Chapter 18
The sound of the door creaking open rips me out of my dream state, putting me on high alert.
I listen, trying to visualize the potential threat moving toward me.
No noise would mean a burner, sneaking in like a mouse in search of cheese.
Labored breathing and the dragging of feet would mean a biter.
A gurgled moan circulates the room and a rancid smell sears into my nostrils, making my eyes water. I bite my tongue to avoid gagging or giving away my presence.
I’ll have one shot at this, one surprise attack I can execute, unarmed, to try to save my life.
I feel the air shift around me, so I know it’s less than a few feet away.
In an instant I roll to my other side, flinging the blankets off me as I ready my leg to swing as hard as I can and take the creature’s legs out from under it.
But I was wrong. The biter isn’t feet away from me—it’s on top of me.
Already midlunge, the gaping maw of a monster closes in on my face, leaving me no time to react.
Its teeth sink into my nose, and my mouth immediately fills with blood as I let out a painful, gurgled scream.
“Casey! Casey!” A hand gently shakes my shoulder, rousing me from my nightmare. “Shh. It’s okay.”
I turn to see Blake kneeling beside my bed, his eyes filled with concern.
“What’s going on?” I ask, still confused as to what’s real and what isn’t.
“You had a nightmare. You were screaming and flailing in your sleep,” he says, and I can’t help but notice that his palm is pressed against my cheek, his fingers gently caressing my skin. I’d push him away, but it’s comforting.
“Sorry,” I say, unsure whether I should be embarrassed or relieved that it was a dream.
“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe with me.”
I look into his eyes, and I can see the myriad of meanings behind his words, dancing around as he takes me in.
“Blake.”
“Shh. It’s okay. You don’t have to worry.”
He pushes a piece of loose hair behind my ear, and his fingers trace my cheek and chin. My heart races, and I hope it’s not loud enough for him to hear it hammering in my chest.
“I’m not. I mean, not anymore,” I whisper, barely able to admit how safe I feel with him.
Adrenaline courses through my veins, making me feel both nervous and relaxed, like I could fall asleep in his arms or spend the rest of the night awake, exploring every inch of him.
Blake leans in a little closer, brushing a finger across my lips, which are already pushed out, searching for moisture.
One more millimeter and there’s no going back from—
My bedsheets are violently ripped off me, jarring me awake in a most unpleasant manner.
A shiver runs through my sleeping body as it’s exposed to the cold air, and I moan in protest, flailing my arms in search of the now missing warmth.
I was still asleep, still dreaming. But why in the hell was I dreaming about Blake Morrison?
“Blake, give them back!” I haven’t even opened my eyes to confirm he’s the one who yanked them away, but I have a solid feeling.
“Rise and shine, Doomsday. We’ve got training to do.” He lightly pats his hands all over me, playing my body like a bongo, strategically skipping over my ass. His fingers graze across a sliver of my exposed lower back, sending a tingle up my spine.
He stops his bongo solo, crosses the room, his boots clomping across the hardwood floor. The curtain hooks scrape against the rod as he throws the drapes open. I wince reflexively, expecting a flood of light to hit my eyelids, but it doesn’t.
I crack one eye open and glance at the window to see that the aperture is still filled to the edges with black.
The sun hasn’t even risen yet. Standing in front of it, Blake pulls off his T-shirt, tossing it on his bed.
My eyes skim over his well-defined shoulders and back, tracing the Navy Seal symbol inked into his skin.
I have to admit he’s nice to look at . .
. when he’s not speaking, of course. Blake picks up a gray sweatshirt and starts to thread his arms through the sleeves.
“Like what you see?” he asks without even looking at me.
My cheeks warm in embarrassment, and I quickly snag my blankets from the floor and cocoon myself with them.
“You coming?” he asks, sounding as though he’s standing right over me.
When I don’t respond, he heads toward the door and calls out, “Suit yourself, Pearson,” before leaving the room.
Sweet relief. My brain is quick to capitalize on the opportunity for more sleep and starts to power all my systems back down like slipping into a warm bath. Just as I drift off, a cold, wet shock rips through my body, like the paddles of a defibrillator levitating me off my bed.
“What the fuck!?” I yell, wiping water out of my eyes and gasping to catch my breath. Blake stands over me, holding a cup that I’m sure is now empty.
