“Was I what? Ugly, or left on the step?” he questions, amusement laced in his tone.
“Both?” I respond hesitantly as he throws his head back in laughter.
“No, Princess, I was not ugly.” He chuckles, pretending to flick away a tear from his eye. “But I was left on the doorstep.”
My heart drops as he continues with his small chuckles that don’t feel quite as humorous anymore. Blake seems like this energetic guy who doesn’t care about anything other than hockey and himself, but I’m starting to learn that he’s morelike an onion than anything. He isn’t shallow like I'd wrongfully thought, he has layers. So intricate and detailed that the average person would overlook. I want to study his layers.
I want to understand him.
So, instead of changing the subject, I dig deeper. “Does it make you—”
“Feel a type of way? Nah. If they were cowardly enough to leave me on a doorstep, then they’d be too cowardly to take good care of me, Cleo.” He shrugs and for the first time, I’m stunned by the use of my own name.
Instead of calling him out on it, I try to formulate a sentence, but he interrupts yet again.
“I don’t want to meet my birth parents if that’s your next question. I love my parents and I thank my birth parents for leaving me on that doorstep because had they kept me, I would be living a completely different life.” He gives me a small smile. A smile so soft and innocently different from his usually cocky smirks.
My chest tightens as Blake reaches into his bag, pulling out the small silver camcorder assigned to us. With a grin, Blake flicks the power button on but pauses before recording me.
“I want to know why you’re scared of cameras,” he says, playing with the camera’s controls and I stiffen as his words process fully.
Does he know about what happened in New York? How does he know that I’m scared? I’m not scared! I just can’t—I don’t like… Fuck.
His eyes widen, Blake pulls the camera from his eye as the tips of his ears burn a bright red.
“I don’t mean it like that! I just mean—”
I take a deep breath looking up at him before plastering on a smile, he winces at the action but I brush him off as I blink twice.
“I’m not scared of cameras. I’m scared of the monsters that are behind them.”
At that, Blake tilts his head and I have a feeling that he wants to dig deeper but the doorbell chime pauses any further interrogations.
“I’ll get it.”
I watch as he leaves, my gaze lingering on his tight ass for a second longer than appropriate as he strides out the room. As soon as I hear him open the door, I smack a hand to my head.
I almost told a complete stranger about a past that not even my closest friends know.
Fuck me…
The brunette man enters the room with his back to me, I can tell he has a large stupid grin on his face even before he turns around. And when he does, I’m stunned to see five boxes in his arms instead of three.
Did he buy more pizzas because of me? No… I doubt that—
“I couldn’t choose between barbecue and the chicken supreme so I got both since I’ve never tried them and I trust your opinion on food—”
My stomach growls silently, a soft moan escapes my mouth as the sweet and savory smells wafts around the air creating an intoxicating aroma. My mouth waters.
“Blake, I could seriously kiss you right now.” The thought I’d been having is vocalized so loud in the now silent room.
He visibly gulps as he looks down at me on the floor. “Princess, you’re making it so hard for me to do the whole just friends thing when you say things like that, looking at me likethat.” He groans.
“Looking at you? Baby, I’m looking at the five large pies in your hand.” Rolling my eyes, I hop up from my seat on the floor and snatch two of the boxes from the top of the stack. Blake chuckles plopping down across from me on the spacious floor.
“Baby?” He says quietly just as I plant a slice of supreme chicken in my mouth.
This is fucking nirvana.
