19. Blake

CHAPTER 19

Blake

" Y ou were in the bathroom for a pretty long time. Food poisoning?" Heath asks all too innocently.

We're walking back from the bar to my place. I really wanted Amanda to come home with me, but Heath is staying over since he got a new apartment in Langford, out of the way, and getting a cab was proving to be way too difficult tonight. God I wish they had bloody Uber in this city.

I don't say anything to Heath. I assumed he was preoccupied with Rio because it was pretty obvious why Amanda and I disappeared for a while. And honestly, I don't want to get into a discussion about her. She's way too personal of a topic now. I want to keep her as close to my heart as possible.

"Dude," Heath goes on. "I have to commend you. She's pretty fucking hot. I'm amazed you've been able to keep it in your pants all this time."

I suck on my teeth loudly and his eyes flit to mine. "Have you been banging her this whole time?" he asks.

"We're just friends," I try and explain, even though I know we're anything but. Even though having sex in a public restroom is nothing new to me and by no means romantic, that meant something. That said something about us . How badly we want each other and need each other. It nearly killed me to be at the same table as her and pretend like she wasn't more to me than a casual fuck. She's not that at all, and I don't know how to process it other than to screw her silly.

Maybe that's been our problem. Every time some inkling of a feeling pops up, we jump right into bed with each other and fuck it out of our systems.

But you can't ignore something like that forever.

I fear something like that only comes along once in a lifetime.

I was hoping the fresh air from the harbor on the walk home would help, but Heath's yapping mouth is muddling up my thoughts.

"Just friends," he muses. "A fuckgirl. Have you had any other fuckgirls while you've been giving her the D?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It totally does. You've been fucking the same girl. And only that girl. On more than one occasion. Right?"

"So?" I shove my hands into my pockets and shrug my shoulders up. There's a chill in the air tonight which is odd for summer. Maybe it's because my nerves have me on edge and my gut is churning like I've got razor blades in there.

"So," he goes on, obviously not yet done with this, "you haven't done that once since you and Rachel broke up. I seriously thought you'd fuck the entire city before your dick fell off or something."

"You should talk."

"I should," he says. "But I'm not trying to run away from my problems. I have no problems."

I stop and stare at him. "What does that mean?"

"Other than my life is sweet?" he says, tucking his hair behind his ears. "It means that ever since Rachel cheated on you, you've been having your revenge on her by sleeping with everything that moves. You've been a total dick to them all because Rachel was a dick to you. And you've tried to prove to yourself, over and over again, that you don't need relationships or commitment, or even love to have fun."

My mouth drops open. Is Heath seriously lecturing me about love?

"Don't pretend I'm not right, dude," Heath says, kicking at a stone. "We all get screwed over at some point in our lives. It's part of the great circle. The circle of life. You remember The Lion King , right? Simba's father dies, so he has to avenge his death by killing Scar, and he becomes so focused on that he nearly messes things up with Nala, the one true thing that will save him more than revenge ever will."

He continues walking down the street and I can only blink at him for a moment before catching up. "Are you sure that's how The Lion King went?"

"You know it was based on Hamlet , right?"

I'm surprised he knows that. "I still don't think…"

"Anyway, Amanda might be your Nala, and that's okay. But don't throw it away because you hate Jeremy Irons."

I shake my head, falling into step beside him. "I'm not throwing anything away."

"You're just stuck and don't know how to take it to the next step. What you really need is to take her on a walk through the jungle, preferably while Elton John?—"

"Will you stop with The Lion King analogies?"

"Fine. But you have to admit they're helpful."

I'm not too sure about that.

But I do have "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" in my head for the rest of the walk.

Thanks, Heath.

"It's enough for this restless warrior," Heath sings from the kitchen, "just to be with you."

I groan and roll over. I thought the song had invaded my dreams.

I get up and stagger out of the bedroom. Heath is fully dressed and belting out the song into a half-empty glass of pineapple juice.

