The Lies He Spoke

THIRTY THREE

BLAKE 

After Blake took Andy's car to drop Olivia back off at school, he drove back home and sat in the parking lot outside his apartment, trying to figure out what to do.

His chest felt like it was full of hot coals. It ached like it hadn't since Elijah was taken away. He found a random napkin Andy had shoved into the car door, put it against the wheel, and pulled out his pen.

He tried to draw Olivia first, but even though he'd managed to magic away the upset look on her face, her tears from that morning kept finding their way into his drawing. So he tried Elijah, but Elijah's expression was cornered like a caged animal. Blake didn't even want to try to draw Logan.

And so that was how, one napkin and one receipt later, he ended up with a drawing of a boy with good dark looks, smiling eyes, and a lip ring decorating his full lower lip. Despite everything, Blake smiled at his drawing. The drawing was pretty handsome, if he did say so himself.

A knocking on the car window jerked him so hard from his stupor that his hands twitched and sent the pen under his legs and the receipt into his lap. He quickly shoved the receipt in the center console, away from prying eyes.

His heart hammering, he shakily turned his face to see his portrait in the flesh just outside the window. "Jesus Christ," he murmured, opening the car door. "You scared the shit out of me, Andy."

Andy crossed his arms over his chest. "I scared the shit out of you? What about you? You've been gone so long I thought my car was stranded in some ditch somewhere with all its insides gutted and sold for parts."

Blake put a hand on his chest and leaned back in the seat, trying to calm his heart. "Good to know where your priorities lie," he said. "How did you know I was out here anyways-oh."

Andy was holding up his phone, the GPS tracker app that let him track Blake's phone's location open on the screen. Blake's profile picture (a horrible one of him sleeping with his mouth open, by the way) hovered right above the parking lot where they were.

"This is an abuse of technology," Blake whined.

"You agreed to this."

"I did not!" Blake protested, even though he had. Andy had gotten tired of Blake not answering his texts on weekend nights and Blake had suggested it himself.

"Oh yeah? Who's going to drive your drunk ass home if I don't know where you are?"

"I'll stop drinking."

Andy snorted. "Keep dreaming."

Andy leaned against the doorframe, his hip just touching Blake's arm. Blake was glad he had come down to the parking lot. The solitude had been getting to him, and the drawings alone weren't going to keep the horrible thoughts at bay.

Whenever he started thinking too much about what used to be, he would start thinking about his dad, and he hated thinking about his dad.

"You want me to get in the car?" Andy asked quietly.

It was a silent question about whether he was okay that Blake understood, but he shook his head. "I'm coming in a bit."

Andy pursed his lips. He tapped a little beat on the car hood, then put a hand under his chin. "Um, no, I don't think so. You are not about to get mugged in this parking lot on my watch. Come on." He reached over Blake and grabbed the keys from the center console. "Sorry it has to be this way, but I'm commandeering my car back."

"This is not what friends do," Blake complained.

The neighborhood they lived in was middle class. Besides middle class families, there were plenty of college kids in these apartments. There had never been a mugging as far as Blake knew, and there probably never would be. Andy was just making up excuses to let Blake save face about coming back inside at Andy's insistence.