Page 15 of Dating After the End of the World
I groaned, picked myself up, and continued walking, the sound of laughter taunting me until I was out of earshot.
The adult version of my childhood bully reappears before me, sitting smugly in my bedroom.
“Who are you?” Blake smirks.
“Don’t get cute with me. You know exactly who I am.”
He tilts his head. “Oh, you think I’m cute?”
I roll my eyes and look to my father—my father, who should have known better than to let the enemy in. “I’m not sharing a room with him. He should be dead.”
“Casey!” Dad warns. “Don’t say that.”
“What?” I shrug. “That was the plan, remember? In the event of an apocalypse, he”—I point to Blake—“was supposed to be on the other side of the gate, down by the road, begging me to let him in.”
“Jeez, Doomsday. I don’t remember you being so cruel.” He tosses me a teasing grin as he gets to his feet, stretching his arms over his head and letting out a heavy yawn. Every muscle in his chiseled body flexes, from his bulgy biceps to his washboard abs. He’s sure grown up into what I assume ... is an even bigger asshole. I’d love to throw a punch right at that square jaw of his.
I narrow my eyes at Blake and flick my gaze to my father. “Dad, I don’t want him here.”
“Sweetheart, there’s nowhere else for him to go right now, so you two just have to work it out among yourselves for the time being,” he says, backing out of the room.
Before I can protest further, the door is already closing, putting an end to the conversation. I groan and turn to face Blake.
“So, how have you been?” he asks, lifting his chin in a cocky manner.
“Don’t talk to me, Blake.”
“I’ll take that asnot so good.”
My gaze slips to his pecs, then his abs, and whoops, that’s quite the bulge.Damn it.Why is he here? And why does he have to be so muscly and good-looking? It makes me hate him even more. Shaking my head, I toss my backpack on my bed and peel off my jacket, before throwing it in the hamper.
“Well, I’m glad you made it home, Doomsday,” he says. “Your dad was really worried about you.”
I whip my head around, staring at him. “You don’t know anything about my dad.”
“I know a lot actually, since he and I are good friends and all.”
“You are not friends with my dad, Blake.”
“Maybe even best friends,” he adds with a smirk, clearly trying to get under my skin.
He takes a couple of slow steps toward me, his chin raised and his gaze locked on mine. I feel my heart start to race ... fight or flight, I assume.
“And maybe one day, you and I will be friends too.”
“That’ll never happen,” I scoff.
“Why?”
“I’m not friends with assholes.”
He lifts a brow. “Good, because I’m not an asshole, so it looks like you misdiagnosed me, Dr. Pearson.”
“You creep. How do you know I’m a doctor?”
“Your dad told me ... ya know, because we’re friends.” He cracks a grin.
“Whatever. Just stay on your side of the room, Blake.” I roll my eyes.
