Page 175 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
He drew a slow breath. “I want you at the games.”
Summer sighed. They’d had this conversation a thousand times. How could he not understand that watching him get beaten to death wasn’t her idea of fun? She felt as though her entire world were lying on that field during the first game, each second he lay still crushed into her heart unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. If she didn’t see him getting hurt, then she could pretend it didn’t happen. “There are thousands of girls on this campus who would love to watch you play. Seek out one of them.”
Blake placed his hands over hers, stopping her fingers mid-motion. “I don’t want them there. I want you. I need you. It relaxes me.”
“Yeah, well, it terrifies me,” Summer admitted.
“Ah, come on, Summer Rain, you know it’s all perception. It just looks bad,” Blake said, tossing out the nickname he’d coined for her when they were little. They’d been in her bedroom, playing her used PlayStation, and suddenly a massive thunderstorm rolled in. She felt sure the wind would rip away the rusted walls of her home and suck her and Blake both into a twister that would make Dorothy’s seem like nothing more than a breeze. Blake had wrapped his arm around her shaking shoulders and pulled her close. “Nothing but a little summer rain,” he had said, and somehow the name stuck.
“Tell that to your headache.”
It was Blake’s turn to sigh. “Just do this for me. Please.”
Summer focused back on the massage, pushing his hands back down. “Ask one of the girls I’ve seen you with around campus. Surely if they’re good enough for your bed, they’re good enough to be your good luck charms at the games.” Summer immediately felt her face burn. Why had she said that? She and Blake rarely ever talked about their relationships. It was one of those awkward subjects they tried to avoid. Like his dad shooting himself or her mom leaving.
Blake’s gaze fixed back on her. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He sat up and faced her. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m just some dickhead fucking half the campus? Using my name to get girls to drop their pants?”
Summer shook her head. “No. I just . . . no.”
Blake’s face grew tense, and then he blurted out, “I’m a virgin, Summer. A virgin.”
Summer’s eyes widened as she searched his face for some hint that he was joking, but found nothing. “Are you serious?” she asked, though she already knew by his face that he was.
Blake, her best friend, the one she trusted most in the world, was a virgin. Suddenly, a world of possibilities raced through her mind. If he had saved himself for her, as she had for him, then maybe—
She shook her head, ending the thought before it fully materialized. He hadn’t saved himself for her. So if not her, then . . . “Why?”
He stood up, pulled off his Georgia T-shirt, and reached into his dresser drawer for another one. They had changed in front of each other a thousand times, but suddenly this new piece of information changed all of that. She took in his body in a different way. His cut chest and stomach. His arms, which had turned into cannons overnight.
“That one smelled like smoke from riding with Jamison,” Blake said to Summer’s obvious stare. “It was driving me crazy.” He stopped in front of her. “So you want to know why? I guess before I answer this, I should know whether or not you’re one. I suppose by your reaction you’re not.”
Summer contemplated. Admitting she, too, was a virgin would undoubtedly further this tension between them, and she wasn’t sure she could handle where it might lead. But it was Blake, and she had never lied to him before. “I’m one, too. You know, a virgin.” She pulled her knees to her chest and stared over them, wishing they’d had this conversation back at Carl’s Mobile Park, where they’d grown up, instead of here, where everything was so different.
Blake opened his mouth to respond, when a slow knock came from his door, and then a sexy voice said, “Delivery for the quarterback.”
Blake rolled his eyes and went for the door. “Look I’m a little busy,” he said, opening the door, but then two girls were rushing in, giggling, half dressed and clearly ready to make The Great BB’s dreams come true.
Blake held the door open. “Out,” he said to them, but they were either too drunk or didn’t care. He reached for one and she pulled him toward her on the bed, Blake fighting to get free without hurting her.
Summer sighed as she edged off Blake’s bed, which the girls had clearly decided to invade. “Look, you’re busy. I’ll see ya later,” she said, slipping out the door before Blake could argue. She rushed through the crowded apartment and out into the night air, feeling like she could finally breathe again.
She started her walk to her dorm, glad the night was warm for early fall, her mind on what Blake had told her. He couldn’t be a virgin, she thought, not with a constant offering of free sex thrown at him everywhere he went. He was a guy, after all. She had just convinced herself that he’d been exaggerating, when she heard her name called from behind. She whipped around to see Blake running toward her.
“Jesus Christ, Summer, you can’t walk home at night. How many times have I told you that? Those bastards in my apartment are tame compared to some of the guys I know.”
Summer crossed her arms. “And as I’ve told you, I’m fine. I carry Mace.”
“Mace?” Blake repeated with sarcasm. “You’re a hundred-pound body. They’d get you down before you could reach for that shit.”
Summer knew there was no point arguing, so she started back toward her dorm, Blake falling in step beside her. They walked in silence for a long time, before she was unable to hold back her questions any longer. “Were you serious back there?”
“Completely,” Blake said, without hesitation.
She waited, then said the most honest thing she could. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”
