When Blake gets back from school on Friday evening, he’s kind of surprised to hear music from the tiny living room. But Luke is there when he opens the door to the apartment, guitar in his lap as he sings along. It’s nothing Blake recognizes, which means it’s probably something he wrote himself.
“Been writing again?”
Luke nods. “Never really stopped. I don’t think I ever told you, did I? That I had some interest from record execs before I moved out here.”
Blake dumps his bag, sits on the couch. “You kidding me? Why the fuck did you move then?”
He shrugs, looks Blake in the eye, because they both know exactly why. It was her; the girl that dumped Luke for some wannabe actor a month after the move. “You should go back,” Blake says. “Go to Nashville, send some demos out. If you had interest back then, you’ll sure as hell get some now.”
Luke looks up, shrugs. “You actually think so? Or are you just being nice?”
Blake grins. “You kidding me? Have I ever been one to lie to save your feelings?”
*
Blake’s at a loss for things to do that weekend; he actually resorts to doing extra credit work for school until Luke gets back. Then they mostly sit in the living room, and Blake starts helping Luke out with what he jokingly says will be the EP he uses to pitch himself to the record companies. Blake only hopes that it doesn’t turn out quite the joke that Luke thinks it is, because the guy truly deserves a shot.
When Blake gets to school on Monday morning, there’s a piece of paper taped to his locker. He glances around, wondering if it’s some kind of love note, or worse a practical joke. When he opens the thing, though, he sees the words Invite, along with a time, date, and an address.
He jumps when he feels a hand clap him on the shoulder. “Mornin’ Shelton.” Adam grins back at him. Blake wishes he wouldn’t call him that. And that he wouldn’t stand in such close proximity. “You get the note from Christina?”
“Yeah. Wasn’t much of an invite.”
Adam laughs. “What? You were expecting more? Calligraphy and all that shit? Sorry, Country, not how we roll. So you up for it? Her place on Friday night? House is huge, yard’s even bigger. Pretty sure half the school is coming.”
Blake nods. “I said I’d come, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. You did.” Adam leans close, too close; Blake shuts his eyes and exercises some restraint, Adam’s mouth inches from his ear as he talks. “Do me a favor and lose the farmer shirt though? Just for one night.” Blake gives himself a mental slap.
He probably will lose the ‘farmer shirt,’ if only because this idiot asked him to. His relationship with Adam is becoming a bit of a…problem. Blake kind of hates that.
While he hopes his future holds something in the country music industry, a notoriously hard industry to break into, where homosexuality is frowned upon more than in others, Blake hates that this bisexual-sticky-uppy-haired-kind-of-rockstar that probably has absolutely no interest in Blake anyway, is making him seriously consider what it is he really wants.
And what he absolutely hates, is that said bisexual, rockstar idiot, looks so fucking ecstatic to hear that he’ll be at the party. Sonofabitch. Blake is so gone with this guy.
It’s annoying, too, because Blake’s subconscious wants to kind of sink into his arms, maybe turn around, maybe even-. He wriggles out of the grasp as best he can, relieved (read: disappointed) when Christina walks up, all bouncing blond hair and cute little grin.
