Page 174 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
Every time she saw him on TV, she thought about how close he was to his dreams of playing in the NFL, and how when that happened, he would leave her . . . just like her mother.
That fear was the singular thing that kept her mouth glued shut every time she lay in Blake’s bed and listened to him talk about his hopes for his life. Or when her fingertips ran over his scalp and temples and face during a massage. She knew there was next to no chance that he felt the same way, and even if he did, one day he would leave.
People, they always left.
Three
BLAKE OPENED AN eye to look over at Summer, her expression confusing him, like always. There were moments, brief flickers, where she looked at him like other girls looked at him. And then it would be gone, replaced by sarcasm.
“I’m not sitting on that tainted sheet,” she said, nodding toward his bed. “That couple could have any one of a thousand sexually transmitted diseases, and they’re often transferred by liquid, which means if one of them, you know, spilled, you could be looking at a problem on your hands.”
Blake laughed, wishing a third of the girls he met had half the guile of Summer. If they did, perhaps he could tolerate them for more than a night of making out. Instead, he ended up fantasizing about Summer, and then when he opened his eyes, he felt a surge of guilt and ended it before reaching anything deeper. Clearly, something was wrong with him.
“I’ll change the damn sheets, Doctor. Anything else?”
Summer ignored the jibe. “You’ll thank me when your balls stay intact.”
At the mention of his balls from Summer’s mouth, he felt his pants grow suddenly tighter, pressing against the zipper of his jeans. He thanked God he’d thrown on a long T-shirt and went over to his closet to grab fresh sheets.
Summer nodded for him to sit and took over the work. Normally, he’d brush her away or at least help out, but the pain cutting through his skull had him on the verge of puking or passing out.
“So . . . how bad was the hit?” she asked, her eyes focused as she fanned out the top sheet and it flowed slowly toward the mattress.
Blake glanced over at her. “You didn’t watch?”
“Professor Carmichael needed me in chem lab. I’m assisting in his research, remember?”
“I remember¸” Blake said, but he knew she was lying. She refused to come to his games, had since the first one, where he was sacked so hard all the breath whooshed out of his lungs, and for a moment, he just lay on the field, wondering if that was what drowning felt like. The complete inability to breathe. Summer tried to get to him, but of course, they refused to let her through security. She hadn’t attended or watched a game since.
“Okay, this is all set,” she said, patting the bed. “Come lie down and let me perform my magic.” She grinned wickedly.
Blake nodded. Typically he would respond with something sarcastic, but the pain was too real, the moment too raw. Like something had changed in the air without either of them realizing it.
Someone pounded on the door and Blake groaned. “What?”
“Women are stripping out here, man,” Jamison called. “Get your white ass out here and see these bare Dawgs!”
Blake closed his eyes and lay back on the bed, his head in Summer’s lap. “Nah, man, I’m good. Have at it.” He waited to see if Jamison would bust in, but he heard his voice drift away and looked up at Summer, her face impossibly close to his. “I think we’re good.”
She drew a breath as her eyes met his. “Yeah, we’re good,” she said, her voice suddenly small.
Four
SUMMER BRUSHED HER fingertips over Blake’s eyes, shutting his lids. “Relax.” He nodded once, and she let her hands move over his face, through his dark, cropped hair, over the defined lines of his cheekbones and jaw, then she pressed into his temples and ran circles with her fingers, breathing out slowly, her own eyes closing.
They didn’t speak again for several minutes, soaking in the moment. Static clung to the air, an electrical charge, the warmth she normally felt around Blake replaced by something more unsettling. Her heartbeat began to change rhythm as her fingertips continued to work, and she worried that he could hear it, pounding so close to him. Would he know what it meant? Would he know that every nerve ending in her body had come alive as soon as she touched him?
Embarrassed, she cleared her throat and opened her eyes, only to find Blake watching her, his expression seeming to mirror her confusion. Instantly, she looked away. “Did you know that breathing can help calm you in almost any situation? It has to do with the flow of oxygen back into your body. It helps settle—”
“Summer.”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t want to talk about breathing right now.”
“Okay.”
