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“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Don’t you want to protect yourself?”
“Sure.”
“You don’t sound very convincing.”
“I don’t know why, but I mean what I say.” But if it all comes down to it, which it has, I’ll choose my sister’s safety over my own.
As he starts scrutinizing me, I decide that I’m done with this conversation. I have more important and pressing issues to worry about.
“Totally off topic, but did you by chance hear back from your social worker?” I ask, taking another step back from him. Not that I’m afraid of him. It just seems that standing too close to Blaise Porterson somehow makes me stupid and foggy-headed, which is so the last thing I need right now.
His mouth turns downward as he glances at the space between us. “She hasn’t yet. If I don’t hear back from her by the time schools over, I’ll give her a call. As for my dad, I tried to call him before first period started, but his secretary said he had a meeting this morning with a new guy he hired, but he told me he’d have my dad call me back when he wasn’t busy.” He sighs. “In my dad’s world, that could mean days, so I might have to stop by his house.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I start, but he talks over me.
“Yeah, I sort of do. I need to talk to him about some other stuff anyway.”
I can’t tell if he’s lying or not.
“Okay, but if you change your mind, I’m perfectly fine with it.”
After what he told me about his dad hitting him, I’m in no way comfortable making him go see him just for my benefit. Besides, considering I’m Mr. Porterson’s new guy, I’m not sure if I have any more questions for Mr. Porterson. He made everything pretty damn searing clear this morning. But I do need to find out more about the situation with Axel.
“Do you think it’s okay if I go into my house today?” I wonder. “Or is this Axel dude going to stalk my house like twenty-four seven?”
He nibbles on his bottom lip. “I think you need to probably wait until I talk to my dad.”
“How’s your dad going to help us with Axel? I thought they were enemies?”
“They are, but like all enemies, they still know each other’s business.”
“All enemies do that?”
“Haven’t you ever heard the term keep you friends close and your enemies closer?”
“But then, why do they get pissed off when the people who work for them associate with each other, or work for both?”
“Because they’re both power hungry and want control,” he explains tightly. “If they do it, it’s fine, because they’re the bosses. But if the people below them do it, it’s disrespectful. Even my brothers and sister and I aren’t technically supposed to associate with anyone connected to Axel.” His jaw tightens as he stares off over my shoulder. “Amelia makes that really fucking complicated.”
“Do you two have history together or something?”
His jaw nearly smacks the ground. “Are you shitting me right now?”
I shake my head. “You seem really pissed off every time you mention her, like she’s your ex-girlfriend or something.”
His face contorts in disgust. “I swear I’ve never wanted to or have dated Amelia.” He gives a short, considering pause. “She’s not my type.”
“Yeah, your type seems more like that girl in our first period class. I don’t know her name, but she’s got blonde hair, blue eyes, big boobs, and a super, super pretty face.” I bite back a smile, angle my head to my side, and tap my finger against my lips. “Yeah, you two would be super pretty together. With her pretty face”—I pinch his cheek—“and your pretty boy face, you’d be the perfect, pretty couple.”
He stares at me, unimpressed. “You think me and Layla would make a perfect couple?”
“Her name’s Layla?” I muse. “Layla and Blaise? Yeah, it has a pretty ring to it.”
His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he stares at me unnervingly. “And what sort of name is Hadley?”
I grin. “A feisty name.”
“Nah, it seems more pretty than feisty.” He steps toward me and places his hand on the wall behind me, leaning in so our bodies are mere inches from each other. “The girl the name belongs to, however, might be a different story.”
“Oh, she’s totally feisty,” I assure him, refusing to step back.
“Maybe.” The corners of his lips quirk. “But she’s also pretty.”
I shake my head. “No, she’s not.”
“How do you figure?”
“Because pretty is more of a term used to describe a girlie girl who’s attractive, something I’m definitely not.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely not pretty.”
I grin, but my heart stupidly stings, like it wants to be called pretty.
What a dumbass.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear with his free hand. “I think beautiful is more accurate.”
