amused grin. “Well, considering you’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass my entire life, consider us even now.”
“Ha, ha!” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm and devoid of any amusement. “You know you love me.”
“I do, which is exactly why I’m concerned about how I just saw you running away from Mr. Nice Guy Hastings. That guy couldn’t hurt a fly, which is why I’m wondering what in the hell he could have done to have you doing everything in your power to get away from him so quickly.”
I sigh, just as Bubba, my brother’s overweight bulldog, pokes his head out of the main bedroom and slowly makes his way to join me on the couch. “He is a nice guy, and perhaps that’s the problem.” I shrug, looking down at the white and brown spotted bulldog as he cuddles in close, resting his head on my lap.
“Yeah, sorry, kid. I’m not exactly following. How is him being the nice guy a problem?” he asks, reaching over to give the dog’s backside a few small and loving pats.
“We all know I’m the messed-up white trash girl, and despite trying to fit in with the mayor’s daughter and the sheriff’s son, I’ve never been able to shake my reputation. I’ve never been good enough for any of them.”
His brows furrow. “Please don’t tell me you’re still feeding into that bullshit, and please don’t tell me that Ford said any of that tonight, because if he did…”
I interrupt, since clearly I’m only making things worse. “No, he didn’t, and he never would. It’s me. I know where I stand, and I’m the one who messed things up—like usual.”
“I’m lost,” he says, shaking his head as he tries to keep up, but is clearly failing. “Just tell me what the hell happened tonight.”
Covering my face with my palm, I release a small groan of frustration. This isn’t exactly a conversation I want to be having with anyone, let alone my brother, but I also know he isn’t about to let this go. Plus, I feel like I need to talk to someone about this, and since I don’t want to worry Ronnie with my drama, this feels like my only option.
“He kissed me, and then I kissed him, and then he ended it. I mean, obviously, he regrets it, and I get it. I’m a mess, and I’m not sticking around, so what’s the point?” I ask, throwing my hand up in the air, causing Bubba to jump as he lifts his head and tilts it up in confusion. “Even so, that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”
As Miles looks torn between confusion and annoyance, there’s a small flicker of understanding that takes over as he slowly nods his head. “So you two finally did something about those feelings of yours after all these years, huh?”
Now it’s my turn to be taken aback as I wrinkle my nose. “What?”
An annoyingly smug grin crosses his features. “You two were never fooling anybody. It was so obvious that you had feelings for each other. I’m just surprised it’s taken you this long to do something about it.”
My cheeks warm with color, but not for the reason he probably assumes, as I’m unfortunately reminded of the first time I tried to do something about it on Ford’s wedding day. However, despite my willingness to open up about being kissed and ultimately rejected, I’m not yet ready to reveal the details of the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done. I can’t even imagine what his take on that would be, and honestly, I’d rather never know.
“Does it really even matter at this point?” I ask, doing my best to shrug him off as I run my fingers over Bubba’s soft fur. “He ended things, and I’m leaving in just over a week. I’m just so tired of thinking about this, and I’m ready to let go and finally be done with this drama once and for all.”
He lets out a small laugh as he drapes his arm over the back of the couch. “Fat chance of that. You know you’re going to obsess over this all night.”
I stick my tongue out at him before carefully removing Bubba’s paws from my lap and stand up with a satisfied huff. “Little do you know. Because, if anything, I plan to have the best sleep of my entire life. I mean, we kissed, so what?” I shrug as I walk toward the guest room where all my stuff has strategically been thrown about the room. “Now I can move on and let this old and silly crush officially die out for good. Adios! Sayonara!” I call behind me as I lift a hand and wave before doing the same with the other.
“Good luck with that,” Miles calls one last time before I shut the door behind me.
Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the door and groan. He’s right—there’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.
“Ugh,” I groan, my muffled voice escaping into my pillow as I press it firmly against my face. Unlike the couch in the living room, the bed at Miles’ place is like sinking into a soft and fluffy cloud, enveloping me in its comforting embrace, yet somehow, sleep still evades me.
Normally, when I go out and drink, I peacefully pass out, but this time, just as my annoying older brother predicted, I’m wide awake, tossing and turning. Reluctantly, I let out a huff of air as I fumble through the darkness to reach for my phone.
I squint against the intense brightness, my whining growing even louder as I check the time. It’s two-fucking-thirty in the morning. I should go out and see if my brother has any melatonin or maybe even some Nyquil, because at this point, I’m desperate for sleep. Is it too much to ask for at least a few hours of peaceful rest so I can finally let go and escape this nightmare of an evening once and for all, even if it is only for a few measly hours?
