Page 24 of No More Bad Boys
And… apparently we’re done with that topic, too.
A few awkward moments pass as I wonder how to get the conversation back on the rails and figure out where things went wrong. Blake seems to be doing the same thing.
We start speaking at the same time, “You know…” he says, then stops. “Sorry. Go ahead.”
“No, that’s alright. You go.”
“I was about to say… it wasn’t all bad, you know, losing my scholarship. It made me get more serious about school. I started treating it like a job and just focused on getting out of there and getting my career started.”
Wow. He’s just expressed my precise attitude toward collegiate life. I haven’t met too many people who don’t think of it like a four-year party.
I nod in excitement and understanding. “I know exactly what you mean. My sister just today warned me about never having any fun in college. But I don’t really have time for fun, you know? I have a brutal course load, and I work…”
Blake studies my face a moment, his eyes glinting with devilry.
“So then… you really havenotime for anything fun… at all? Cause I was kinda hoping you’d go out with me sometime.”
He holds up his hand in a placating gesture. “If you like, I can guarantee there’s no actual fun involved.”
In spite of the sharp reverberation through my nerves, or maybe because of it, I laugh out loud.
“Oh really? How can you make sure I won’t have fun? What would we do on this no-fun date?”
Blake leans back on his hands and squints up at the night sky, contemplating. “Hmmm. I could take you to the dump—no that’s actually kind of interesting, seeing all the things people throw out. Let’s see… oh I know. We could get out on 285 in the middle of rush hour—no that might be fun with you as well—although the air conditioner in my truck needs freon, so maybe that’s back on the table.”
“Sounds promising,” I agree, then offer my own idea of a bad time. “You could force me to sing karaoke.”
“You don’t like karaoke?”
“Hateit. I can’t sing at all. My mom used to put me in these little-kid beauty pageants, and I swear it was all the judges could do not to plug their ears during my ‘talent’ segment.”
He laughs and makes two check marks on an invisible list in the air. “Karaoke, beauty pageants. How else may I torture you and keep my promise of no fun?”
“Umm… we could go to a tattoo parlor,” I suggest. “I’m a total wimp when it comes to needles. I don’t know how you survived getting that big one on your chest. I’d probably pass out just getting a teensy little clover.”
It seems like the perfect opportunity to ask the question that’s been bouncing around in my brain since I saw the design inked on his muscular pec, so I do.
“So… what does yours mean? Is it a shield?”
Blake’s expression flattens out. His eyes go to the city skyline beyond the roof deck. “Nothing. Just some stupid thing I did in college.”
Bringing his gaze back to meet mine, he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Okay, needles are a definite option, then. What else?”
“We could go visit my mother,” I joke, literally shuddering at the thought of bringing a guy home to her and the way she’d undoubtedly rip Blake for his lack of personal wealth.
“Or mine,” he mumbles. Then he flushes deeply, looking away again as if wishing he hadn’t said it.
I lean toward him, nudging his shoulder playfully with mine to lighten the mood again.
“I wouldn’t mind meeting your mom, seeing all your little carrot-top baby pictures.”
“Yeah, um,that’snever gonna happen.”
Blake stands, pulling a set of car keys from his pocket while looking out over the skyline. “It’s getting late.”
Okay, well I guess the party’s over.
“I should head out, too, I think. I have class in the morning.” As I rise to join him, I sway backward a bit from standing too quickly.
