7. Blesk
CHAPTER SEVEN
blesk
My hair whips across my vision as a gust catches it, forcing me to brush it away with one hand while the other holds the crumpled paper with the address. I crane my neck upwards, squinting at the silver numbers mounted beside the entrance. Wrong number. Again.
Thirty minutes later, I freeze mid-step.
Through vast gleaming windows into a marble lobby, a doorman in an all-black suit is visible.
My heart hammers against my ribs, and I fight with my feet to stay still.
I watch a businessman stride confidently through those doors while my reflection wavers indecisively in the glass.
It’s just a thank-you note.
Then I’m leaving.
No harm done.
No rules broken.
Wandering inside, I notice the smiling older man sitting behind a desk. “Good morning, young lady. Who are you here to see?” he asks. He has an odd accent—European laced with an Australian twang. His suit is elegant, and he wears it with a humble confidence.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Words, Blesk. You know, the things we use to communicate? Use one.
“I just want to leave something for someone.” I fidget with my bag. “He won’t be home anyway.”
“What is your name, Miss?” He comes around the desk. “Are you on the visitors’ list?”
“I’m Blesk Bellamy and...Um…” Kill me. I bite down hard on my lower lip while fidgeting with the ends of my hair. “I won’t be on the list.”
Wow—words. Congrats.
“And who are you here to see?”
I blink at him several times before answering. “His name is Konnor Slater.”
“Yes, Miss, he is home. I will call him for you.” The corners of his eyes wrinkle when he smiles, and even though I do not fit in here, I find this man welcoming.
Wait—call him?
“Please.” I almost reach for his arm to stop him from walking back to his station. “I just want to leave him something. I don’t want to bother him.”
He stops, raising a brow at me. “Miss Bellamy, he will want to see you. Will you allow me to call him and check?” He nods at me and waits for me to decide.
He will want to see me?
I return his nod.
“Um…”
Last um, oh, my God.
I add, “Okay, thank you.”
When he picks up the phone, my heart fills my ears.
I hadn’t planned on actually seeing Konnor.
My hair is a mess from the wind, my dress is too short, my face is flushed, and my boots...
oh, my stupid boots! I bought them because I always wanted a horse, and all the horse girls have cowboy boots like this.
And these have daisies on them, and the woman at the store looked like she needed a sale, but they are not adult boy-friendly boots.
“Miss Bellamy?” he snaps me out of my pity party.
I look up from my shoes, grinning nervously. “Yes, sir?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, don’t call me sir. I’m Adolf. Just Adolf.”
“Oh, sorry. I’m Blesk. Oh, well, I guess you know that already…”
“Mr Slater has asked that you head up. It is apartment 1002. That is level Ten. Room Two. Here’s a door card for the elevator.”
Though hesitant, I take it. “Thank you.” I look at the plain white card, flipping it over.
I hear Adolf chuckle, probably at me. “He said he would usually come to collect you, Miss Bellamy, but…“ He reaches for an answer. “He can’t this time.”
“That’s fine. I wouldn’t expect him to.” Nodding to myself, I stride past him and head towards the elevators that are flashing with activity at the end of the lobby.
Refusing to analyse how stupid this is, I take one to level ten. When the doors ping open, they reveal a long hallway with deep red carpet. I move quietly, passing various doors until I get to apartment 1002.
I stop and stare at it.
Just knock…
Most people don't need a full internal debate to knock on a door. I’ve been on campus for exactly two days, and in that time, I’ve managed to upset my brother and cause a fight between my brother and his friend, and now I’m stalking my potential tutor.
Like some kind of crazy lady in cowboy boots with childish daisies on them.
After a second, I knock softly, hoping that he won’t hear— The door immediately swings open.
Oh God.
He stands there shirtless. He rubs his damp hair with a towel; tiny beads dot his lashes and face. I can smell his shampoo or soap and him, and I— My gaze involuntarily slides down his torso, over sculpted muscles rippling beneath tanned skin. He is athletic; that’s not a normal person’s physique.
My heart races, my pulse thumping in my ears. I feel warmth creep up my cheeks and know they are pink.
Close your mouth, Blesk!
Tiny beads of water trail through the little tufts of hair from his navel to the seam of his jeans—I gulp. My eyes dart up to meet his—beautiful.
“Blesk, sorry about”—he lowers his arm to his side—“not being better presented.”
Oh, I like your presentation.
High Distinction from me.
I blink at him.
A knowing grin plays on his lips. “Are you checking me out, Miss Bellamy?”
“Oh my God! No. I just wanted to give you this.” I hand him the envelope. Actually, I throw it at him.
“Please, come inside.” He waves me in.
I find myself inside his apartment before I've decided to move. Furniture divides the space into sections. From my spot, I can faintly make out a bed behind a towering bookcase. With actual books. I want to edge over there and explore them, touch the spines and dive into their depths. I don’t.
Can’t. That would be odd. To the right of the bookcase, a door hints at a bathroom.
The lounge area sits across from me, and I hesitate, shuffling by the door.
“Want a drink?” He strides over to the kitchen where he pours himself a drink.
Glass. Brown drink. Ice.
I don’t know where that memory comes from, but my breath catches. I shake it away. “I really didn’t want to disturb you. I just wanted to thank you for the harmonica.” I take a step closer to him.
His eyes stay glued on me as he throws back a mouthful of his drink. “You’re not disturbing me. What’s with the formalities, Blesk? Feeling weird about being here?”
