My heart’s beating fast, pumping wild energy through my veins. Here I was, minding my own business, my thoughts lost in the sculpture I’m getting ready to create, and all of a sudden I find myself cocooned in a luxury sports car next to the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. How did this happen?
It’s just breakfast, I remind myself. We’ll have pancakes, enjoy the view for an hour, then I’ll get Blake to take me back to my dorm and I’ll get on with my life. I’ll immerse myself in work and Blake Travis will fade out into a sweet, one-off memory of that time I went for a ride in a Mustang with a quarterback.
I try not to stare at the way his tanned, strong, hair-dusted arm flexes when he changes the gears of his car. Or the way his jeans hug the thick muscles of his athletic thighs. Or even how his shirt pulls tight over the hard planes of his broad chest and his burly shoulders.
He catches me looking at him and I blush again.
“All right?” he says.
“Yeah.” The crazy thing is: I am all right. My body is humming along with the low roar of his car’s engine. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel scared. I feel alive, like Blake’s presence has turned me electric and hyper-aware. It’s fun, driving in his car with him. I can’t remember the last time I had fun.
We’re driving along a road with big houses and views through the trees of a blue lake. He turns into a driveway. The house is huge, made of stone and wood. “This is it,” he says.
“This is your house?”
“My family’s. But Gabriel is the C.E.O. of his own business in Dallas and Ethan’s second tour in Afghanistan ends in about a month.”
“Wow. He’s in the army?”
“Marines.”
“Sounds like you have a high-achieving family.”
He doesn’t answer this, but the garage door is opening and he drives the car in. There’s a jet ski, three fancy-looking motorcycles and a new pickup truck parked in the three-car garage.
The garage door is closing behind us. My heart skips a beat. I’m alone with him. He’s a complete stranger, he probably weighs twice what I do and could crush me like a bug if he ever felt like it, and he’s actually kind of bossy. I shouldn’t feel comfortable with him. Or safe. But from some reason, I do.
His smile is genuine and there isn’t a shred of anything devious about the way he acts. He seems honest. And the truth is, I feel more comfortable with this hunky quarterback than I have with anyone for a long time. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s true.
Blake turns off the ignition and we just sit there for a second, as the silence settles. He turns and looks straight into my eyes. Even in the dim interior of his car, his irises gleam blue. He really is stunning.
“Thank you for coming to have breakfast with me. I’m really glad you’re here. I just wanted to tell you that. I want us to be friends.”
This almost makes me smile. “That sounds good. Friends.” I can’t think past anything but that, for now. It’s a start. The word makes me think about what it’ll be like to be friends with Blake Travis. Will it be enough? I already have this feeling it won’t be enough, for either of us. But I can’t even go there. Not yet.
My stomach growls again.
Blake laughs. “Come on. Let me cook you some breakfast.”
We climb out of his Mustang and I follow him into his kitchen, which is unbelievable. The countertops are marble and everything is modern and top-of-the-line. The views of the river and the trees look like something out of a home design magazine spread. One that’s been littered with football gear and trophies. It’s a beautiful house but very obviously a bachelor pad.
Blake opens French doors that lead out onto an expansive deck. Lounge chairs circle a gas fire. There’s an enormous hot tub on a raised platform. The view of the lake is stunning. I’ve never in my life been inside such a beautiful house.
Blake disappears and for a few seconds I just let myself take it all in. I’m not sure how my life took such a gargantuan U-turn over the past few days but I’m not going to bother analyzing it. Today I’m just going to go with it. It feels too good not to.
When Blake reappears he’s carrying two glasses of champagne. “I know it’s still early but I think we should celebrate. To the best year yet. Happy birthday, Skye.”
“Happy birthday, Blake.”
We clink our glasses and I take a sip.
“To waiting,” he says.
I gaze up at him. His blue eyes sparkle and his dark hair is as shiny as mink fur. This is the first time I’ve ever been so in the moment that I don’t want to think about yesterday or tomorrow. All I want is right now. With him. He’s watching me and I blush. I can’t help it: I wonder if his thick hair is as soft as it looks. I wonder how his lips would feel against mine. I wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. I’ve never been kissed. I find myself hoping Blake might be my first.
He takes my hand and gently pulls me back inside. He pats a raised stool and I sit. “Since we’re going to be friends, while I cook you breakfast I want you to tell me about yourself. I want to know what makes you happy.”