Excuses Excuses

"I have Jake," I say, but my voice is too meek to hold any weight.

"And you don't want him," he says dismissively, "Don't get me wrong, you want him. But don't think I didn't notice what happened between the two of you last night. Don't think I didn't notice what you didn't do, and who you went home with.

"I mean I may have fucked up with Rachel, but at least I fucked. You barely did anything more with Jakey boy than you did with me."

Leaning over when we reach a stop, Blake whispers in my ear.

"And don't think I didn't notice that when my hands were on you earlier in the night, you could barely help yourself from enjoying it."

His words curl around me, a warming tendril that makes me close my eyes and shudder as I bite my bottom lip. An involuntary whimper escapes me and my heart starts to pound so hard in my chest that I find that I'm having trouble even breathing.

It's as though my heart has grown, pushing everything else in my chest out of the way. As if it's so large right now that it's leaving no room for my lungs, so I'm having trouble getting enough air to survive.

This is wrong. This is so fucking wrong in so many ways but perhaps the best way that it's wrong is that it's deliciously so.

Blake is bad for me. I know it. But I can't bring myself to fully want it to stop.

"Just because I don't fuck on the first date, doesn't mean I missed out."

"I'll play," he says, resigned as we watch boy-Kim lecture, "What does it mean?"

"It means that I'm a good girl," I insist, but Blake just laughs so loud that heads turn and catch us oh so close together.

Stepping forward and away from him, I put some distance between our bodies. Gradually people start to look away, most of them at least. The ones that still watch catch Blake casually close the distance between us once more which I fucking hate. But at least this time he keeps his hands to himself.

"Don't lie," Blake goes on, "And don't make me laugh."

"You don't know me," I say back, "Fuck you. You don't know anything about me."

"Sure I do," he drawls out, "Sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself. I know that you're all shiny and new. I know that you come from some kind of buttoned up small town where you were never the girl guys had eyes for, probably because they were fucking blind. I know that you're easily intimidated. I know that you've got spirit, spirit that I just can't wait to break. I know that you're eager but scared and I know that I can help you open up."

"You don't even know my last fucking name, Blake," I sneer.

He shrugs, "True, but I don't need to know your last name to know you, Em. I know your heart."

Join my Patreon for only $3 a month and get early access to new chapters and over a years worth of exclusive content. https://www.patreon.com/SophiePert