Chapter 4

Julie

After a night of fitful sleep, I don't feel any better about my most recent interaction with Blaine. I know that I should have told him I was going to be late, but I don't think forgetting to do so warranted that kind of reaction. I feel snubbed and stupid. Maybe he's just like every other guy that my coworkers talk about. All he wanted from me was sex.

That assertion just feels wrong, though. Maybe I'm wrong to think it, but I was sure there's something more between us. Even though the blowjob I gave him was supposed to be an apology, I felt an irresistible pull when we locked eyes. While he was coaching me through it, he was warm, not cold. It was like he was enjoying it more than he otherwise would have because I was the one pleasuring him. Even while I was getting him off, he still cared about my pleasure.

What happened between us was definitely hot – the hottest thing I could even imagine – but it also felt profound. At least, that's what I thought. How could I be so wrong?

I spend my entire day trying to comprehend his behavior. I barely take any notes in my classes, and I'm grateful that I'm such a history nerd. Otherwise, I might have to worry about my grades falling along with my brand new, rocky sex life.

On the way to my American history class, I make up my mind to confront him when the professor finishes his lecture. I need answers. If he has an explanation for his actions yesterday, I want to hear it. And, if he really only wants me for sexual pleasure, I need to know. Having that knowledge would help me get over him, even though getting over him is the last thing I want to do.

When I walk into the lecture hall, his head is ducked and his attention is focused on a stack of essays in front of him. His body is tense, like there's something heavy weighing on his mind. I do my best to swallow the fear that it's me that's causing him to look like that.

I'm even more distracted now that I'm in the same room as Blaine. I don't hear a single word the professor says, and my notebook is spread out in front of me more for show than anything else. The impending conversation I'm about to initiate takes up all of my brain power.

I don't have any idea of what to say. How do you even start a conversation like this without sounding desperate and needy? Do I demand answers? Do I try to approach him with tact? Is being tactful something I'm capable of?

I don't get the chance to find out. When class wraps up, I waste no time in packing my things into my backpack, but by the time I get everything put away, Blaine is already heading out the door.

That doesn't seem like a good sign.

There's a lump in my throat as I make my way home. From what I can tell, he is just using me for sex. He made a quick escape to avoid talking to me about what happened last night. That much is clear.

The heaviness from our lack of interaction is still weighing on my shoulders by the time I get to work. In fact, I'm so out of sorts that Nicole clocks it as soon as I walk into the restaurant. She forces me to tell her everything, and I'm not lucky enough to have a busy night to escape her incessant questioning. At her insistence, I send him a text asking if he has time for another "lesson" tonight, and to my surprise, he tells me to come over as soon as I get off work.

Even though he's clearly not done with me, the invitation does nothing to quell the unease in my stomach. He might just think that I want a repeat of last night. I consider texting him that I just want to talk, but Nicole doesn't think that's a good idea. She says I don't want to give him time to come up with excuses. It's best if I spring the question on him and get his answer in the moment.

When the end of the night rolls around, I breeze through my side work. While I'm not exactly eager to have this conversation, I can't have Blaine thinking I'm standing him up again. It's best if I just head over there and get this over with.

I'm the only person on the bus the entire ride to Blaine's apartment. Normally, I'd be grateful for the silence and privacy, but right now, I'm missing the constant stopping. No other passengers means no chance of stretching this ride out a little longer.

Before I know it, I'm standing on his doorstep, staring at the mat on the ground. I can't seem to make myself knock no matter how hard I try. Finally, I settle on sending him a text to let him know I'm outside.

"Hey," he says when the door swings open. "Sorry I didn't hear you knock."

"It's okay," I say, not bothering to correct him.

"Well, come in," he says, stepping back to allow me entry. Once I'm inside and the door is closed, he says, "Sorry for sending you away like that yesterday."

I hum, crossing my arms over my chest as if to protect myself. Blaine catches the motion and his eyes roam over my form, taking in my body language. Confusion falls over his face before it's quickly replaced by concern.

"What's going on?" he asks, reaching out and touching my elbow. I wish the gesture didn't feel so comforting, that his touch didn't send warmth flooding through my being.

"It's just…" I start, my nerves overwhelming me. Blaine squeezes my arm, anchoring me to the current moment. Before I speak again, I take a deep, steadying breath. "I need to ask you something, and I need you to promise me you'll tell the truth."

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that. Surprise is written all over his features, but his voice is sincere when he says, "I'll tell you the truth. You have my word. Now, what's bothering you?"

I look at the floor, gathering all the strength I can before turning my gaze to Blaine. His worried expression threatens to slice me open and kill the words before they even have a chance to get out. So I speak quickly.