“I’m a bit well now, Blake—don’t fuss about me! Sure, it was awful—you know—but the whole ordeal made me look at the bigger picture and realized that—I can’t hold on to the past…even if it was something I held dear to my heart—I have to let it go and move on,” whispering to him as my head nestled on his broad shoulder. I moved a little closer to his neck, wanting to rest my head and fall back asleep again. He smelled delicious with a hint of lemon aftershave and something masculine.
He smelled divine, sighing loudly. How ironic is this? He came here to console me and here I was thinking naughty thoughts about him?
I hate it when I get this weird feeling with Blake, it happens once in awhile to be honest. It makes me act awkward afterwards. I’m a woman, even if he’s my friend, it doesn’t make me immune to his charms or his striking looks. Or his mouth-watering smell. GAH!
I released him from my hug and sat back to enjoy my coffee.
Clearly my reaction to his smell bothered me. “Let’s get you out. Let’s do something fun, after we have breakfast at The Wolseley?” he looked like he was trying to conjure a plan. “Like, what?” thoughtfully asking him knowing well enough that he didn’t quite know what the heck it was. He loves throwing ideas and act on it, spontaneous man that he is.
“Whatever you fancy,” saying it with purpose as he sat back and splaying both arms on the back of the couch, legs both on the table. Looking like a Greek god, lazing about with sheer contentment.
His strong, thick powerful legs showcased before my lustful eyes.
Is there anything that this man was made of without being so sinful? Everything about him screamed of sin and sex. And I’m hot and bothered. Was I always this hyper-aware of Blake? Was it always like this? Quite possibly, it was too much—my sleepy state can’t process this heavy confusion and the coffee seemed to be working weakly.
Hell.
“Knightly, it was your idea. I’d rather sit at home and just sleep some more if you ask me. Oh! How about we just watch movies here all day on the couch?” smiling sweetly at him. Give in, please? I don’t want to shower and get dressed, I thought lazily.
“That would not be a good idea, poppet. Get up! you little skive and get dressed! I’ll have it figured out before we leave, alright?” giving me his signature killer smile, sexy dimples showing.
I love it when he calls me poppet with his cute British accent. Truth be told, I have a hard time saying no to him when he dishes out this type of smile and he well bloody knows it.
I groaned.
I got up and threw him a hap-sack pillow on the head. “This better be worth my time, Knightly,” giving him a ‘I’m-not-so-amused’ face and started to leave when he surprisingly pulled me down next to him on the couch.
“Trust me?”
I nodded and went to my room to get changed. Why was he being so intense about the whole Kyle thing? It’s so uncanny. I’m not sure if I like him being this way towards me.
Two
Showered and ready to go, I gave myself a once over on the full-length mirror that hung on my bathroom door. I wore a powder blue cotton dress that fitted tightly around the torso and flares nicely in the bottom, sitting two inches above my knees.
I matched the dress with mustard-colored wedge espadrilles. I hastily placed my naturally wavy dark hair on a loose wavy bun, evoking simplicity and still achieve to look sexy.
I applied tinted moisturizer, pink gloss and just enough mascara to bring out my bright green eyes with a burst of gold to pop-out. It was one of my best features, so even if I feel like death inside, I needed to look at least presentable. It’s part of my coping mechanism I learned when I was ten years old. Always look put together.
My golden-brown skin can be credited to my Brazilian/Caucasian mixed heritage. Spritzing my signature Coco Mademoiselle, grabbed my tan Botkier tote and headed to the where Blake was patiently waiting.
I found him in the kitchen on the phone. He turned around, gave me a swift examination before ending the call. “Ready?” politely asking me, still rooted to his spot.
“Yep”
“To breakfast, milady,” holding out his arm to link with mine.
I smiled stupidly at him as we walked out the door and straight to the elevator.
“Figured anything out, yet?” referring to ‘his plan of action’.
“Sorted as promised—but it’s a surprise…” looking impish and smug, I nudged him.
Ding.
Getting out the elevator and headed towards the main entrance, “You have got to be joking! Why does it have to be a surprise? I hate surprises!” I exclaimed. I do hate surprises. Because the surprises are horrible, every single time. So, I’m a tad skeptical about this one.
“You did agree to trust me… remember, poppet?” gazing at me with a playful smile as the sunshine accentuated his beautifully sculpted features making him look annoyingly sexy as we hit the side-walk.
A few women that passed by stared openly at him. A harried woman stopped, awed, halted in her tracks and just ogled—previous destination long forgotten—as she was rooted on the cemented side-walk.
Yeah, yeah he’s hot. So, What? I wanted to snap that woman out of her trance.
Don’t get me wrong, I adore Blake. I think he’s smart, articulate, funny, crazy talented and has a heart of gold (reserved to those he trusts). But it can be exhausting to be his friend. Lucy goes through the same problem. We were the only women that Blake is friends with. So, we get hounded for trivial information. Anything, to help them out they say. Right, if Blake really wanted a woman, he’ll pursue her relentlessly, not the other way around, spoken out of Lucy’s very lips.
I go to a Fashion School (majoring in Fashion Marketing), and of course, the women asked about him after he once picked me up from school—parked on the curb and was leaning deliciously on his sexy car—that alone drove questions from six—Six!—adult, grown women who had their panties twisted. The girlfriends I brought from school to party with us, a few times, brought hysterics. Like “OMG, have you SEEN that ASS?” or “HOLY FUCK! He’s GORGEOUS!” or “Shit, Sienna, can you hook me up?” There’s more, but I don’t want to elaborate any longer, it’s taxing to my precious sanity. Blake of course, never hooks-up with any of them because they aren’t lingerie model material.
Glancing at him, I shrugged.
“Yeah, right,” thinking that this surprise better not suck or I’m going back to my bed to wallow, sleep and wallow some more. Jet-lag, thoughts of Kyle… what else?