My eyes close at the soft sweep of his lips over mine. My back goes rigid, but as his fingers stroke across it and our mouths meet for a second time, it relaxes. I relax into him completely, losing myself the way he wants me to.
I’m losing myself in a way I never thought I would again.
I’m losing myself in the steadiness of his hand on my back, his chest pressing against me, his lips caressing mine.
I’m losing myself in him.
Blake’s face hovers in front of mine as he draws back, and neither of us speak for a second.
“What was that?” I whisper, breaking the silence, too afraid to talk louder in case it breaks this moment.
Because this is the defining moment. It’s the one that’s been building between us – the one that would make me or break me. The one in which the lines between friends and more blur, warping into something that can and will change everything.
He laughs lowly and lets my hand go. His fingers run through my hair as he stares into my eyes. “That was me keeping my promise. I got lost right along with you.”
I let my hands slide across his shoulders and clasp behind his neck. “Do you get lost often?”
“Only when I’m with you,” he whispers.
I feel light, lighter than I have in a long time. Like I can truly breathe and I’m not being suffocated by the weight of my feelings. I have to grab this moment while I can, because I know if this is the only moment I have ever when I feel this way, if tomorrow I go back to being drowned by the darkness, I’ll regret it if I don’t. If I don’t take a risk right now I’ll forever hate myself for it.
So I raise myself onto my tiptoes and press my lips to Blake’s. My body flattens against his, and he tightens his grip on me, kissing me softly and slowly.
A fire sparks in my stomach, the flames flickering and growing with every pound of my heart against my chest. A fire I don’t think anything or anyone could put out.
And I let the flames flicker, I let my heart pound, and I let the rain fall down onto me. I let the world pass me by, and I lose myself wholly in Blake.
Chapter Sixteen – Blake
Abbi perches on the edge of my sofa, fidgeting with my TV remote. She’s staring blankly at the screen but not really watching it. I dry my hands off on a tea towel and join her on the sofa, putting my arm along the back of the cushions.
“Don’t be scared,” I tease her. “I promise Mum won’t eat you.”
She punches my knee gently, leaning back and resting her head against my arm. “I’m not scared.”
“Liar.” I twist a lock of her hair around my finger.
“Maybe a little,” she gives in. “I just… I don’t know.”
“I didn’t exactly paint a great picture of her before. We don’t have the greatest relationship, I admit, but she’s not all bad.” There’s a knock at the door, causing me to take a deep breath. “And she’s here.”
Abbi swallows and sits up straighter, tucking her hair behind her ear. I pause for a second before getting up to answer the door. I open it to the woman I grew up with.
Her blonde hair is perfectly coiffed, not a grey hair in sight, and her eyes are as vivid as ever, framed delicately by mascara. Powder creases in the light wrinkles covering her face, and the smile on her face could almost – almost – be described as genuine.
“Blake!” Mum holds her arms out and wraps them around me a little stiffly.
“Mum.” I try to inject some excitement into my voice but it falls flat. Luckily, she doesn’t notice.
“You look well.” She steps into the apartment, and her eyes flick around the front room, lingering for a second on Abbi.
“So do you. Mum…” I turn, and Abbi is standing in front of the sofa, her hands clasped in front of her. “This is Abbi. Abbi, this is my mum, Cara.”
Mum steps forward and shakes Abbi’s hand, exchanging pleasantries with her. Abbi looks nervous but puts on a wide smile anyway. It only just occurs to me that I might have forced her into this. Tori hated being around people, especially people she didn’t know, and I’ve never seen Abbi talk to anyone at ballet other than me or Bianca.
Well, shit. Now I feel like a class a jerk.
“Er, Mum, can I get you a glass of wine? Dinner won’t be long. It’s just cooking now.”
“That would be lovely.” She sits herself on the sofa with the elegance given to her by her staunch middle-class upbringing, the one she pressed heavily onto me as a child... Yet I still throw myself back on the sofa the way I did when I was three.
“Abbi?” I glance her way as I open the fridge and pull out Mum’s favorite Pinot Grigio.
“Hm?” She looks a little more relaxed.
“Wine?”
“Oh. Um, sure.”
I pour three glasses and carry them into the front room, passing them around. I take a seat next to Abbi, resisting the urge to throw myself down. The fact I still have a rebellious streak at twenty-one amuses me somewhat.
“So, Blake,” Mum begins. “Tell me about your job.”
“At the restaurant?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Do you have another job I don’t know about?”
“No.”
“Then yes, that’s the one I’d like to know about.”
Deep breath, Blake. “There’s not much to tell, really. It’s not bad hours, it pays well, and it’s fairly close to here. It gets rather busy on a weekend, as these places do, but nothing too hard to handle. My boss is a good guy to work with, and I’ve already got better on the seafood side of things.”
“Wonderful.” Mum smiles. “I’m glad it’s going well for you, darling. Mind you, I didn’t think it could be worse than that dreadful job you had in London. I will never understand why you took it in the first place, not when Yvette Mayfair offered you a job in her restaurant.”
“Yvette was paying me less an hour than the other place. It was worth it for a year to get the last of the money I needed to live here.”
Mum sniffs. “Yes, well. Like I said, this job sounds like a much better alternative for you and your skills.”
“I agree.” I look at the clock. “I have to check on dinner. I’ll be right back.”
I put my glass on the table and all but run into the kitchen. I feel a momentary twinge of guilt for leaving Abbi alone with her, but my God, five minutes in her presence and I’m already regretting agreeing to have dinner with her.