Smart little fuckers, they were.

I was trying to be a good guy. I could’ve pulled her back to my Wagon, driven her somewhere, and had her moaning for me, but nope—a full date. That’s what I wanted to give her. So after the store, we went to dinner.

And I was in agony.

She was currently rubbing my lap under the table, and this time, she knew the torture she was putting me through. She soaked it up, and I wanted to soak her up, but that would be later. When I leaned over and whispered that promise to her, she blushed, and I kept hearing this weird thunking sound in my chest, like something twisted up in me was falling into place.

It scared the shit out of me, but not enough to end this date. Never enough for that.

After dinner, Aspen wanted to go to a bookstore, so we hit one up. We held hands. And she showed me the romance book aisle. Her favorite.

I noticed she tended to go for the pretty covers.

I picked one of those up and read the back. It was about a school shooting. Serious shit, but she kept going back to it and then putting it on the shelf again.

I bought it when she went to the bathroom.

She squealed when I gave it to her, and I wanted to eat her all the way up, but now we were stopping for ice cream. We found ourselves a table, which was good because I didn’t think I could walk. She licked her cone and seemed oblivious that I was mesmerized. I had to scoot down when some guys from our school walked by, because my hard-on was trying to lift the fucking table.

“Babe.” I leaned forward, trying to think of my grandma. “You gotta stop torturing me. My balls aren’t blue anymore. They’re fucking black.”

Her eyes got big, and I swear, that made her even hotter. I needed to find new words for lickable, tasteable, fuckable, hot, cute, and adorable because those weren’t enough to describe her.

A date.

We were dating.

I’d asked her to be my girl, and she’d climaxed her response.

I was dating someone, and I wasn’t letting her go.

This shit was getting serious.

A girlfriend. That was next.

Or were we already there?

“Blaise.”

Did I have a girlfriend? Was I her boyfriend?

The panic I thought I’d be feeling wasn’t there. What did that say about me?

“Blaise.”

“Hmmm?”

“Blaise!”

I jerked out of my thoughts, finding Aspen giving me a weird look. “What?”

She pointed to the side, and I looked.

Aw, crap.

Zeke stood there, wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. My first thought was to punch him and wipe that smirk off, but the second was shit, shit, shit because Zeke wasn’t alone.

Our entire group of friends had decided they wanted ice cream.

22

Aspen

Zeke Allen leered at me. I hated it.

“Hey, buddy.” His leer turned even smarmier, and he shoved in beside Blaise and leaned forward, his arms resting on the table. “You and me have not officially met. I’m Zeke.”

I opened my mouth, but no surprise, nothing came out. I’d tried getting Blaise’s attention, but he’d taken that moment to get lost in his thoughts. Otherwise I could’ve warned him when I saw Zeke’s truck turn in to the parking lot. He’d parked next to Blaise’s Wagon and gave it a long look before heading inside, a confused frown on his face.

And Zeke’s truck had been just the first.

Four more vehicles pulled in after it, and now the entire front section of the ice cream shop was overrun with Blaise’s friends: Penny, Ria, Deja, Kit. The guys that came with them. They’d all entered, the girls giving me nasty looks. I saw Mara for a moment, but when she saw me, she turned and left.

Hurt had flashed on her face, and a part of me felt bad. But the other part was terrified because this group was the nightmare of every book nerd out there.

Blaise let out an aggrieved sigh, raking his hand through his hair. “No,” he growled, and it seemed to shock everyone. Even Penny cast him a cursory look. Zeke looked mildly amused. He lifted an eyebrow, waiting.

Blaise shoved him out of the booth.

“Come on, man.” Zeke’s arms fell open. “We gotta meet her at some point.”

Blaise gave him a dark look, taking my hand and pulling me out. “Not today, bruh.”

He led me through the group, back to the front of the restaurant.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Zeke called.

Blaise stopped, his hand gripping mine. His body stiffened as he turned back slowly. “Excuse me?”