I giggle, and that makes him smile. Two perfect dimples appear on either side of his lips—everything about him is inexplicably comforting.
“Is it that obvious?” I ask.
He rounds the kitchen bench and stands beside me. “Is it because I might be your tutor, or because Erik Bellamy told you to stay away from me?”
“A bit from column A and a bit from column B.” I tuck my lip between my teeth and chew on it nervously.
He laughs. “Fuck both columns. Erik can get over it. You’re not a child, Blesk.”
I don’t want to discuss Erik. “So fraternising with your students is fine at this university?”
Konnor strolls over to the lounge area and slumps down on the couch. He nods towards the empty cushion beside him. “Please, sit with me.” He drapes an arm over the backrest and tucks his knee up to one side. “Define fraternising?”
“You aren’t my English teacher, Mr Slater.”
“It’s probably frowned upon. But... we’re close to the same age.” His eyes follow me as I cross the room and sit on the single recliner. A coffee table separates us, a fantasy novel with a dragon on the cover lies on top.
One side of his mouth lifts. “So? Did you like it?”
I look up at him. “I haven’t read it.”
He laughs. “The harmonica.”
I beam. “Yes.”
“Good.” He takes another swig of his drink.
“So, what do I need to do to get a High Distinction?”
He leans forward and grins. “I’ll get back to you.”
I smile. Then, noticing the glazed look in his eyes, my expression drops. My eyes shift to the glass in his hand; the brown liquid sloshes up the edges, nearly spilling over.
“Konnor…” I shuffle, gaze checking the door, instinctively noting the exit before I say, “Are you drunk?”
“Do I look drunk?”
I frown. “A little.”
He slumps back with a sigh, not angry that I asked. “I am, yeah. I didn’t expect company today, so…” He clicks his tongue. “It’s a drinking kind of day.”
“It’s barely noon.” I search his expression, seeing something else, not an eagerness to get drunk but a need to escape. Was he reading and drinking? I stand, walking around the coffee table to sit beside him.
Through a pained sigh, he puts his drink down, leans his elbows on his knees, and rubs his face with both palms. I know he drinks, but this doesn’t seem—what did Erik call it?
Functional?
“Blesk...” He whispers my name so softly I barely hear it. “I’m sorry. If I had known you were going to be here—“ He winces. “Shit, I’m sorry. Today is a... a bad day for me.”
I can see that. “Why?”
“It’s the death anniversary of a friend.”
A heaviness settles in my lower abdomen. “I’m sorry, Konnor.” We’re practically strangers, yet I care.
When he finally looks across at me, his eyes are glassy with unshed tears, blinking hard. This raw, unguarded moment makes my throat thicken.
He shakes his head. “I tried to sober up for you with a shower, but apparently that didn’t work.”
“It’s not even midday on a Wednesday, Konnor.” I touch his knee. A gesture of affection should feel awkward, especially for me. But with him, it feels completely natural.
He opens his mouth, more to say, then shakes his head, scoffing defensively. “Fucking forget about it, Blesk. Just go home.”
“I’m not judging you.”
He grabs his glass, necks its entire contents, then brushes my hand off him. “Seriously, I’m not your fucking responsibility.”
My lungs squeeze. “I care.” This is concern. Not judgement. “It doesn’t feel right leaving you like this.”
“Don’t make this a thing. Just go.”
His words knock me back. He could have spat at me, and it would have startled me less. I jump to my feet and stride towards the front door. He’s a mess, but he’s right. I should leave. Coming here was a mistake.
I barely know him.
What was I thinking?
“Blesk... Wait.”
I hear the coffee table bump and feet hitting the floor, but I don’t stop until I’m gripping the handle and pulling open the door. His hand slaps against the wood over my shoulder, slamming the door shut. I freeze with him nearly pressed to my back. So close. So warm.
My lips part.
“Have I fucked this up?” His voice is rough behind me. His heat radiates through my spine. His hand flexes on the door. The sweet scent of bourbon on his breath surrounds me, and I shiver.
Glass. Bit of water...
No. Brown drink next.
“Stop drinking,” I say, “and I’ll stay.”
“Okay.”
I look up at his thick arm over my shoulder, following the defined curves with my eyes as I turn to face him. Now I’m inches from him, caught between him and his door.
I gaze up at him. Meet his eyes. “What do you mean did I fuck this up? What is this?”
His brows furrow, his jaw muscles punching as he says, “This, Blesk.”
There is a this.
With Konnor so close, I can’t escape the weight of his presence—how his eyes follow the nervous dart of my tongue across my lower lip, how they seem to bore into me even after I squeeze mine shut against their intensity.
I swallow hard; the sound is loud in my ears. I open my eyes and look up into his. Even through the gloss of intoxication, even with the tiny red tendrils creeping in, they are still the most perfect shade of green. And they’re still unequivocally kind.
Inhaling a long breath, I lift my hand and press my palm to his cheek. He moves into it. We both exhale. He closes his eyes, feeling me, as I stroke my fingertips along his cheekbone, exploring, as if part of me has always longed to.
Finally, his gaze finds me again. “Don’t leave, Blesk. I’m sorry I’m being a dick. I’ll stop drinking right now. Stay.”
I almost smile. “You’re not very corny when you’re drunk, Konnor. It’s rather disappointing.”
Relaxing slightly, he exhales hard through a crooked smile. “I’ll work on that for you, Miss Bellamy.”