"Hey, you're finally up," he says, stopping his singing mid-lyric and finishing the juice. He pounds the empty glass on the counter. "I'm just about to jet off. There's a good swell off Point No Point."

I eye the microwave clock. It's only eight a.m.

"All right," I tell him, glad to be alone to get my head on straight.

"By the way, I fed Fluffy for you," he says. "I love that little dude. The way he munches on those crickets is so cute."

I raise my brows at him. "Well, one day that little dude might just be yours."

"Awesome," he says with a goofy grin, heading for the door. He pauses. "Oh, and remember to go get that little lion, pound her until she purrs, and tell her how you feel."

"Right."

He gives me the hang loose sign and heads out the door.

I sigh, going straight for the coffee maker. He made coffee and he fed Fluffy. Not a bad guy to have around sometimes.

After I have several cups of liquid gold on the patio, watching the seaplanes take off and the water taxies ferrying people from the taco stands and houseboats at Fisherman's Wharf, I try and go over what to say to Amanda. I might not have to say anything at all. Or that's just wishful thinking since I have no clue what I even want.

Do I want a relationship with her?

I'm not sure if I can open myself up like that again.

Do I want to just keep sleeping with her as is ?

Of course. But the feelings are only going to get worse.

Stronger.

Deeper.

Wrapping around me like vines until there's no hope of being cut loose.

What I do know is that she's more than just a writing partner. She's become everything to me. And the last time I had someone be my everything , I lost everything when she left me.

I head back inside, the heat already strong this morning, and put on The White Stripes to get Elton John out of my head. I pick up my phone from the charger on the wall, hoping Amanda has texted me.

An email displayed on my lock screen puts my heart in my throat.

It's from Rachel.

Funny how life works like that. Like when you have a dream about some random person and then happen to see them the next day.

I breathe out slowly, trying to expel the tension in my chest, and sit on the bed, taking a moment before I open the email.

Here I go.

Bollocks.

There's a lot to read.

I scan over it, blinking hard at what she's written and going back over it again.

It's not a friendly "hi, haven't talked to you for a bit, how is life?" email.

It's the "I made a huge mistake and I'm alone now and I realize I still love you and miss you more than ever, please come back, we can make this work" kind of email.

The love of my life, the love that ruined me, is admitting she was wrong, is asking for a second chance.

And now .

Now of all times.

Bloody fucking hell.

I drop the phone, my head swimming, trying to process it all, trying to think.

It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best.

Fucking song.

I think I'm going to need to add a little something to my coffee.

I'm about to get up and rummage through my rapidly-depleting liquor cabinet when the phone starts to ring.

Shit. Don't tell me she's calling me too.

I cautiously pick it up and see Amanda's name flashing across the screen.

Seriously? She never calls me, I'm always calling her.

"Hello?" I answer urgently.

"Hey," she says, sounding small and far away.

"You never call."

"I know."

"How are you feeling after last night? Did you guys stay long? Did you go somewhere else? Did you have fun?" I'm totally rambling like a runaway train here.

She laughs. "You goof. Of course I had fun. I'm good. I just went home after." She pauses and it's obvious there's something on her mind.

"So…"

"Blake, uh, I'm not sure if this is appropriate or not, but my friend from high school, Sarah Price, she invited me to her engagement party tonight. I just saw her back when, well, months ago, and now she's with some guy and anyway, I was wondering if you would go with me."

Oh. Oh . Not at all what I was expecting.

"Of course I will. Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know," she says quietly. "Maybe it's weird. "

"Hey, you ask me to do something, I'll do it."

Please don't think something like this is weird.

"Do you still have that suit you wore for the cover?"

"Of course. I'll wear it." I pause. "Are you going to wear your hair down?"

"I'm not fucking Rapunzel," she scoffs. "Anyway, uh…do you mind picking me up? Maybe around seven?"

"You don't want to do some writing today?"

