Reading Online Novel

Rock Candy Kisses(28)



"I'd expect nothing less." Blake is quick with his reply.

Holt strums his fingers along the table as if he were anxious to tighten  the noose around Blake's neck. "Tell us about your past. Any skeletons  in the closet? What was the longest relationship you've had?"

"Holt." My mother playfully scolds, but it sounds like something she herself would like to know.

"No, that's fine. I have nothing to hide. No skeletons. I'm still  working through some tough stuff, but Annie has been a godsend. If it  weren't for her-these past few months would have been sheer hell. Excuse  my language."

I reach over and take up his hand at the table.

Eventually small talk ensues between my brothers. Mom casually mentions  that she's set up an appointment for me at a clinic in Jepson. But I  sort of let the conversation die out. I don't want the implant to become  the crux of our visit. And knowing that Blake wants me to have it as  much as my mother means they'd most likely double-team me. Once we  finish our meals Mom and Baya start to clear the dishes. Izzy and Marley  start a conversation about Marley's sister, Jemma, who happens to be  Izzy's best friend. The rest of the visit flies by as we finish up  dessert in the family room while my brothers root for their favorite  football team, even though they lose in a record upset. I'm sure there's  some dizzying metaphor in there regarding the stunning loss and my  brothers' views on my relationship with Blake, but my head isn't up for  deciphering it.

We exchange pleasant goodbyes with Mom and make our way to the front. A  flood of relief fills me. I thought for sure this afternoon would end up  in a pile of broken dishes, and perhaps broken ribs and legs, but not a  bone was shattered, china or not.

"Hey"-Holt nods both Blake and me over-"it was real nice getting to  spend some time with you away from the Black Bear." He drills his gaze  into Blake, but it's cold and unfeeling. The words felt more like a  threat than they did a kind sentiment. I know my brother too well. This  is just a put on. "Oh!" He fakes an epiphany. "You never did answer the  question. What was your longest relationship? It's just one of those  stupid things that either says everything or nothing about a person. I  sort of blew in and out of relationships myself until I met Izzy." He  pumps a dry smile my way.

I'd be extremely pissed at Holt if he didn't just offer Blake an out.  That little bit of self-effacing just may have saved our relationship.  I'm not up for taking any more crap from my brothers.

Blake furrows his brows as he shakes his head. "I don't really know-a  few months to a year? I guess there was a long one in there somewhere.  They never meant much until now, so I guess we have that in common."

Holt manufactures a grin. "I guess we do. Say-what was the name of your last girlfriend?"

Blake's Adam's apple rises and falls. "I'm embarrassed to say this, but  it was probably a one-night stand. I used to have a bit of a rock candy  addiction." He looks to me with regret in his eyes. "Sorry."                       
       
           



       

"The long one"'-Holt isn't letting this go-"you know, the last one you do remember."

Blake and Holt enter into a silent standoff, just staring one another down as if they're about to go for the jugular.

This is ridiculous, I sign to my brother. I don't appreciate the way  you're treating him one bit. Knock it off. Say something nice, or just  go away.

Blake warms my back with his hand. "No, it's okay. Her name was Olivia."

Olivia. My heart thuds a few times abnormally. I think I like her  referenced better as the long one. Giving her a name, that name, makes  it sound serious. Olivia sounds sophisticated. A laceration of pain  whips through me at who this Olivia girl might be. I scowl at my  brother. I know his game. Get in my head with this girl's name, and I  won't let their ghost of a relationship rest until I've extinguished  mine. Well, it's not going to work.

"Olivia Noster?" Holt's brows rise, and he looks pleasantly surprised as  if he knows her. But it's all an act, both Blake and I know it. Holt  wants her real last name so he can probe into Blake's past looking for  some rope to hang him with. I hate to break it to Holt, but he's the one  who's going to find his neck cinched, his feet dangling off the ground.

Blake huffs a dry laugh. His eyes close a moment. "No, not that one." He clasps his arm over my shoulder.

"Did you love her?" Holt spears him with his gaze.

Blake stills. His chest rises and falls with his next breath, but he doesn't answer his question.

