8. Blesk
CHAPTER EIGHT
blesk
We talk about the book on the coffee table—The Witcher meets Viking—but Konnor deteriorates as the minutes tick by. His eyes grow glassy, his speech slurring even as he switches to water like he promised.
He doesn’t protest when I slide the glass towards him. I will stay if he stops drinking. So here we are, both keeping our word, as if bargains between strangers could really be this uncomplicated.
He has a girlfriend.
I shouldn’t be here.
I fidget with my shirt, glancing at the door.
Every sensible instinct inside me says, go, Blesk.
Only… another part of me finds that unbearable.
I know—he’s hardly more than a stranger, with a girlfriend waiting somewhere, no less.
But the way his hands shake when he reaches for his glass of water, the haunted look behind his eyes... Fuck. I can’t leave him like this.
When he trips over in the kitchen, intent on making lunch, I convince him to lie down and rest in bed. “Just rest.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He stumbles to the bed, lies down, and that’s it. His eyes close the moment his spine meets the mattress.
I sigh, gazing down at him.
While his lashes are fanned across his cheeks and his breaths are deep and even, I prepare myself to leave, but before I can stop myself, I brush my fingers through his hair. A kind of goodbye—you'll be okay. “I’ll come back and check on you.”
"Stay.”
I feel that word in my bones.
Girlfriend, Blesk.
He has a girlfriend.
But I can be his friend. "Okay."
I crawl up onto the bed beside him.
We lie on his mattress, facing each other, our knees pressed together. My hair cascades around me, and he suddenly reaches for it. Twirling the strands around his fingers, he stares at them as if in a kind of trance. He’s back there— with the person he lost. I understand that look.
I can’t explain what’s happening or why I have this urge to be with him or why I feel responsible for him... But I do.
His eyes lift to mine. “The sun... Your hair reminds me of the sun.”
“That’s really corny, Konnor.”
He splutters a laugh. “Haven’t you heard? It’s my new middle name?”
“Konnor 'Corny' Slater.” I giggle.
A wide drunken smile takes over his face. “God, I love it when you make that sound.”
I immediately giggle again, purely from nerves. And now we are both grinning like fools, and neither of us does a thing to hide it. He’s back here—with me.
“You’re beautiful, you know that,” he gushes. “And I’m a dickhead like acting.”
I giggle at his backwards sentence. “Yeah. But this isn’t you. This is a hiccup.”
He cocks a brow. “And how would you know that? Maybe this is me. Maybe this has always been me. This… drunk. Lost. Left.”
My belly clenches. Lost? Left? I swallow over a lump and meet his gaze. “You haven’t disappointed me yet, Konnor,” I offer, refusing to fight the force making it impossible to take my eyes off him.
He chuckles. “Well, you mustn’t have set the bar very high for me.”
I bite my lip and speak through a silly smile. “All you have to do is show up.”
“And I’ll be—”
“Impressed,” I finish.
Konnor Slater.
You gorgeous, drunken idiot.
A knock at the door breaks through our world. We both freeze, narrowing our eyes questioningly at each other.
Something lurches in my chest when his eyes widen in realisation. He jolts up, grabbing his head with a groan. No, no, no. Don’t be Erik. Don’t be—
“Konnor!” A girl’s voice barks through the door.
My cheeks drain of blood.
“I don’t like waiting!”
“Shit!” On the floor, he scavenges around for a shirt. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Pembie.
He slides a black shirt over his head before turning to look at me, guilt written across his face. My insides churn, but I act nonchalant with a quick shrug and a feigned smile.
He isn’t buying it.
A sick feeling spreads through me, my lower lip wobbling as I try to keep that feigned smile. I need my head examined. What kind of girl visits a guy she barely knows? Who is involved with someone else?
“Konnor! For God’s sake.” Pembie bashes harder on the door.
He offers me a hand up, but I wave him off dismissively. Getting up, I slowly follow him into the living room. I don’t want to be touched right now. Konnor half-runs, half-stumbles to the door and unlocks it.
As Pembie barges in with a huff, Konnor lowers his head, his eyes meeting his feet. She halts when she sees me standing by the sofa, smoothing my skirt down.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Pembie rocks back on her heels, studying me from head to toe. “What’s going on here then?”
“Blesk was... dropping something off.” Konnor turns, gesturing towards the envelope on his couch.
My eyes sting with the need to cry. He barely looks at her, but he offers me an apologetic glance. And I wish he hadn’t, because I don't want him to see me tearing up.
This was a huge mistake.
She sneers at him, her eyes scanning his body, clearly disgusted by his appearance. By every crease in his clothes. By his messy hair. “You’re drunk again? Why do I put up with this?”
“Yep.” He waves his hand indifferently. “Why do you?”
Her eyes rake over me once more, one corner of her mouth lifting into a smile that says I’m nothing but an inconvenience she’s about to destroy. My stomach drops—I recognize that look from every mean girl who ever decided I was in her way. She hates me.
In one smooth movement, she grabs the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head.
She isn’t wearing a bra. I’m so shocked that my mouth drops open.
I’m frozen in place, staring at her perfectly sculpted torso, muscular abdomen, tan skin, and shapely breasts, far too perfect to be real, or maybe that’s jealousy speaking.
She tosses the shirt at him. “Well, if you’re drunk, lover, I’ll go on top while you bite my shoulder.” She winks at me. “Just the way he likes.”
I feel sick.
Konnor rubs his temples, growling under his breath. "Fucksake."
She approaches him, her naked toned torso moving seductively, and even though he's shaking his head at her with a scowl, there might be a mixture of anger and lust in his eyes.
"What?" she teases him.
"Put your fucking shirt back on," he orders, training his eyes on hers.
Her hand presses to his cheek, and she whispers something in his ear that seems to physically hurt him.
As his jaw muscles work hard, he stares at me over her shoulder. And I don’t know what I expect him to do. For him to push her away? For him to react? No. I mean, he could barely form words a few minutes ago. She's going to seduce him, and that's all there is to it.
I watch her drag her fingers down his chest and grab him between the legs. Her eyes find mine over her shoulder, lips curling with victory.
Bile rises in my throat.
I need to get out of here. Without further hesitation, I rush towards the door. My hands are trembling as I reach for the handle.
"Blesk, wait!”
I don't.
Before I know it, I’m literally running towards the elevator.
My stomach is twisting into knots, tears spilling from my eyes.
I repeatedly hit the elevator button. Again.
Again. I don't know why I'm reacting like this because he owes me nothing.
Less than nothing. I'm a complete stranger to him.
But something about him… something about him confuses me. Like I was someone else for a moment.
No, it’s just like Erik said. I’ve surrendered to his charm. He is full of himself. Knows he’s good. That'd be just like me to allow another man to manipulate me.
The thought comes unbidden.
Angrier now, I hit the button harder and harder even though I know it won’t make a shred of difference.
It finally opens. And when I step inside and turn to face his door, I’m desperate to see Konnor standing in the hallway. Alone. Wanting to talk to me or dragging Pembie out of his apartment by her arm or— The elevator door closes on an empty hallway.