He grins. “Whoops, I must have tripped.”
“You’re dead.” I spring out of bed, chasing after him.
He turns and heads for the door, but before he’s able to pivot and exit the room, I shove him.
The plastic cup falls to the floor, bouncing a couple of times before rolling to the center of the room.
I grip a handful of his shirt, and I can feel his heartbeat while I have him pressed up against the wall.
My face is only a few inches away from his, and he stares back at me but doesn’t say a word.
It’s like he’s evaluating the situation.
I notice his grin has tapered, replaced by a more serious look, and I don’t think I like it.
In a flash, he grabs my forearm and pulls me into him, quickly spinning around and pinning me to the wall. My breath hitches as my back thuds against it, causing my lungs to lose some air. I raise my hand to shove him away, but he takes hold of my wrist, restraining it above my head.
He leans in and whispers, “Looks like our training has already begun.” His hot breath brushes across my skin, stirring up a memory I’ve long pushed aside.
“You sure it’s okay that I’m here?” I glanced over at seventeen-year-old Blake as he tossed a log on the firepit, causing the glowing embers to float in the cool night air. Even through the hoodie he was wearing, I could still see the curves of his muscular arms.
“Yeah, my dad won’t be home till late,” he said.
Blake had called me an hour ago, asking if I wanted to come over and have a picnic with him.
I told him it was late, that picnics were a daytime thing.
To which he said, “There are no rules when it comes to picnics.” I couldn’t help but laugh, and I raced to get ready, rushing right over to see him.
Six weeks ago, I could barely stand to look at Blake.
But now, I couldn’t look away. He was like a sweet craving I was trying to resist, my mouth watering at the very thought of him.
Something about Blake changed the summer before senior year.
He came back a totally different person—at least to me.
His insults were replaced with compliments.
His cruel pranks replaced with tenderness.
And the wall I built around myself to keep people like him out was slowly crumbling.
Blake took a seat on the blanket he laid out for us, his shoulder pressing up against mine.
Although I was cold, I felt warm next to him, and it had nothing to do with the fire dancing in front of us.
My heart raced. I had noticed it beat a little faster when he was around.
Blake unpacked a tote bag he carried out here, pulling out two Dr Peppers, a Tupperware container, and a sleeve of Ritz crackers.
“Would you like some charcuterie?” Blake grinned. He removed the lid, revealing a stack of Kraft singles and a mound of assorted lunch meats.
I raised a brow. “You call that charcuterie?”
“I do.” He nodded, holding the container in front of me. “I even unwrapped the Kraft singles.”
“Very fancy of you.” I smiled and plucked out a piece of cheese and a slice of ham.
He did the same and said, “Bon appétit,” before popping them in his mouth.
I nibbled at mine and watched him as he snacked and stared happily at the fire.
It felt like this was Blake’s comfort zone, his safe space, a place that he could just be himself—out here at night, alone, beneath the stars with a flickering fire.
I couldn’t help but feel lucky that he wanted to share it with me.
My skin tingled like there was an electric current beneath it, begging to be touched.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I reached for Blake, turning his head toward me and meeting his tender gaze.
There were things I wanted more in life, but not in that moment.
It was just him, the boy I’d once hated with a passion—but the hatred was gone and all that was left was passion.
I pressed my lips against his, and I knew instantly that the wall I had built around myself was all but ruins now.
I shake away the memory, the one that happened so long ago, it feels like it didn’t happen at all. Staring back at Blake with narrowed eyes, I lift my chin, challenging him.
“You call this training?” I say.
With my free hand I drive a closed fist into his kidney, causing him to stumble back a step, but just before he does, I hook my foot behind his ankle.
He trips over it and falls backward, taking me to the floor with him.
His back hits just before his neck and head snap in response, but he’s unfazed.
Blake stares at me with amusement as I lie on top of him.
He raises a brow. “Is that all you got?”
Before I can get a word out, he bucks me off by thrusting his hips up into me. I tumble to the side, attempting to scramble away, but he’s on top of me in an instant, straddling my waist and pinning my arms above my head. I squirm and struggle to get free, but he’s far too strong.
“Get off of me, Blake,” I say with less conviction in my voice than I intended.