SWNOVELS My Rules: Chapter 11
My face falls. Oh no.
Why on earth would he want to risk our friendship for something that we both know would never work out?
“Blake—”
“I know,” he cuts me off.
“It’s just—”
“I know.” He opens the car door for me, and unsure of what to say, I slide into the car.
He gets into the driver’s seat, pulls out of the parking lot, and we begin to drive in silence.
Gone is the laughter that’s been between us, replaced by . . . I don’t even know what feeling this is.
And I would have asked for your number.
Horror, this is horror.
I stare straight ahead through the windshield as I try to make sense of what just happened.
Did he mean what it sounded like he meant, or have I totally misread this situation?
I glance over to Blake as he drives. He’s silent and somber. His jaw is ticking, as if he’s thinking, or perhaps something else . . . Is he angry?
“Um . . .” I try to think of something to say that will rectify this situation. “What have you got going on tomorrow?” I ask.
“Not much.” His fingers tighten around the steering wheel.
I stare over at him as I wait for him to say something . . . he doesn’t.
“I had a great time tonight.” I smile awkwardly.
He nods and keeps his eyes on the road. “Same.”
He can’t even look at me.
Fuck.
I twist my fingers together on my lap. Why would he say that . . . he knows we’re not like that. This is a disaster.
“Are you going to call Ruby?” I smile hopefully.
He shrugs.
“I’m not going to call Herman.” I shrug. “But I guess that was pretty obvious already.”
More silence, more staring through the windshield.
“So . . .” I shrug. I scramble for conversation, anything to restore how we were just ten minutes ago. “I’m going to set you up for your date next week with someone insanely hot.”
“Good,” he fires back as his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “Blond.”
My stomach dips as if I’m on a roller coaster. “Okay . . . blond.”
“Any requests for your date?” he says in an almost sarcastic tone.
“No,” I reply softly.
We round the corner onto Kingston Lane, and he pulls the car up to the front of my house. “Thanks.” I smile over at him. “I had a fun night.”
He nods. “Night.”
I stare over at him. No kiss on the cheek, no hug. Not even a smile.
I get out of the car and slam the door shut, and without even a wave, he drives to his house. I watch as his garage door slowly goes up.
What is his problem?
He drives into his garage, and the door shuts. I roll my eyes and storm into my house. He had to go ruin a good night, didn’t he?
Ugh . . . men.
Second after second, minute after minute, hour after hour. I stare at the ceiling as the words roll around in my head.
I would have asked for your number.
Why did he say that?
Was he playing around, or was he serious?
I would have been sure he was playing, but then he went quiet afterward, as if he was annoyed . . . hurt, even.
But it’s Blake, and he doesn’t feel like that about me.
Does he?
No. I’m sure he doesn’t.
I go over our dessert date tonight and how much fun we had together, and sadness falls over me.
Please don’t ruin this.
Blake
I hear my front door open and close. “Hey,” Henley calls.
“In the kitchen.” I flick the dish towel over my shoulder as I flip my eggs. “Want some breakfast?”
“No thanks, we’re getting going soon.” He slouches onto the stool at the counter.
“Coffee?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“I’ll have one too.” I dish my breakfast onto my plate. “Thanks.”
The front door opens, and Antony walks in. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I grumble.
Henley drags himself off the stool and begins to make our coffee. “How was last night?”
“Okay.” I give a subtle shrug. “I guess.”
He glances over at me as he makes the coffee. “Not fun?”
“Not really.”
“How come?”
“Just . . . boring night.”
Henley smirks as he passes me my cup of coffee. “Rebecca on a date with another dude a bit too much to handle?”
“Fuck off with this Rebecca shit.” I sit down and begin to cut through my toast. “We’re just friends.” I take a big bite.
“According to her.” He chuckles as he sips his coffee.
“According to me, actually,” I snap, annoyed.
“All right, so you have the details?”
“Yes.” I widen my eyes. “Why are you being such a fucking nag about this?”
“Well, we’re away for a week, and you need to know what to do.”
“I’m well and truly capable of looking after Barry the dog.” I sip my coffee. “Just fuck off to your honeymoon already.”
“So he’s going to sleep at Rebecca’s.”
