CHAPTER NINE
BLAKE
“I’m not strange, weird, off, nor crazy, my reality is just different from yours.”
- Alice in Wonderland
“You’re pretty,” I slurred as I petted CJ’s face in the back of the cab we were sharing. Once the doctors gave me a massive dose of Benadryl, the allergic reaction I was having started going away immediately. I was instructed to see an allergist to find out exactly what it was that caused the reaction, so that was on my to-do list for later. Luckily, they’d given me all this information on my paperwork when I was discharged. I’d been pumped so full of meds that I could barely see straight. No way in hell would I remember all the little details when I finally came down from my medicinal high.
“You know it’s extremely emasculating to call a man pretty, right?”
CJ gripped my hand and pulled it away from his face. I wanted to climb in his lap and kiss the crap out of him, but he’d thwarted all my sexual advances in the last hour. And there had been a ton. I’d be all sorts of ashamed when I woke up tomorrow, but whatever cocktail they’d given me at the hospital was stronger than anything of which I’d ever been under the influence. And whatever it was made me horny as hell. Well, horny for CJ, anyway.
My common sense was somewhere inside of me, telling me to abort mission. If the first twenty attempts to seduce him didn’t work, then continuing to do it was only going to make things really uncomfortable later. Unfortunately, that niggling voice was much too quiet to be heard over my roaring sex drive. Even totally sober I had a hard time not giving in to my attraction to CJ. Him being a giant jerk and making his dislike of me so apparent always helped. But for the last three hours he’d sat by my side, held my hand and taken care of me. He didn’t have to do that. I even told him to go home about a dozen times, but he always insisted on staying.
How the hell was I supposed to resist him after that?
After trying to grope him a third time, CJ wrapped his arms around my body and held me against him in a giant bear hug. It worked in keeping my hands from straying. It did little to tamp down my growing affection toward him. However, without the distraction of trying to get into CJ’s pants, I was left to reflect on how incredibly stupid I felt. Not that some random allergy I wasn’t aware of causing my face to swell and my body to turn so red it looked like I was glowing was my fault, but still. Talk about being seen at your worst. And CJ had been such a trooper about it. Not once did he mock me or take pictures for blackmail. He just sat quietly by my side, there for moral support. As my boss? My friend? My potential future lover?
What the hell did I even want him to be?
CJ helped me upstairs when we reached our apartment building, but by that point I was sobering up quickly. Embarrassment will do that to a person - suck all the fun right out of a situation. Awkward goodbyes were given when we reached our doors, and after reassuring him ten times that I could manage on my own and didn’t need him to accompany me inside, I was finally alone. I slumped against the wall and slid down to my butt. Then banged my head against it a few times for good measure. I honestly couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh or cry. My lips and eyes still felt a little puffy and my skin was itchy, but for the most part, I was back to normal.
I wanted to call Michelle and tell her what happened at Rose’s, and then subsequently, the ER, but she was in a class. She’d also told me earlier that she’d be going straight from class to a study group and then had to cram for a big exam. She would probably be pissed at me for not letting her know about the whole debacle right away, but I wasn’t going to distract her. School was important to Michelle and she didn’t need to be worrying about me when I was completely fine.
I wished I had a friend to call. Someone who could bring a bottle of wine and ice cream and make me laugh it off, but I had no one.
Once again I was struck with the reality that I hadn’t made any friends yet. Sure, I’d become kinda friends with the guys at work, but they were guys. It was different. And it’d only been a week. None of them had girlfriends, either. How the hell does one make friends in a new city?
Friends were hard for me in general. The whole reason I was such an extrovert was because of how hard it was to make friends. I learned early in life just how difficult it was to be myself without fear of rejection. Something everyone struggles with, I know. But rejection for me stung a little deeper than it did for other people, from what I could tell. As I got older, it got especially difficult. I gravitated towards the outcasts and loners. Standing by and watching someone else suffer from loneliness or get picked on for being different just didn’t sit well with me.
The problem with that? No one wants a pity friend. My friendship wasn’t out of pity, but it seemed to always be taken that way. For a long time I looked like the popular kids. We weren’t rich, but we were upper-middle class and lived comfortably. Before I started branching out and finding myself, I just dressed like my peers because it was easiest. It was all I knew. Only I couldn’t help but be drawn to the ones who stood out from the crowd, even if negatively. Teenagers are mean little shits, but some of these kids took it and never complained. They didn’t change who they were to try and fit in, they just took the looks and occasional insults tossed their way and kept right on moving.