She lets out a dry laugh. "I'm going to a party where all my old high school friends will be. I need a dress, badly. Something to make them look twice."

"Now I see why you need me," I joke.

"Well, that's part of it."

"I'm flattered."

"When aren't you? See you at seven?"

"See you."

I hang up and stare at the phone, going back to Rachel's email and reading it over again.

At seven I'm knocking on Amanda's door and swatting at a moth that's taken a liking to my face. I have to admit, I'm actually nervous. I feel like I'm taking a date to the prom or something. My palms keep getting sweaty, and I have to wipe them on my pants.

The door opens a crack and part of Amanda's face peeks out.

"Hey," she says, and even though I can only see her eyes, lips, and cheeks, she looks bloody gorgeous. She isn't even wearing her glasses. "You swatting at invisible elves?"

"There was a moth," I explain .

"Insects just love you." She looks me up and down and smiles. "You look pretty good."

"Pretty good?" Damn. I thought I looked fucking amazing.

"You look more like a business man than you do James Bond."

"James Bond?" I repeat, shaking my head. "I was going for the Bad Boy Billionaire who's about to sweep you off to the opera in his Lotus."

"So Richard Gere in Pretty Woman , then."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I tell her, putting my hand on the door and pushing it open.

She steps back and does a little swing of her hips, arms out in open display.

"What do you think?" she asks hopefully.

What do I think? She looks like the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Her dress is simple, a golden yellow strapless number that sweeps the floor, but it pushes up her breasts and makes her curves stand out while her skin absolutely glows against the color. Despite her Rapunzel comment, she's worn her hair down in loose waves that spill over her shoulders.

I'm immediately hard.

"You can feel exactly what I think," I nearly growl at her, stepping forward through the doorway and pulling her toward me.

"You like it!"

Ana's voice breaks through just as I groan into Amanda's neck, my erection pressed firm against her hip. Damn this bloody woman.

I look up and do my best not to glare at her. "I didn't realize you were here."

Ana smiles, holding up a glass of wine. "I'm always here."

I pull back and give Amanda a sheepish look. "Well, you did a great job on her makeup. "

"Thank you," Ana says. "I also did her hair. I'm trying out a new career." She takes a gulp of her drink. When she finishes swallowing she says, "It was either hairdresser school or become an anesthesiologist."

"That's makes no sense," I tell her. I glance at Amanda expectantly. "Shall we go?"

She nods quickly as Ana chirps, "Have a good time, sweet things!"

We hurry up to the car and get in. The moment her door closes, I lean in, running my hands through her hair, the thick, silky feel of her strands causing something inside me to loosen, like all the tension from earlier is finally being released.

She stares at me, her eyes searching mine in the dark, probably wondering what I'm doing.

"Is that lipstick kiss proof?" I ask quietly, focused on her hot pink mouth.

She shakes her head gently, her mouth parting slightly.

"Too bad." I lean in closer, closing my eyes as I very gently press my lips to hers. She inhales sharply before she gives in, opening her mouth just so, just enough to gently tease the edge of her lips with my tongue.

At this point I've probably kissed Amanda a hundred different ways, but this kiss is different. This kiss reveres her. In this kiss she should know she's a goddess, a fantasy priestess, a ruler of my world.

I slowly pull my lips away and press my forehead against hers while she lets out a small breathless gasp.

"What was that for?" she asks after a beat.

"For you," I tell her before breaking apart.

I buckle up my seatbelt and start the engine, Mr. Mean roaring to life.

The party is located out at a winery in Saanichton, so we have a half an hour drive ahead of us. She's strangely silent for most of it, staring out the window at the darkened highway .

"Will it be good to see your friends?" I ask her lamely. It sounds like small talk and I hate that, but the dynamics between us keep on changing and I can't even keep up with my own feelings.

"Maybe," she says, running her fingers absently down the window. "Like I said, I haven't seen Sarah in forever."

"And the rest of them?"

"Well, actually, I saw the rest of them the last time I saw her."