“Yes.” I roll my eyes.
“And you are going to walk him each morning, and Antony is going to walk him each afternoon.”
“How many fucking walks does one dog need a day?”
“If you don’t walk him, he turns into a prick and ruins shit.”
“If he ruins any of my shit, he’s a dead dog.”
“What’s wrong with you today?”
“Nothing,” I snap. “It’s eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. Stop busting my balls about your dog.”
“Rebecca’s walking him now, and when they get home, she’s going to put him back in our yard.”
“Isn’t he staying at Rebecca’s?” I frown. “Why isn’t he going to her house?”
“Yes, but through the day, he has to go back to our yard, because if he’s left in anyone else’s yard while nobody is home, he will try to escape.”
I drag my hand down my face. “Got it.”
“And you’ll call me if anything happens.”
“Yes.”
“Did you speak to Taryn about the flash drive?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m avoiding Taryn like the plague.”
“I’ve been thinking about this.” He goes to the window and peers through the curtains into the cul-de-sac. “I don’t think anything happened with Taryn.”
“I’m sure it didn’t.” I keep eating. “Why do you say that?”
“You have zero attraction to her.”
“I know.”
“And you never hit on girls you don’t want.”
“Exactly.” I keep eating. “I’m telling you, I did not hook up with Taryn. But then she said she had footage of me and Antony.”
“Yeah.” Antony winces. “I’d find out what that is . . . stat.”
“Who did I get the love bite from, then?” I continue thinking out loud.
“I don’t know.” Henley keeps peering through the curtains. “Logan’s making his move.”
I keep eating, uninterested.
“He’s just waiting to sink his teeth into her and share her with his housemates.”
“Pretty sure Taz has already tasted everyone in that house.”
“Not Taryn. Rebecca.”
“What?” I snap.
“Every day Logan is out on the street, tuning her.”
I get up and march to the window and peer through the curtains. Rebecca is standing in front of her house talking to Logan. He’s wearing a barely there singlet with his muscles hanging out, and she’s wearing her gym clothes, with Barry on his lead. “Good,” I snap. “He can have her.” I march back to the table and go back to my breakfast.
“Am I sensing a little animosity with Rebecca today?”
“Nope.” I shovel a forkful of food into my mouth.
“I downloaded this Kindle app,” Antony says as he sips his coffee.
“And?” Henley asks.
“Well . . .” He shrugs. “There’s a plethora of porn on there.”
My eyes flick up from the newspaper I’m reading. “Vampire porn?”
“Yep.” He nods.
“Alien porn?” Henley replies.
“Uh-huh.”
“How many cocks do these dudes have?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I didn’t get the books . . . obviously.”
“Well, get to it, man. We need all the fucking tips we can get.”
“I’m not sure about you . . . but my one cock will never be two.” Antony rolls his eyes. “Which isn’t ideal.”
“No wonder women have ridiculously high expectations these days. How are we supposed to compete with this shit?” Henley scoffs.
“It’s all right for you. You’ve already got your girl, and she thinks you’ve got a golden cock,” Antony fires back.
“Because I do.” Henley widens his eyes. “Everybody knows that.”
“I seriously doubt that.” I go back to reading my paper. “I’m going to download this app myself. I’m actually digging this vampire shit.”
“Okay, you read a vampire one, I’ll read an alien one, and Henley, you read a kink one.”
“What kind of kink?” He frowns.
“I don’t know, like . . .” Antony shrugs as he tries to think. “I can’t even think of a kink that women would want.”
“Dildo?”
“That’s not a kink, that’s normal,” Henley replies.
I smirk as I keep reading the paper.
“What?”
“No woman’s ever pulled a dildo out on me. My cock is more than enough.”
They roll their eyes. “In your dreams.”
Antony looks around as if remembering something. “Oh, I almost forgot why I came over. Is my duffel bag here?” he asks.
“Why would it be here?” I frown.
“Last year you borrowed it for something.”
“I don’t remember.” I think for a moment. “Oh, there is a random bag underneath the bed in the second spare bedroom upstairs.”
“You didn’t think to return it?”
“I didn’t know whose it was!”
He takes off up the stairs.