I wanted that for myself. I just didn’t know how to get it. So I tried time and again to befriend the ones sitting apart from the rest, only to be rejected just the same. It felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere. Why was it so hard to find friends who would accept me as I am? Most days it felt like conformity was the only way to avoid a lonely existence. But I didn’t want to conform. To anything. I didn’t want to be just one thing. My interests were vast and limiting myself to one or a few of them felt suffocating.
My way of adapting was to take on a larger-than-life approach. Instead of easing myself into a friendship and letting my true self become visible in small increments, I just threw it all out there from the start. It was so much simpler. Investing time, energy and effort into someone only to watch them walk away when they realized just how big your personality was made it hurt so much more. Exposing myself immediately and giving them the opportunity to leave before I became attached lessened the ache. Not a lot, but enough to make it tolerable.
So far my bold approach hadn’t exactly worked. I’d made some fun friends over the years, but none that lasted. People tended not to stick around where I was concerned. That’s why Michelle’s decision to move to New York for college had hurt so badly. And why I’d so easily decided to move here with her. Except it wasn’t me and Michelle against the world like it had been before. She had a life, friends, classes. I was happy for her. Truly, I was. But this time was harder than school. Kids were jerks, but you had a pool of people to choose from. People who had no choice but to spend time with you. Built-in friends. In the city, I was one of a million. It felt like everyone around me had a purpose, a goal, a plan for their lives.
I had copious amounts of free time and nothing to do with it. Awesome.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to be alone in my apartment, depressing myself by reflecting on my pathetic existence.
Jeez, these drugs make me melodramatic.
Before I could think better of it, I walked next door and knocked on CJ’s door. Then I knocked again when he didn’t answer. Because apparently, I’m a masochist.
No answer. No sound from inside. Not surprising. He was probably hiding. First I showed up at his family dinner, which he was obviously not happy about, then he had to drag me to the hospital. I’d been all about accosting him at his mom’s house when Rose called me about it, but once I saw his face, I felt guilty. Like I was intruding on his personal time with his family. Because, ya know, I totally was. Bugging him at work or his apartment felt less personal. Intruding on his family dinner just felt wrong, despite the fact that his mom had invited me. Her reassurances hadn’t assuaged the guilt that I had crossed some sort of invisible line. I knew her motives were good. She wanted to break her son out of his shell and put some life back into him, and at first, I’d been all about it.
Now I was wavering. In a place where I had no friends to begin with, did I really want to be making enemies? Also, there was a nagging voice in the back of my head that kept trying to pipe up and remind me that I didn’t want CJ to hate me. And that, right there, was dangerous territory. Where in the past I’d had no problem inserting myself into someone’s life, it had never been personal. Not at first. Not until I knew they’d be around longer than a few months. I didn’t set out with the goal of wanting one specific person to be in my life. It was a huge part of why dating was difficult for me. Even with Dan, I’d been detached. Hence the reason it was so easy to end the relationship when I moved.
Why was I so fixated on CJ? It had nothing to do with how attractive he was. I knew the difference between wanting friendship and wanting sex. The man had so many damn walls up, I’d have a better chance of getting the Queen of England to be my new bestie. And yes, I was attracted to him. Ridiculously so. But it was more than that. From the first moment our eyes met, I felt drawn to him in ways I couldn’t even begin to understand. Going for a job interview and it winding up being his company? I’d stupidly felt like it was fate. Then his mom went and gave me the perfect excuse to get close to him. Do it under the guise of helping someone else, instead of admitting to myself that I wanted to get to know him.
Feeling stupid and defeated, I started to turn away from CJ’s door and resigned myself to another night at home alone, wallowing in self pity. Something I didn’t indulge in often, but I was feeling too weak - and drugged - to resist.
But then his door swung open and I froze. I went so far as to pinch myself for good measure. Because I’d had this exact dream numerous times before, where a man answered his door with water dripping down his bare chest and down his chiseled abs before disappearing underneath a tiny towel that wrapped around his waist and hid almost nothing. Initially that dream had involved Stephen Amell, but after meeting CJ, Stephen had been quickly replaced.
My imagination had not done CJ justice. Real life was so much better.
He didn’t say anything as I took my time soaking in every inch of him. If he was annoyed or amused or simply bored, I couldn’t tell ya. I was transfixed. My eyes skated over his broad shoulders, down his biceps and over to his chest. Every inch of the man was toned perfection. Defined abs led to a trail of hair that disappeared beneath the towel. I would have lingered on the bulge there, but if he was going to interrupt my ogling soon, I needed to drink in as much of him as possible.
