Live Me

“I want you so bad, Angel. I’m not gonna lie. All you have to do is say the words, and I’ll do the rest. Just tell me you want me, too.” He searched my eyes for a response, his expression desperate, hopeful, and pleading all at once.

I remained close-mouthed, unable to form a thought. I wished it were that simple. I wished I could just tell him I wanted him too and let him take away my misery. But I knew it wasn’t possible. There was no future for us. I didn’t have a heart to share with anyone. It’d been destroyed years ago.

A brief look of disappointment flashed across his face as he realized I wasn’t going to cooperate. He gave me a weak, halfhearted smile, and took my hand. “Come. I have another surprise for you.”

Steering me toward the living room, he stopped momentarily to retrieve something from one of the bags, hiding it behind his back. He propped me on the couch and ordered me to stay, then walked over to my DVD player. Making quick work of the buttons, he came and sat close enough beside me that I could feel the heat from his leg radiating into my skin through my jeans. I still hadn’t recovered from our previous encounter, and I wasn’t sure if I could handle him in this close proximity yet. I rubbed the tops of my thighs to alleviate the scolding burn. He appeared unaffected and didn’t seem to notice my discomfort.

How did he recuperate so quickly?

Maybe you’ve misread him all along, and he doesn’t feel as strongly about you as you thought. I told you this was a bad idea.

Shut. Up.

“Oh wait, I almost forgot.” Blake jumped up from his spot, and I was thankful to feel my temperature begin to decline.

I heard pots and pans clanging and, a few moments later, kernels were popping. I strained my neck to see what was going on in my kitchen. A moment later, he reappeared holding a giant bowl of fluffy popcorn.

“Did you just make that fresh?”

“Yep. It’s the only way I’ll eat it. It’s so much better than that microwave crap. You ever have it this way?”

“Sure. My mom used to make it all the time when I was little.” That one sentence built a lump in my throat. It was hard to think about how things used to be, how innocent I used to be. Softly, I added, “I haven’t had it in forever, though.”

He held the warm bowl out to me. I popped a few pieces into my mouth and closed my eyes, savoring the flavor.

He grabbed the remote, pressed play, and snuggled into my side, dipping his hand into the bowl.

I stiffened at the initial contact.

He didn’t look at me, just muttered through his mouthful, “Lighten up. I don’t bite. Only on Tuesdays.” Then he smiled that lopsided grin and settled even deeper into my side.

Ah, what the hell. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.

I rested my head on his shoulder as the beginning of The Notebook emerged on my television. “Seriously?”

“What? Can’t a guy enjoy a good romance?”

“Actually . . . no.” I laughed.

Blake tipped his nose in the air. “Well, you don’t know me very well then. I happen to appreciate a good heart-throbbing tearjerker.”

“If you say so,” I teased playfully. Whether he was telling the truth or not, The Notebook was one of my favorite movies, and this was just what I needed. Or so I thought.

We weren’t very far in when I noticed the similarities between Blake and Noah. The way Noah tried to get Allie to go out with him with all of his cute, quirky ways. Never giving up and following her around, asking her to do things she wouldn’t ordinarily do. The realization made me squirm.

“Don’t you even think about it,” he grumbled. “The qualifications for watching a movie are . . . we snuggle. So saddle up, sweetheart.” There was no question in his demanding tone. Though I hesitated, something about the playful way he’d said it made me do exactly as he’d requested.

I melted further into him, and he let out a contented sigh, then wiggled a little closer into my side. He took my hand in his, brushing his thumb along every surface of it absentmindedly. His easygoing, sweet and thoughtful personality made it easy to feel comfortable with him. He was passionate about the things he cared about and was a genuinely good person. I mean, what guy wanted to watch sappy love stories? I’ll give you one hint—none.

Toward the end, I tried so hard to hold back the waterworks that my throat burned with unshed tears. Eventually, I succumbed and let them out. When the movie ended, I was embarrassed I’d let Blake see me bawling like a baby.

He passed me a tissue. Was there anything he hadn’t thought of?

Looking at me through glistening eyes, he wiped away the tears pooling under my lower lashes. That simple, compassionate act made my heart open up a little bit more to him. My heart felt heavy, swollen with emotions I didn’t want to feel flying through it.

Needing to freshen up, I began to move away from him, but he gripped my arm and pulled me back. My heart flew into my throat, panicked. Numbness shot out to each of my limbs, tingling my brain.

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