“Did Rebecca sleep with her date last night?” Henley asks.
“No. She did not.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I dropped her at home.”
His eyes light up. “Did you sleep with her?”
“This isn’t a fucking porno. She’s not sleeping with everyone, you know.”
“Did you fight?”
“Will you just shut up about Rebecca Dalton?” I keep eating. “I give zero fucks about her.”
He smiles into his coffee cup as he watches me.
“Stop.”
Antony walks back into the room with the duffel bag under his arm.
“You found it?” I ask.
“Yeah, who’ve you been boning in the spare room?”
“What?”
He holds up a pair of pink pajama pants. They have big red love hearts all over them. “Found these under the bed.”
“What?” I screw up my face. “Where under the bed?”
“At the top, in between the wall and bed.”
I take them off him and stare at them in confusion. “I have no idea whose these are.”
“Bec’s about to get it on with Logan,” Henley calls from the window.
“Yeah, I guessed that.” Antony goes to the coffee machine. “He’s putting in the work. Every day he’s out at the front of her house, small talking.”
“Small talk from the small dick.” I go to the bin and scrape my leftovers into it. “We need to bomb that Navy House as soon as possible.”
“Knock, knock,” Rebecca’s voice calls from the front door.
Great.
“Speak of the devil,” Henley mouths.
“Fuck. Off,” I mouth back. I snatch the pajama pants off him and stuff them into the cutlery drawer. “Come in,” I call.
Rebecca comes into view; her dark hair is up in a high ponytail, and her skin has a just-exercised glow to it. Her big brown eyes find mine across the room. “Hi.” She smiles.
“Hi.” I keep washing my plate and cutlery.
“Hello.” She and the boys begin to chat while I take my time washing the last few coffee cups.
I don’t even want to talk to her.
Go home.
“Are you all packed?” Rebecca asks Henley.
“Yep. Juliet is just dropping her parents at the airport, and then we’re leaving. I’ve been briefing the boys.”
“Right.” She looks between us.
“Blake is walking him in the morning and Ant in the afternoon.”
“Uh-huh.” She smiles. “And sleepovers at my house.”
“Blake is going to give him breakfast every morning back at our house.”
“He isn’t a fucking baby,” I snap. “Relax, I think we can look after a stupid dog for a week.” I pick up the dish towel. “Go . . . screw your new wife, stupid.”
“What’s wrong with you today?” Ant curls his lip.
“Nothing is wrong with me.” I widen my eyes. “Apart from the fact that it’s eight o’clock in the morning, and I have a lot of annoying people in my kitchen.”
“Blake, do you want to come over for dinner tonight?” Rebecca asks.
“No, thank you.” I keep wiping down my kitchen counter with vigor.
“I’m making your favorite. Lasagna,” she says sweetly to try and coax me into it.
“I have plans.”
“Oh . . . okay.” Disappointment sounds through her voice.
“What are you doing?” Antony asks.
“I have a date.”
“With who?” Antony asks.
Shut. Up.
“With whom,” I correct him. “And that is none of your business. I’m taking a shower.” I walk upstairs as I hear them continue to chat. I take my time and shower. I make my bed, and I can still hear them downstairs.
Go home already.
Eventually, I can’t dawdle anymore, and I make my way back downstairs. Now they’re all on my front porch, sitting on the steps, and I walk out and sit in the chair.
“So, Bec . . . ,” Antony says. “What’s going on with Logan?”
Her eyes immediately flick to me and then back to Antony. “Nothing.”
“He seems interested.”
“Ah . . . not at all.” She shrugs casually as she tries to blow it off. “He’s just being friendly.”
“Are you going out with Ruby tonight, Blake?” She turns her attention to me.
“No.”
Her eyes search mine. “So someone new, then?”
“Yes.”
She nods, as if thinking over my answer.
“Anyway, I’m going to get going,” Henley says. He gives Antony a slap on the back and then hugs me. “Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”
“Ha. How can I when the troublemaker will be away?”
“I’m coming over to see Juliet in a minute,” Rebecca tells him.
“Okay, bye, guys.” Antony and Henley disappear, and Rebecca lingers.
Go home.
