Page 177 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
Six
SUMMER SAT OUTSIDE Blake’s apartment, staring up at the light on from his second story window, and wondering if she was making a mistake. She remembered the hurt she felt when her mother left her at home and said she was going to get groceries and would be right back. She was just six years old and so scared, but she loved her mom, and so she stayed home, watching out the window as hour by hour passed and day turned into night. Finally, her dad came home to find Summer curled on the couch crying, petrified. He scooped her into his arms and asked where her mother was, but Summer was crying too hard to explain. He carried her with him through the house as he called for her mother, then sat Summer down and gently wiped her tears away. “Where is she, baby?” he had asked. And that was when Summer found strength for the first time in her life. She looked her father in the eyes and told him that she went to the store that morning . . . and never came back.
Summer’s father called the police at first, worried that something had happened, but then he spoke to Summer’s grandmother, her mother’s mother, and they knew she wasn’t missing, she had left. She never came back again.
The memory made Summer’s hands shake, and she rubbed them together to try to calm herself. This wasn’t her mother. This was Blake. He would never hurt her. He would never abandon her. Yet, in the back of her mind, she knew it was inevitable. Blake wasn’t just talented. He was superhuman on the field. Summer pretended to not care about football, so she could get away with missing his games, but the truth was, she enjoyed watching him play. He was smart on his feet, and he could pass a ball like no other quarterback in the country. They’d pegged him for the Heisman early on in the season, and each week he went higher in the polls. His numbers were unheard of, which all led to one hard fact—Blake Banks would go pro, and he would go pro with a team far away from Georgia.
Summer’s phone vibrated against the seat of her old Honda Accord, a graduation gift from her dad. She had no idea how many hours of overtime he had to work at the plant to buy it, but she’d never seen him happier than when he gave it to her. Summer picked up her phone and glanced first at the time—eight-o-five—and then at the text.
Blake: Are you standing me up? Then a smiley face.
She closed her eyes and breathed in and out. She wanted to do this. So why was she so afraid? Resigning herself that she wouldn’t be the scared little girl who had been curled up on her couch, she slipped out of her car and tucked her cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She reached his apartment faster than expected, considering how slowly she had walked, and dragged her palms over her jeans to wipe away the clamminess. She could do this. She would do this.
Summer raised her hand to knock on the door, just as Blake pulled it open, his face lighting up. Suddenly, all of her nerves from before melted away, and it was just he and she, simple as always.
Blake stepped back so she could come in. The smell of pizza caught her and the sound of Bob Marley. Other than her, the apartment was empty.
“Did you eat?” she asked.
Blake nodded toward the kitchen, his hands tucked into his low-hanging jeans. A fitted Georgia T-shirt stretched taut across his chest. God, he was sexy, Summer thought. She had always known he was hot, but knowing she was about to see him naked skyrocketed his attractiveness to another level. Hot no longer seemed sufficient. “No, I actually bought it for . . . after. You know, in case you were hungry.”
“Oh.” She stared into the kitchen, her mouth watering at the smell. She had been so wrapped up with what they were going to do, she had forgotten to each lunch. “What if we ate . . . before?” Summer eyed Blake, wondering if she was committing the equivalent of sexual suicide.
Blake nodded. “Um, sure. I’ll grab you a Coke.” He went to the fridge and bent over to grab the drink, and Summer couldn’t help taking in how great he looked from behind. She didn’t love the idea of watching him play, but she couldn’t argue with the results.
Blake turned around, his gaze on her, but she wasn’t seeing him. Not the way she normally saw him. Suddenly, she felt nervous around him, like she should have curled her hair or eyelashes or whatever it was that girls did when they wanted to impress a guy. This wasn’t part of the plan.
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sp; “Are you all right?” Blake asked, his arm outstretched to hand her the Coke.
Summer shook herself from her dreary thoughts and focused on the pizza. Maybe she was just hungry. She sat down on Blake’s table, like always, and reached for a slice. “I’m nervous,” she admitted, knowing if she didn’t say it out loud the feeling would consume her.
Blake slowly swallowed the bite he’d been chewing. “Me too.”
“So . . . what do we do?” Summer asked as she picked at her slice. She no longer felt hungry.
Blake set down his slice, which like Summer’s had barely been touched. “Maybe we should just do it. Just dive in.”
Summer nodded. “Right.” She reached down and pulled her shirt off, exposing the simple white bra she had chosen. It had a tiny pink flower in the center, which made it the sexiest thing she owned. She pushed off the table and reached for her jeans, when Blake tossed up a hand to stop her.
“Wait.” His gaze dropped from her face to her barely covered breasts. He swallowed hard. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
“Oh.” Summer placed her hands on her hips. She had no idea why she didn’t feel uncomfortable with just her bra on and jeans, but somehow that wasn’t what had her worried. Even being naked didn’t worry her. It was what came after the naked, and she was ready to get started so her freakout could commence.
“Then what did you mean?”
Blake ran a hand over his cropped hair, pulling at the ends. “I meant that, but not, you know, like that.” He motioned to her. “I . . .” He shook his head. “I bought stuff. You know, mood stuff.”
“Mood stuff?”
Blake closed his eyes and reopened them as though needing a second to breathe. “Just . . . come with me to my room, okay?” Blake asked.
Summer left her shirt on the floor and followed him into his room. He was right. He had bought stuff. She watched as he lit a candle on each of his nightstands. Then, he clicked his iPod so Imagine Dragons would come on, because he knew she thought the lead singer’s voice was sexy. She smiled a little at his effort. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”
His eyes leveled with hers. “I wanted to.” Blake eased toward her, all the fear he had shown before replaced with a focused intensity, like the look he had on the field. He stopped in front of her, his chest brushing against her breasts, causing her pulse to speed up. “I want this, but if you don’t, we can put in a movie and forget the whole thing. If during, you decide that you don’t, we can get dressed, put in a movie, and forget the whole thing. It’s in your hands. I’m in your hands.”
The utter honesty in his voice made Summer’s knees feel weak. She looked up at him, breathed in his clean, spicy, scent, and then rose onto her toes, and for the first time in the twelve years they had known one another, she kissed him.