"Which was…"

"New Year's Eve." Something in her voice catches.

A light goes off in my head. "You mean when you chundered on your ex during his marriage proposal?"

"That's the night."

I exhale loudly, gripping the steering wheel. "Wow. Okay. So tell me why we're going to this again?"

She finally looks at me. "I told you. I just want to…show them that I'm okay."

"But, you turned him down. Doesn't this situation usually call for the other way around? The jilted lover shows up with something to prove? I mean, maybe Alan will do just that."

Her mouth pinches together.

"Oh," I say, finally getting it. "He's going to be there. Your ex-boyfriend."

She nods, looking sheepish. "Yeah. I asked Sarah. He'll be there. With his new girlfriend who is supposed to be a genetic scientist slash supermodel. Apparently they exist outside of sitcoms."

"So you're taking me to try and make your ex jealous?" I can't seem to keep the annoyance out of my voice. The fact she's pretty much using me makes a hot and bitter coal burn in my chest.

"Kind of," she says. "You don't mind, do you?"

"The fact that you're using me, or the fact that you want your ex to care?" I pause while she doesn't say anything. "Do you seriously want him back?"

Bloody hell, she better not say yes. My heart starts to spin in my chest.

"No," she says quickly, shaking her head. "Not at all. I told you. I didn't love him and breaking it off was the right thing to do. Believe it or not, I'm a million times happier now."

But do I have anything to do with that?

"I just want to show them all that I did okay, that's all." She sighs and starts examining her hands. "I was the nerd in high school."

"You're still a nerd, geek, dork, and a hundred other things that make you you ," I point out. "Own it."

"I do. But I mean, people only liked me or put up with it in my final year because I was with Alan. I wasn't bullied or anything like that, but I was never the one people wanted to hang out with." She seems to think that over. "Maybe it's because I never wanted to hang out with them."

"You think?"

"Anyway, you wouldn't understand."

"Hey, peach, I get it. You want to prove that you're still a catch or cool or whatever on your own and that it had nothing to do with that tosser. But these people…they don't matter. Nothing that happened in high school matters. That was a different world, a different planet. It doesn't matter who you ate lunch with back then or what your nicknames were. Like it or not, act like it or not, but you're an adult now. You've almost finished university. You're living in a great place with an older roommate and getting all these life experiences you can't buy. You're being you and you're doing your thing…and you happen to be a motherfucking bestselling author with a huge career in front of her, as well as one hell of a paycheck."

I put my hand on top of hers and squeeze. "And you've got me. "

She rolls her eyes.

"No," I tell her, my voice rough. She blinks at me in surprise. "I mean you really have me. If you'll have me."

She worries her lip between her teeth, staring at me with wild eyes. I don't know what she's thinking, but I need her to say something, anything, because for the first time I'm putting my heart on the line here and I have absolutely no idea how she's going to take it.

I look back to the road, turning off on the exit that leads to the winery.

The silence is too thick.

"I got an email from Rachel," I tell her.

"What?" she asks, her voice sounding raw. At least that got her attention.

"Yeah, this morning. Strange timing considering."

"Considering what?"

"Heath and I were talking about her last night."

"Oh," she says, her voice becoming small. She looks out the window again. "What did she want?"

"She wants me back."

She stiffens, her fingers paused before they go back to playing with the pleats in her dress. "I see."

"She said that she made a huge mistake, that she regrets cheating on me. Her own heart was broken, karma, of course, and she knows the pain I went through. Apparently I was the only loyal, dependable thing in her life, if you can believe that." I let out a caustic laugh. "She said she still loves me with all her heart, that she never stopped loving me and wants a second chance."

My eyes keep darting between the road and Amanda. She's gripping her dress, her knuckles going white, but she won't face me.

"Are you going to take her back?" she asks quietly. "Try long distance again? "

The fact that this so obviously bothers her is like a tonic to my soul. It means she has to care.