I’m even more desperate since I’m supposed to be meeting Ronnie for breakfast tomorrow before helping her put together the wedding favors. I need my beauty sleep, especially since she’ll definitely be able to tell something is wrong when I show up with dark circles under my eyes that are bigger than Mount Everest. God, what is wrong with me? Why can’t I just be there for my best friend without making something about me?
I’m sure the blue light from my phone isn’t going to help, and I really should go and look for something to put me to sleep, but instead of doing just that, my fingers scroll through my screen until I end up in my texts and pull up in my last communication with Ford. I immediately type “I’m sorry,” but before I can hit send, I delete the message and type in something else.
Blair: You awake?
Not wanting to overthink it, I hit send as a wave of panic washes over me. Of course, he’s not awake. I’m the only idiot who’s stupid enough to overthink everything.
The irresistible urge to hurl my phone across the room consumes me, but just as I’m about to give in, three bubbles materialize. So maybe I’m not the only one awake, tormenting myself over our disaster of an evening.
With a jolt, I sit up straight in bed, eyes widening in anticipation. I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to feel right now as my emotions shift between happiness, worry, and confusion. My gaze remains fixated on the three small bubbles, teasing me as they repeatedly disappear before suddenly resurfacing. Looks like I’m not the only one obsessing over what happened and how the hell we’re going to talk this through.
Finally, his message appears.
Ford: I’m so sorry, Blair.
Ford: The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you. You have no idea how hard it was for me to pull away from that kiss. Don’t think for even one second it was because I wanted to.
Getting confirmation that he didn’t entirely want to end things brings some relief, but it doesn’t change the fact that he ultimately did. Before I have the chance to reply, three more bubbles appear as he continues typing away. Lifting my hand, I nervously nibble on the edge of my thumbnail, a horrible habit, especially since I’d only just gotten a fresh manicure a few days ago.
Ford: Ever since we kissed that first time, I’ve dreamed about what it would be like to kiss you again, and while it was mind-blowing and everything I’d ever imagined it would be, I also didn’t want it to be something you’d regret. I also know you were drinking earlier, and I just panicked. I can’t be the guy that takes advantage of you in a weak moment. If we kiss again, I need it to be when you are fully clear-headed and know without a shadow of a doubt that it’s something you want.
My breath catches, and a flutter runs through me as I read his message. Okay, so maybe it’s still slightly annoying that he ended things since that kiss was anything but a drunken mistake, but at least it shows he still cares. It also shows that he’s still the same Ford I fell in love with when we were kids—his genuine kindness and unwavering protectiveness remain. He’s always had a special knack for looking out for others, particularly me.
Before I can type out a reply, he once again beats me to it. “ Come on, Ford ,” I mumble to myself as I toss my head back in frustration.
Ford : So what do you think? Do you think it’s possible that I’ll get a second chance?
I bite my bottom lip as it tugs up into a smile. Hell, we aren’t even in the same room and the guy has me blushing.
Blair: That depends…
Ford: On what?
Blair: How much begging you plan to do for my forgiveness
Ford : Oh, so it’s like that, huh? Plus, I was thinking the next time we kissed, it would be you who’d do the begging.
My mouth drops open in pure shock before a pleased, girlish giggle leaves my lips. Who knew my little Ford had it in him? But honestly, I kind of love it.
Blair: I don’t know. Once again, I think that depends.
Ford: On what?
Blair: On whether you’re capable of giving me something to beg for.
Ford: I think you underestimate me, Bennett. They don’t call me Panty Dropper Hastings for nothing.
I laugh out loud, quickly lifting a hand to stifle the giggles. Just because I’ve been unable to sleep doesn’t mean Miles has been cursed with the same problem. The last thing I need to do is wake him up with my flirty texts with the guy I’d been whining to him about only a few hours earlier.
Blair: No one calls you that!
Ford: Maybe not yet, but I think you will be after the next time we’re together
Blair: In your dreams, Hastings!
Ford: Pretty sure it’s you who is going to be seeing me in your dreams tonight.
I raise an eyebrow. Since when did he get so cocky? Not that I dislike it. If anything, I kind of like seeing this side of him, even if I’ve already been in love with the sweeter and softer side of him for years.
Blair: Speaking of dreams, I should probably get some sleep. We’re supposed to be meeting Ronnie tomorrow.
Ford : You’re probably right. I’d say in that case I’ll see you tomorrow, but we both know you’ll be seeing me sooner than that.
I roll my eyes. Although, why do I have the feeling he’s right?
Blair : Goodnight, Ford
Ford: Goodnight, Blair bear