“You keep starting shit and then leaving. That’s not how it works with me.” Zeke sounded almost charming, but there was an edge in his eyes.

It sent shivers down my back.

Blaise laughed an ugly laugh. He did not look like he was having the same shivers. He was looking like the one who gave those shivers to others. “That’s not how things work with you? Who the fuck do you think you are? You ain’t Ghandi.”

Someone snorted beside us.

A dark cloud came over Zeke’s face before he caught himself. Then that eerily charming smile returned, and he shrugged. “I’m just letting you know how it is. That’s all. We miss hanging out with you.”

“I’m really sick and tired of the cloak-and-dagger warnings, Zeke. You want to throw down? Let’s throw down.”

Just as I thought Blaise was going to break my hand, he loosened his hold. He pulled my hand into both of his and began rubbing.

Zeke watched the movement, and there was a flash in his eyes. Sadness.

I frowned, biting the inside of my cheek. Why?

He shook his head. “You know what? Never mind. We’re good. I was just pissed about earlier.”

What happened earlier?

Blaise relaxed and tucked my hand back in his, moving forward. He and Zeke did a man hug, thumping each other on the shoulder. Blaise said something to him no one else could hear, and Zeke nodded, holding up his fist.

Blaise met it with his own before leading me out.

The crowd moved aside for us, but I felt their attention on my back like I was a target, strung up like a bullseye. My knees were weak when we got to the parking lot.

Blaise stopped, turning to me. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He kissed my forehead, leading me to his Wagon by the hand. He opened my door, and I climbed in, his hand on the small of my back. He got behind the steering wheel, backed out, and without any discussion, turned toward my house.

He was quiet until the last intersection before my house. “Can I sleep at your place?”

“I assumed you would.”

He grinned as the light turned green, but went straight instead of turning left. “I like that.” He nodded ahead. “I want to grab some things from my house, so fair warning. You can stay in the vehicle if you want. I’m sure Douchebag Dickhead will be there and my mom too.” His jaw tightened. “Why she doesn’t kick him out and make him stay in a hotel is beyond me. I don’t get women sometimes.” Then he muttered after a beat, “Maybe I just don’t get moms.”

For some reason, that broke my heart.

He turned into a neighborhood I used to know.

I watched the houses, remembering how Nate would take Owen and me to see his friends. Blaise slowed, pulling into a driveway.

“This was the old neighborhood,” I told him. “My parents thought about buying a house here, but when the gated community started, they went there instead.”

“Yeah?” He turned the engine off, watching me.

I nodded, looking down the street. “My older brother knows people who live here.”

Blaise gave me a somewhat sad smile. “Yeah. I know.”

“You do?”

“I’ve met a few of them.”

“You have?” I felt a knot tightening in my throat.

“My brother’s girlfriend ran into this one lady. She’s kinda nosy, but in a nice way. Anyway, she’s been over to the house. She and my mom are friends, and I’m pretty certain she knows your brother and his whole group.”

My tongue felt so heavy, lying on the bottom of my mouth. “Really?”

“Yeah. Malinda Decraw.” That sad smile remained on his face. “She’d really like you.”

Oh. I blinked back tears.

Blaise pulled the keys from the engine. “Let me slip inside and grab some stuff. I’ll be back super quick. Okay? You can stay here.”

I was distantly aware that I nodded to him, and he disappeared inside.

When was the last time my brother drove this road? Did he drive past Blaise’s house? What house does Malinda Decraw live in?

Was she inside now?

I could taste the tears on my face.

By the time Blaise returned, I had stopped crying, and when he got into the car, I tried to give him a smile. I meant to reassure him, but he saw through me.

“What are you feeling?” he asked.

He’d said he would always be honest, so I figured he deserved that too.

“Numb.”

He didn’t respond at first, but he started the engine and took my hand. He held it the entire drive back.

He parked in front of my neighbor’s house when we got back to my place. No one was around when we went inside. It was too late for Miss Sandy or Benny to still be here, and my mom texted earlier to say she and Dad were staying in Los Angeles through the weekend.