The towel split just below his right hip, giving me a peek at his strong, muscular thigh. So consumed with my slow perusal, I hadn’t noticed until I got to his knee that something was amiss. Just below his right knee his leg just…stopped. It was then that I noticed the scarring. How had I missed that the other day when he’d been dressing in his office? All down his right side were jagged pieces of raised skin, some larger and more pronounced than others. The scars were angry looking, and the skin surrounding them looked to have sustained some serious burns.
Not until my fingertips lightly traced one of the large scars that stretched from just below his right pectoral to the underside of his rib cage did I even realize I’d closed the distance between us. The thought to touch him wasn’t a conscious one and I was helpless to resist. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. If he pushed me away, I’d go, but it would hurt like hell. And I knew he would pull away if I let him see what was going through my mind. One glimpse into my eyes would give away the pain I felt on his behalf. For what he must have suffered to earn scars like those.
He must have gradually inched backwards, subtle enough for me to not notice and just blindly follow, because the sound of his door clicking shut jerked my head up. I glanced around to find we were in his apartment. That he hadn’t slammed the door in my face, swatted my hand away or even asked me what I was doing was all it took to give me hope. Hope that if I let him see just how much this quiet moment was affecting me, that he wouldn’t shut down like I feared. That he’d let me in, just a little bit.
“What are you thinking?”
His voice was low and hoarse. Like it pained him to ask me. The intensity was too much.
“I think that’s something the girl is supposed to ask,” I teased, but it fell flat. I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat, but the raw vulnerability written all over CJ’s face was killing me.
“You’re the only person other than my doctors who has ever seen me without my prosthetic.”
My head jerked back slightly. His confession shocked me. No wonder he looked so vulnerable.
“What about the women you’ve slept with?” I wanted to smack myself in the face. Shut up, Blake! “Never mind. None of my business, and I really don’t want to hear about it anyway.”
I tried to look away, but his fingers gripped my chin and forced me to meet his eyes again. He didn’t have to say anything, I saw the answer I told him not to give me. I really was the first.
Pushing aside my pride and the fear choking the life out of my heart, I forced out my confession. “I was wondering what happened, even though I’ll never be able to fully understand what you must have had to endure to wind up with marks like these.” I watched my finger gently move down one scar to another. When I looked back at him, his eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw clenched. “I was thinking that scars like these don’t come without their demons, yet you don’t let them consume you.”
His eyes popped open, narrowing on mine. “What makes you think they don’t consume me?”
I smiled lightly. “You help people for a living, CJ. You employ wounded soldiers like yourself and give them purpose when the world around them can’t see past their handicap to the capable person inside.”
“I’m no hero, Blake.”
The finality in his voice had me blinking back tears. “That’s not up to you, CJ.” He started to argue, but I held up my hand. The one not still rubbing up and down his side gently. “I don’t know you, but I know you’re human. That means you’ve made mistakes and have regrets. You probably carry around a lot of guilt and most likely shoulder the blame for the pain of others, too. You want to make a difference, but the difference between you and the majority of people who want to do good is that you actually follow through. Just because you don’t want the credit or don’t want to acknowledge your accomplishments doesn’t mean you can keep others from noticing. Can’t control everything, Jade. Most especially the way other people think and feel.”
CJ’s hand covered mine, sliding it from the side of his torso over his chest and stopping just shy of his heart.
“And you, Blake? How do you feel?”
My nails curved under, pressing into his skin lightly. “I don’t know you, so I can’t presume to know who you are as a person. But I can tell you that these scars? They make an impossibly sexy man even more attractive. And what I feel?” I paused, relishing the fast beating of his heart beneath my palm. “What I feel doesn’t matter.”
I tried to pull back. Shook my head when he tried to force me to look at him again. He wasn’t having it though. One tug of my hand and I came barreling towards him. I had no choice but to throw my hands up and brace myself against him. The move had erased the small distance that remained between us, and now our bodies were flush, not one part of us not touching the other in some way.
“Tell me. It matters.”
His other hand lifted to cup my cheek. The move was tender and gentle, and the way his calloused fingers skimmed my skin until threading into my hair was my undoing. Not once did he break eye contact as I spoke to him. And not once did he give me any inclination as to what was going on inside his head.
“I think you’re the most complicated, stubborn, sexiest man I’ve ever seen. And I think when you finally let someone in, she’ll be one incredibly lucky woman.”
After a slow kiss to the corner of his mouth, I forced myself to move towards the door.
He said nothing as I walked out. And I didn’t look back.