“I’ll see you later.” I force a smile as I go to walk inside.
“Blake . . .”
I turn back to her.
“Are we okay?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“You just seem . . . off.”
“I’m fine.” I point inside my house with my thumb. “I’ve got a lot to do. I’ll catch you later, okay?” I walk into my house, and I hear the screen go as she walks in behind me.
“You said last night that you sometimes wish you didn’t live on Kingston Lane.”
I roll my eyes as I walk into my kitchen.
Here we go.
I go to the fridge.
“Blake.” I pour myself a glass of water. “Can you look at me?”
I exhale heavily and drag my eyes to meet hers. “What?”
“And I cut you off, and I didn’t say what I wanted to say.”
My eyes hold hers.
“What I wanted to say was that I would never wish for you not to live here or for us not to be friends.”
I nod. “Is that it?”
“And . . .” She cuts herself off.
“What?”
“And I know we don’t talk about anything important.”
I raise my eyebrow.
“But my conversations with you about nothing important . . . are my most important conversations.”
Her eyes search mine.
“And I wouldn’t trade those conversations for anything, not even your number.”
I nod once. “Got it.”
“Because when you give someone your number, they come and go. And . . . I don’t want you to ever go anywhere.”
We stare at each other.
“Blake . . .” She hesitates, as if she’s trying to articulate herself. “We’re in this super-short window of time where we can be close friends. Because as soon as you meet your future wife, we won’t be able to hang out on weeknights, and you won’t be able to sleep on my couch whenever you feel like it.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s always going to think there’s something going on, and it’s weird to sleep on another woman’s couch when you have a girlfriend.”
Hmm . . .
“And the thought of that makes me sad.”
“Me too,” I say softly.
“But not as sad as the thought of not being your friend and never seeing you again.” She takes my hand in hers. “Me and you are meant to be friends forever, Blake.”
“I know.”
“I just want to make sure we’re okay.”
“You’re being overdramatic. We’re more than okay. Relax, I just wanted to have sex with you.”
“Ha!” She explodes. “How can you have sex with a sore dick?”
“Because I knew it would be the only time you could handle my power.” I grab my crotch. “My thirty percent capacity is equal to a normal man’s two hundred percent. I wanted to give you a fair chance of survival.”
She laughs out loud. “So you’re a superhuman lover now?”
“That’s right.”
“Why are you such an idiot?”
I smirk. “Just stick to your end of the bargain and get me a blonde with great tits for Saturday night.”
She smiles. “And if I don’t?”
“Then we’re not friends anymore . . . I’m done with you,” I tease. “Then we can have sex.”
She laughs and pulls me into a hug and squeezes me, and eventually I put my arms around her waist and hug her back. I nuzzle my head into her neck and close my eyes. She’s warm and soft and . . . strangely comforting.
“Do you really have a date tonight?” she asks.
“I made it up when I didn’t know lasagna was on the table.” I sigh. “Kind of regretting it now, to be honest.”
“Meh . . . I lied. I’m not cooking,” she mutters dryly. “I was going to buy a frozen one.”
I smile into her hair. “Good thing I’m going out, then.”
Rebecca
I stare at the figures on the screen.
IMAGES SOLD: 0
“Oh, for god’s sake,” I huff. How can you sell so many images one week and then this week sell nothing?
The images I uploaded this week were good . . . or so I thought.
How can the income go from $5,000 to nothing? I thought I’d cracked the code and hit the jackpot.
This online marketing business is so damn unpredictable.
So infuriating.
I get into the shower while I think.
What worked last week . . . well, apart from the fake-jizz part? I troll my brain as I think.
Spontaneity.
Maybe my photos are too staged . . . hmm, that’s probably it. What if I took some photos in a different location?
Yes.
I wash my hair while my mind runs away with the possibilities of shoot locations.
Maybe the beach. That could work. Sand and oil: those perverts are sure to get off with anything oily.
Damn it, I should have gotten some more in the hotel room last weekend.
Ugh, I was hoping to have some kind of idea of how this was going to go financially moving forward. I’m meeting with John tomorrow afternoon to discuss his non-divorce proposal.
Ugh . . . I need to up my foot game . . . and stat.