Page 127 of Smut

Blake

The cab to the vineyard seems to take forever, traffic clogging up the highway, and once I get to the winery it’s busy with people.

It’s a gorgeous day though and I’ve got a gorgeous girl waiting back at my apartment.

My girl.

I start humming that tune as I stroll through the tasting room and end up buying a bottle of pinot gris and a bouquet of yellow flowers. She probably won’t want to drink the wine for a few days, but the flowers should at least cheer her up.

As I head back to the car I look around, remembering how completely weird last night got. Amanda was absolutely bombed, and while I was drunk too, I had to keep it together for her sake. She was open and vulnerable, surrounded by all the sharks of her past, and I wasn’t about to let anyone take advantage of her. She may act like she’s got a coating of armor around her, but I know how deeply she feels things sometimes.

That’s why when I ran into her prat of an ex and his legs-for-days girlfriend, I couldn’t help but defend her. She may have not needed me to be her knight in shining armor and I hope to god it never gets back to her because I’m pretty sure that would be the end of us, but I couldn’t let them make fun of her and her ambitions. I had to let them know just how successful and talented and smart Amanda truly is.

So I fought her battle for her because I know she would do the exact same thing for me. I have her back. She has mine.

Another reason why I love her.

Bloody hell. My own thoughts make me pause, a kick in the chest.

Love.

I didn’t even think it was fucking possible after Rachel. I swore I would never give myself to another girl, that I would keep everything in my heart cold and wrapped up, with not a thread loose.

It had worked so well.

Until she walked into my life and pulled on a string I had never noticed.

And I unraveled.

Slowly.

But surely.

Fucking pansy, I tell myself, starting the car.

But even if I am, it’s all still true.

I am a pansy.

And I’m madly in love with her.

I sigh heavily and drive off down the highway. Because the world works in strange ways, “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” comes on the radio. I turn it up, roll down the windows, and start belting it out with a huge shit-eating grin on my face. It’s just like that scene in Jerry Maguire where Tom Cruise is singing “Free Falling,” except much, much lamer.

When I get to the apartment, the bottle of wine in one hand, the bouquet of flowers in the other, I still have that Tom Cruise grin on my face. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stop smiling.

Until I open the door.

And see Amanda standing in the middle of the living room, her hands curled into fists, her eyes blazing into me with fire and brimstone.

“What’s wrong?” I ask her. She looks like she’s near tears, but the fury in her expression has me staying back and close to the door in case I need to run for my life.

“You told,” she seethes.

Bollocks.

“Told what?” I ask cautiously, stepping over to the kitchen to put the wine and flowers on the counter. I feel like I’m a bomb diffuser and it’s about to go off at any second.

She shakes her head slowly, her fists opening and closing. “You told everyone at the party that we write erotica together. You told them our pen name. You told them about everything.”

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