“You guys got to go and be big kids, doing your own thing and spending your allowance on games, while I had to stay at home and hang out with my mom ‘cause I was too young,” I explain, mimicking my mom’s stern voice. “I was jealous. So sue me.”
“Yeah, well, I was jealous too,” he counters.
I frown, pausing before hooking my arms around his neck, being careful to keep the cotton candy from touching the back of his head as we sway slightly back and forth. “And what were you jealous about?”
“That I got vacuum beach all the time while your brother got olive juice mixed in.”
“Friends don’t get jealous over olive juice.”
“This friend did,” he says. His swaying slows as his grip around my waist tightens.
I still can’t believe how long we’ve been fighting this. This pull. This attraction. I bite my bottom lip and whisper, “Why?”
“Because I liked you, Blake. Even back then, you managed to get under my skin in a way no one has. Ever.”
The words hit like a strong shot of whiskey, leaving me warm and light. It’ll never get old. Hearing those words. Admitting our childhood feelings. Feeling safe enough and brave enough to admit it out loud. I’m left reeling.
“You managed to get under my skin too,” I breathe out. “And no matter what I tried to do, I couldn’t get you out of my system.”
“I guess you’re stuck with me, huh?”
“I hope so.”
He tilts my head up and kisses me, tasting like cotton candy with a side of Theo. It’s heady and addictive, and the only thing keeping me from having a full-blown make out session in the middle of the arcade is a crying toddler screaming at the top of its lungs for more popcorn.
I pull away and let out a laugh, wiping at the edge of my mouth with my thumb as reality crashes into me.
“Keep it in your pants, Blake,” Theo teases.
“Says the guy who was grabbing my ass.”
“Language,” he scolds, not even bothering to hide his cocky smirk as he tilts his head toward the game in front of us. “We should play.” The game has two basketball hoops set up side by side and is surrounded by nets.
“You looking for another rematch?” I ask.
He grins and puts two coins into the machine. “Nah. I already got what I wanted.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah.”
“And what’s that?”
His smile softens, but the crinkles around his eyes make my heart pitter-patter away. “You.”
44
THEO
After the arcade, we made out in the car for a while, and I drove us to my place where we finally made it to my bedroom. I thought it would’ve been weird. Having Blake stay the night. I wasn’t kidding when I told her I don’t sleep with girls. But it’s Blake. Things have always been different with her.
The morning light filters through the window as she drags her fingers along my bare chest, snuggled against me beneath the gray comforter.
It’s peaceful.
Quiet.
“Is it weird that I’m already going to miss this?” she murmurs.
With a frown, I lift my head from the pillow and look down at her. Her mess of waves frame her freckled face as she stares blankly at the wall, lost in her own thoughts.
“Miss what?” I ask, my voice still gritty from sleep.
“This.” She peeks up at me. “When you graduate this spring and leave me for the high life.”
“Who says I’m going anywhere?”
That same sad smile greets me. “Don’t tell me you’re sticking around after graduation. If you haven’t already gotten a shit ton of offers yet, they’re gonna come, Theo.”
She’s right. They’ve already come. So many it makes my head spin most days, but I haven’t signed any contracts yet. I haven’t been able to. I’ve been too focused on Blake. On us. On the future I want to build and how much it doesn’t align with the future I’ve been building since I was a kid.
It fucking sucks.
Dragging my finger against her bare arm, I murmur, “So, what?”
“So, I think it’s awesome, and I couldn’t be more excited for you. Doesn’t mean I don’t get to be sad every once in a while too.”
“You have nothing to be sad about, Blake.”
Her lips purse as if she wants to argue, but she only hums. “Hmm.”
“I’m serious. I’m in this for the long haul.”
“I know you are. And I am too. Trust me. I’ve literally never been happier. But…” She sighs and burrows into my chest a little more. “I’m also going to take advantage of soaking up every moment before you go.” Her hot breath tickles my bare peck as she rests her forehead against it, shielding her expression with her messy hair. “God, I don’t want you to go.”
“Blake––”
“Blah. Enough sad talk.”
“Blake,” I repeat. Tangling my fingers in her hair, I force her to look at me.
“I think your future’s awesome, Theo. Seriously, I couldn’t be happier––”
“Stop.”
She sucks her lips into her mouth but stays quiet, her bright green gaze hitting me like a sucker punch to the gut. The vulnerability. The sadness.
“I want it to be our future. You and me.”
A spark of hope ignites, but I can tell she’s fighting it. Fighting the idea of us being together long-term. Not because she doesn’t want it. But because she’s scared. Scared of letting me in. Scared of falling for me the same way I’ve already fallen for her. Especially when our future is so precarious, so unknown. I guess I don’t blame her. It’s why I haven’t signed any contracts. Why I haven’t asked if she’d be willing to move across the country for me. Why I haven’t asked if she’d even want to. The answer? It could break us.
“You want it to be our future?” she whispers.
“Yeah, Blake. I really do.”
She settles her head against my chest. Her breath tickles my bare chest as she lets out a soft sigh.
“Okay.”
45
BLAKELY
Things have been perfect lately. I go to Theo’s games. He volunteers at the charity whenever he has time. We meet up between classes for coffee and have sleepovers almost every night. Literally, it’s perfect with a capital P.
And since it’s my day off, and Theo doesn’t have any practice tonight, we’re snuggled on the couch at my place, watching Big Daddy when the front door opens with a quiet squeak. I glance over the edge of the couch and find Mia with a box tucked beneath her arm.
When she sees me, she pulls back, surprised. “Oh. Hey.”
“Hey,” I greet her.
With a tight smile, she repeats, “Hey.” Her attention darts to Theo. “Sorry if I interrupted.”
“You’re not interrupting,” I reply.
“I’ll just…” She grabs the scissors from the junk drawer and opens the box on the kitchen island, more tense and elusive than usual.