Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

MOLLY

Of course, I just spilled my orange juice all over myself. What's wrong with me? Why can't I act like a normal person in front of Blake? Running into his bathroom, I use a clean towel to wipe myself up before grabbing another one to soak up the wetness from the carpet.

Hurrying back into the room, I tell him, "I'm so sorry. I know you're not going to believe this, but I've never been this clumsy."

The smirk on his face indicates that he doesn't believe me. And why should he? Not only do I trip nearly every time I seen him, but I jabber on like a lunatic. It all started when I told him I wasn't a lumberjack, and then escalated from there like I've been trying to outdo myself at every turn.

While I clean up my mess, Blake removes my french toast plate. It's swimming in orange juice as well. He replaces it with his omelet. "You can have my eggs."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I ask. "I stormed in here like some jealous girlfriend, and then I ruined your breakfast. You shouldn't even be talking to me."

"I'm nice to you because I like you, Molly. "

"Because we're friends?" I say this as though I mean the exact opposite— mortal enemies.

"Aren't we friends?" Chills erupt at the base of my neck and shoot across the expanse of my head.

"I guess." But I didn't agree to come to these singles gatherings because I was looking for another friend. I came because Blake caught my eye in a big way, and I was hoping he might be open to something more.

Although, the story about his parents was kind of interesting. Maybe Blake wants to start out his next relationship as friends. Maybe he thinks that way it might lead to something permanent.

His phone rings which causes him to jump up and run across the room. Blake looks at the screen before saying, "I need to take this." Then he literally sprints toward the bathroom.

I'm not an eavesdropper by nature, but I'd be lying if I didn't confess to being curious about who Blake's so excited to talk to. Standing up, I walk over to the dresser before looking into the mirror like I'm checking my makeup. Then I lean in so that I'm closer to the bathroom door.

"I don't care what you want, Gillian," I hear him say. "This is no longer working for me."

Gillian? Does Blake have a girlfriend? And if he does, then why is he here? I know he said that whatever is going on between them isn't working, but that doesn't sound like they've already broken up. In which case, he's not free to look for her replacement.

Giving up the pretense of being interested in my reflection, I move so that I'm standing right outside the bathroom door. Then I press my ear to it.

Blake says, "Look, I was clear what I wanted, and you aren't giving that to me. I'm not the one who's reneging on our deal."

Their deal? That doesn't sound like a romantic relationship.

Then he adds, "What's the point of giving you more time? You could change your mind again, and then I'm stuck. "

I'm so confused right now. Is she trying to talk him out of leaving her?

" If I come back, and that's a big if, I want it in writing that I will never have to do anything like this again." I have no idea what her response is, but his tone softens. "I came all the way to Chicago from LA. I did not do that lightly and I don't appreciate your lying to me."

What is she lying about? And again, what is Blake doing at a singles' event if he has a girlfriend?

I'm no closer to figuring out what's going on when the bathroom door bursts open and hits me square on the nose. I cry out as I clutch my face while stumbling backward. I nearly fall to the floor, but the bed stops me.

I thought bathroom doors were supposed to open in, not out. I wonder if it has to do with them being handicap accessible and needing all the space in the bathroom.

When I reach back to steady myself, I realize my hands are covered in blood.

"What were you doing there?" Blake entreats before going back into the bathroom to get another towel. At this rate, he isn't going to have any left.

Tipping my head back to lessen the blood flow, I tell him, "I had to use the bathroom. I was about to knock on the door." I'm not sure if he believes me or not, but he doesn't question me further.

Dabbing the towel to my face, he says, "Let's get you sitting down and then I'll fetch some ice." He helps me across the room back to my chair before grabbing the ice bucket.

Blake comes back a couple of minutes later. He fills the plastic laundry bag and hands it to me. "You're very accident prone, aren't you?"

"I'm really not." Says the woman covered in orange juice and blood. Looking down at the table is like witnessing a particularly grizzly crime scene. "I've never even had stitches before," I boldly declare .

Blake rolls his eyes. "I find that hard to believe." Then he goes into the bathroom for another towel. I hear him grumble, "The maid is going to think I killed someone in here."

As soon as he comes back, I ask, "Who were you talking to on the phone?"

He freezes like he's playing that old childhood game, statue maker. "Who? You mean just now?"

I nod my head.

"That was my … mom. She was checking in to see how things are going. You know how invested moms are in their children's social lives."

His mom? I highly doubt that, but on the off chance he calls his mom by her first name, I ask, "What are your parents' names?"

Furrowing his brow, he answers, "Beth and John."

Beth sounds nothing like Gillian, so I know he's a big fat liar. I'm about to call him on it when he adds, "Now you understand why I think friendship is so important, right?"

No, but I do know why Blake hasn't made a single move on me. He's already seeing someone. What I don't understand is why he's at a dating getaway. It almost sounded like his girlfriend knew he was here, too. Which makes things even more confusing.

"Friendship is the key to all good relationships," Blake reiterates.

"Are you and your girlfriend good friends?" I want to know.

His eyes shift around the room like he's looking for a hidden camera. "What girlfriend? I don't have a girlfriend."

"Uh-huh."

"If I had a girlfriend, why would I be here?"

"I don't know, Blake, why would you?" My voice sounds muffled from the ice bag currently sitting on my face. I continue, "You seem more interested in asking people questions than you are in romance."

I can almost see the hamster wheel turning in his head. "How will I know if I want to be romantic with someone if I don't ask them questions?"

Removing the towel full of ice, I lower my chin and stare directly into his eyes. "You ask Thor and Kyle a lot of questions. Do you think you've ruled out wanting to date them?"

"I'm not gay, Molly," he tells me, "I just like getting to know people."

"I don't believe you."

"That I'm not gay?" He sounds borderline offended.

"I don't believe you're here looking for a girlfriend."

A dozen different emotions cross his face before he settles on what I'm sure he thinks is a look of innocence. "Think what you want."

"Oh, I will," I tell him, "and I think you're lying to me and everyone else here."

He shrugs in such a way that I know I've hit the nail on the head.

At this point, I have nothing to lose, so I ask, "Who's Gillian, Blake?"

His shocked expression tells me all I need to know. Blake is otherwise engaged.