"Do you think I'm going to take her back? Do you think I'm still in love with her?"

She shrugs with one shoulder.

"Amanda," I say, grappling for the words. When I don't say anything else, she slowly turns her head to look at me. Fearful. Hopeful.

"I told her it was too late," I admit. "I told her I didn't love her anymore, because I don't. That ship sailed a long time ago. And I told her I wished her the best of luck but the truth was, I've met someone else." I give her a faint smile, aware of everything riding on this. "You."

"Me?" she repeats, her voice barely audible.

"I didn't mean it as a work partner. I didn't mean it as someone I'm casually sleeping with. I meant in a completely jumping the gun, getting ahead of myself, answering for you when I shouldn't, I want you to be my girlfriend kind of way. She doesn't have my affection, my future, or my heart. You do, Amanda. You do."

There. I've laid it all out on the table.

No regrets.

Except she's still not saying anything. She's just staring at me incredulously

And I'm pretty sure one of Fluffy's crickets is loose in the car and chirping on cue.

Finally she says, "That is the cheesiest thing I've ever heard you say. Honestly, I'm shocked."

I sigh. "You know what? It's true. You don't have a romantic bone in your body." I raise my finger. "And don't make a joke about the romantic bone in my pants because I walked right into that one."

We lapse into an uneasy silence .

"So," I say, eyeing her. "You're just going to let me tell you that shit and you're not going to say anything?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"What do you want me to say?" I repeat, raising my voice, nearly taking the car off the road. "How about anything? How about, oh Blake, I want to be with you too, you have the biggest cock I've ever seen. Or how about, Blake, you're a fucking wanker and I hope you get on the next plane to Yorkshire."

She cocks her head, her brows knitting together. "I think it's been pretty obvious how I've felt."

I feel like my fucking head is exploding. "Obvious? I don't even know what you're going to say or how you feel, so no, not obvious. What the hell is with you girls? You think every man is a fucking mind reader." I give her a look. "It's called communication."

"Well, you could have told me your revelation earlier."

"I could have, if I had realized it."

"Men," she says, shaking her head. "You think with your dick so much you never once stop to check in with your brain."

"Look, I think we both can agree it's hard to think when you're not only peddling smut but acting it out like a full-time job. Writing has become the day shift, fucking has become the night shift."

"Agreed."

"So now what?"

"I guess I'm your girlfriend," she says, the corner of her mouth turning up into a smile.

"Are you going to laugh? Are you taking the piss?"

"Kind of," she admits, and breaks into a warm grin. But that's when I see it. It's not humor, its happiness. I have to assume she can see the same thing on my face.

Finally we pull up to the winery, a slew of cars parked outside, the stone building done up with sparkly lights. I feel like we've arrived in so many more ways than one.

I unbuckle my belt and twist in my seat to look at her, taking her hand in mine.

Her hand that's mine.

I stare at it for a moment, sliding my thumb over the faint hairs, her porcelain skin, her hand that feels nothing other than perfect when I hold it.

I feel like there's a sunrise in my chest, burning hot, while everything about the world is brighter and anew.

I swallow thickly. "I hope you realize that the last place I want to be is at this party. I want you in my bed, and I want to pleasure you until dawn, hard, long, fast, it doesn't matter, but that's all I want to do for a very long time. But because this matters to you, I'm going inside. We're going to make the rounds, say hello, maybe have a drink and a dance and then this thing" —I bang the steering wheel with my free hand— "is turning into a pumpkin and I'm taking you away. Got it?"

She grins at me, leaning forward to give me a kiss. "Did I ever tell you how much I love it when you get forceful?" she coos.

I can feel the blood rushing to my cock. "No. Why did you have to tell me now?"

Her eyes twinkle slyly as she reaches over and rubs her hand along the length of my erection.

I groan sharply and go to press her hand into me harder.

But she gives me a wink.

"Come on," she says.

And quickly gets out of the car.

Damn it.