Blake: Aaaand I guess I’ll see you tonight.
Me: Looking forward to it.
25
BLAKELY
“Welp,” I say, lifting my hands from my sides. The girls insisted on giving me a once-over before I walk out of the house. They’re all lounging in the family room, watching the bachelorette passing out roses on the TV screen. When they see me, Mia mutes the show and checks me out.
“That’s what you’re wearing?” she asks with a frown.
I look down at my hoodie and jeans. “Uh, yes?”
“On a date?” Kate lifts her brows as if I’m a crazy person.
I shove my hands into the pouch of my red LAU sweatshirt. “It isn’t a date.”
“But you guys slept together,” Ash reminds me.
“And?” I counter.
“And tonight, he’s picking you up and taking you to a Taylor House party as his plus-one,” she continues. “Kind of the definition of a date.”
“It isn’t a date,” I argue. “And I’m not his plus-one. He’s just…driving me so there won’t be too many cars parked in front of his house.”
Ash snorts. “And the fact you could’ve caught a ride with Mia and me?”
With a huff, I repeat, “It isn’t a date,” though I’m not entirely sure who I’m trying to convince anymore. It feels like a date, which is why I decided to wear the biggest, baggiest hoodie in my closet. When I caught a glimpse of my reflection earlier, I almost died laughing. The thing practically drowns me and almost reaches my knees. It belonged to Colt, but I stole it from him a few months ago, and it’s perfect for tonight. Totally worth it.
“Okay, it isn’t a date,” Kate concedes, sharing a quick glance with Mia. “But let me ask you this. Do you like him?”
“I’m not allowed to like him.”
“Why not?”
“Because he doesn’t look at me like that despite us having sex”––Kate scoffs, but I ignore her––”and because Coach Sanderson put the kabosh on romantic relationships thanks to the first game of the season and how shitty the team played. Therefore, I’m not allowed to like him. It’s as simple as that.”
“One”––Mia raises her pointer finger––“he most definitely does look at you like that. We’ve all seen it firsthand, so don’t even bother denying it. And two”––she adds her middle finger into the air––“Sanderson doesn’t have eyes everywhere, so technically…”
Her voice trails off, and Ash pipes up, “Ooo, a forbidden romance. Colt and I did that once. It’s hot.” She winks at me. “This one time, we were at SeaBird––”
Nose wrinkling, I lift my hand and say, “Ew, stop. Colt’s my brother, remember?”
Mia laughs and throws a kernel of popcorn at Ash and asks, “Do you trust us?”
“No?” I answer with a laugh.
“Oh, come on,” Ash begs.
Mia stands up from the couch, loops her arm through mine, and drags me back to my bedroom without giving me a chance to argue anymore.
When I follow her without protest, she calls over her shoulder, “See, ladies? The trick is to not give her a choice. Come on. Let's get to work.”
“Get to work on what?” I ask as we reach my bedroom. I have a feeling I know where this is going, and after the last makeover debacle, I’m a little hesitant. Especially if I wanna keep up the whole just friends parameters I’d originally set with Theo.
And I should.
Heaven knows I should.
Letting me go, Mia digs around in my closet like it’s the most natural thing to do but doesn’t bother answering me. I should probably be used to her behavior by now. All of them share clothes, makeup, and food like it’s going out of style.
Which is the opposite of how I grew up.
Boys are so different from girls, it’s not even funny. When you were raised with a bunch of older brothers, the lack of barriers between female roommates feels comical sometimes. It’s like I’ve entered an alternate universe or something.
Kate sits next to me on the edge of my bed, probably to keep me from shoving them all out of my room, while Ash opens my dresser and pulls out a black, lacy bra, tossing it onto my lap. Meanwhile, Mia is still elbow-deep in my closet, searching for clothing options. Seriously. You’d think they’d orchestrated this whole thing.
“Put it on,” Ash orders pointing to the bra with a look stern enough to make Professor McGonagall proud.
“But we’re just friends,” I remind her as I lift the bra into the air and examine it further. Don’t get me wrong. My baby boobs look awesome in this bad boy, but that’s beside the point, especially if I don’t want Theo to notice my baby boobs.
Right?
“Just because you’re lying to yourself by saying you’re only friends with Theo doesn’t mean it won’t be fun to make him drool over you for the night,” Mia returns without bothering to look at me. She slides the hangers in my closet from left to right as she checks out what she’s working with. Clearly disappointed with her options, she says, “Ash, go see what you can find in our closets. All this girl owns are hoodies and workout clothes.” As Ash scurries off, Mia turns back to my closet and continues rifling through everything. “Besides, Blake. You like him. I know you like him. Ash and Kate know you like him. And even if you didn’t––which we’ve already concluded you do––there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be appreciated from afar.”
“Especially with this hair,” Kate admits, scrunching my messy curls in her hand. I’d left it down, letting it hang around my shoulders while refusing to acknowledge it’s because I know how much Theo likes it this way.
“Do you have any idea how jealous I am of this?” she adds, playing with my messy strands.
“Says the girl with this gorgeous dark hair.” I pick at the luscious locks flowing down her back like a damn waterfall to prove my point. “It’s so thick and shiny it practically glows.”
“It’s also as straight as a board,” she finishes. “It doesn’t even hold curls when it’s caked in gel and hair spray.”
“Still beautiful, though. I bet Wes likes it,” I tease.
Her shoulders deflate as Ash returns to my bedroom with some clothes in her arms. She stops short, sensing the change in Kate. “Oh, no. What’d I miss?”
“Blake brought up Wes, and Kate got quiet,” Mia explains. The girl’s more blunt than a Clint Eastwood cigar. She walks to Ash and filters through the clothing options, lifting a shimmery black top and a pair of low-rise jeans into the air. Satisfied, Mia hands them to me and turns her attention on Kate like she’s Mia’s next order of business. Poor girl.
“So, my dear Kate,” she says. “What’s up with you and Wes? And why haven’t we heard about any of it before now?”
Tucking a few strands of dark hair behind her ear, Kate mutters, “Nothing’s going on with us.”
“Baloney. You’ve been out past 10:30 pm two times this week, and for you, that’s saying something, my friend.”