I roll my eyes so hard they nearly get stuck in the back of my head. My heart, however, flutters. I already established how it’s a clueless dumbass.
“Oh, my God,” I say. “Seriously?”
“What?” Blaise asks innocently. “I’m just giving you a compliment.”
“In the cheesiest way ever. And besides, I don’t need any compliments.” I place my hand on his chest to shove him back and notice how swiftly his heart is racing.
So weird. Is he nervous or worried or something? Why?
“Then, what do you need?” he asks, refusing to budge against my half-ass attempt to shove him back.
“Lots of things, but none of those things are compliments.”
“Why? Do they make you uncomfortable?”
“No. But talking about this is making me irritated.”
“Sorry.” He sounds anything but. “You are beautiful, though.”
“What is wrong with you?” I scoff, beyond aggravated.
I don’t even understand why I’m pissed off. He isn’t being mean. No, I think he’s attempting to be nice and genuine, and for some reason, that’s pissing me off. I’m not used to nice and genuine guys, and I don’t need one in my life right now. If I did, then I’ll probably want to keep him, and that will lead to the breaking of my no dating rules, something I desperately need now.
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he argues. “I’m just telling you what I already told you in that text I sent earlier.”
“Yeah, I know, but I was irritated with that text.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to send it.”
A bit of hurt prickles through me, but I ninja punch it in the throat—metaphorically, of course.
“Good. Because you don’t need to be thinking that I’m beautiful or telling me that I am.” I’m on the verge of yelling.
Yep, Blaise nailed it when he called me crazy.
“I still think you’re beautiful. I just didn’t mean to send the text.” He raises his voice to match mine, slanting closer.
My breathing accelerates. “Why did you type it at all?”
“I don’t know.” He’s breathing equally as hard, his attention seared on my lips. “Because it’s what I think.”
“Don’t,” I warn shakily, my breath faltering from my lips.
He remains mesmerized by my lips. “Don’t what?”
It’s terrifying how much I want to remain motionless. How much I want to feel his lips on mine. How much I just want to feel for once.
“Don’t kiss me.” My voice is weak, desperate. “Please. I can’t handle it right now.”
His throat muscles work as he swallows hard. Then he tears his gaze off my mouth and moves back, lowering his hand from the wall. “Okay.”
I nod unsteadily. “Thank you.”
He nods again, taking another step back. “We should probably go back inside.”
Great. Are things going to be awkward between us now?
“Okay, but can I just ask you one more question?” I ask, pushing a
way from the wall.
“Other than the one you just asked?” he teases, and I realize we might just be okay.
“Ha, ha, ha, you’re so funny,” I deadpan. “But yeah, I was just wondering who the old people are in there. Because no one ever actually answered that question earlier.”
“That’s because they’re not old.”
“Okay … How about older people?”
“Much better.” His smile is genuine. “They’re the owners of the auto shop and this bar.”
“How do you guys know them?”
“Jay used to work for my dad but quit when I was about ten or so. He was probably the closest thing I had to a dad up until that point.” He smiles wistfully. “He moved away from Honeyton for a while but returned a couple years ago. He’s really been there for me and my brothers and sister since then. Gave us jobs. Helped me learn how to do grown up things. Stuff like that.”
“Your eyes light up when you talk about him,” I remark. “He must be a good guy.”
“He is. And so is his wife, Sofie, the older woman.” He sweeps strands of his hair out of his eyes. “They’ve been talking about giving us the shop forever, but honestly, I didn’t really believe it was going to happen. I think because I’ve subconsciously gotten used to disappointment and naturally have a hard time believing good stuff will happen to me.”
“I actually understand where you’re coming from,” I say without any forethought, then instantly cringe.
Sometimes, I can be so open with Blaise that it’s frightening.
“I’m not surprised,” he tells me. “You and I are kind of similar in ways.”
My natural instinct is to argue, but I know he’s right, so … “Yeah, I guess we sort of are.”
His lips threaten to turn upward. “Did you just agree with me?”