"You did." Holt shrugs. "That's what I wanted to hear. It's good. Now  with Annie you have something to gauge your feelings with. First love  can be tricky to navigate because you can't see the bigger picture." His  jaw pops as if he's getting angry. "But, then again, you never forget  your first love. It's just one of those things."

"We'll see you around." Blake pulls me in tighter.

"Later." Holt doesn't break eye contact with Blake.

Bryson tries to lure us into a conversation, but I hold up a hand as we make our way to the truck.

I'm done with my brothers.

We say goodbye to everyone and take off with Marley in the back seat.

It's a long drive back to campus. This time nature's sharp beauty isn't enough to distract me from my brothers' distrust.

Who am I kidding? I'm not thinking about my brothers.

All I can think about is this girl who Blake once loved.

Olivia.



* * *



Prescott Hall is taking part in a volunteer effort on behalf of Whitney  Briggs University where students take turns serving at a homeless  shelter for the entire month. It's a part of the Give Thanks-Give Back  campaign running through November.

Blake and I have been hit or miss this week. We were together two more  times, once on Sunday and again on Tuesday night when we ditched the  movie we were going to see and hit the carriage house instead. I love  being with Blake-physically being with Blake-our bodies merging as one,  his laughter, his moans melting straight into my mouth with their  vibratory approval. Blake and I are all smiles when we're together. He  makes me insanely happy. Why can't that be enough for my brothers?

I catch a ride to the homeless shelter with Marley, and we discuss my  evolving sex life all the way down-mostly at red lights when she can  read my texts.

I hand her my phone as we park nearby the facility.

I'll admit, Holt shook me off my foundation a bit with all that talk of  ex-girlfriends. It didn't help when Blake mentioned that he'd had his  fair share of rock candy. I get it. He's hot. He sings. Girls want him  in their beds. He's BEEN in their beds. Heck, I want him in mine. So the  fact that he has a track record shouldn't throw me for a loop. It's  just that I want to know that I'm doing okay in that department. I want  to know that I don't suck and that he's not disappointed in my moves  because, really, I don't have any.

Marley openly laughs at the idea. "Are you kidding? That boy is in love  with you." She snatches the phone. Your moves are enough for him. More  than enough. That boy is whipped.

My phone buzzes, and I take it back. It's a text from Blake. "It's him," I whisper.

I'm off a little early. Want to get together? I can pick you up.

A dizzying grin takes over. I can't believe I can get so giddy over a  simple text. I love having a boyfriend far more than I ever thought I  would. I love that my boyfriend just so happens to be the only one on  the planet who has made my stomach squeeze tight. It's hard to wrap my  head around the fact that he only wants me.                       
       
           



       

I'm doing volunteer work at the homeless shelter in Jepson. I should be  done in a couple of hours, or, if you like, you can join me. I'm sure  another pair of hands couldn't hurt.

Blake texts right back. Consider me there. Love you.

My heart melts when I see those last two words.

I love you, too.

The Jepson House, as it's called, is a large, boxy building with wide  electronic doors that whoosh open onto a stamped concrete floor. It  looks polished and modern with its light blue trim. There are even  fashionably dressed mannequins in the display window that advertise the  thrift shop in the back. If you didn't read the sign, you might mistake  it for a department store. Inside the strong smell of stewed meat and  potatoes take over my senses. I'm not a fan of stewed anything, so, at  this point, I have two choices, decide it smells halfway decent or run  all the way home, dry heaving.

Marley points to the back where there's an assembly line of food set up. We spot a bunch of girls from our dorm and head over.

Marley speaks to the woman in charge, and before we know it, we're  slinging sweet potatoes and green beans respectively to the passerbys.  It's mostly single men bundled for the frosty night ahead. I can't help  but see the distance in their eyes. They all wear that same tired look,  with those same vacant eyes. A few women come by with small children,  and a young boy of about six signs to his mother that he doesn't like  orange potatoes. I can't help but light up on the inside. As much as I  hate to admit it, life after Quincy has been a bigger adjustment than I  thought. Just seeing them speaking together in ASL makes my heart sing.  Is it wrong that I secretly wish the whole world knew how to sign? After  all we know their language.