Two Ways to Spell Blake

{Chapter 16}

"Blayke," Atlanta sings from downstairs.

I sit in my bed, staring at the TV. Ever since Blake left, all I could think about was the kiss. And what we are. Are we together? He didn't officially ask me out. Does he like me? I'm 99% sure he does, but who knows. Maybe he likes randomly kissing girls. He's done it to me a lot.

"She lives!" Atlanta yells running into my room.

"Hey," I say meekly.

No doubt she's going to want all the juicy details on what happened. That's if she finds out what happened. Which she will.

"What happened?" she raises an eyebrow.

See? What did I tell you?

"Nothing happened," I try to deny it.

"You and I both know that's a lie. So spill," she gives me flat look.

"My mom called," I start.

She raises an eyebrow knowing this isn't the whole story.

"And she wanted to talk to me about a bunch of different stuff. And then Blake came over," I shrug.

"Okay, Blake came over. And?" she prompts.

"He told me a bunch of stuff," I mutter.

"Ugh, this is like pulling teeth. Actually, no. This is worse," she groans.

"Really? Because I can pull your teeth for you," I tease.

"Don't change the subject. Give me details. What did he tell you?" she whines.

"I don't think I can tell you that," I shake my head.

It's his secret. I can't share someone else secret. That would betray his trust.

"Tell me," she pleads.

"You can ask him because it's not my place to tell," I snap.

"Ooh, so you got personal. Then what happened?" she smiles.

I take a deep breath. I have to admit to her I like him. She'll probably get a big head about it which isn't good for her health but oh well.

"I realized I like him. And we kissed," I smile shyly.

Atlanta squeals and does a happy dance.

"Okay, please stop with your happy dance," I laugh.

"Called it!" she sings.

"Whatever," I roll my eyes.

"Then?" she prompts.

"Then he left," I laugh.

"What? He can't just kiss you and leave! It's just rude," she rants.

"He's done it before," I point out.

"Yes but this kiss was real," she moans.

And the others were fake? Really, Atlanta?

"He did say he was going to call me later."

But that has yet to happen.

"So what did you talk about on the phone?" she wiggles her eyebrows.

"Nothing. Because he hasn't called," I snap.

"Oh," she looks down at the floor. Before she can say anything else, my door flies open.

"Have either of you seen my rubber ducky boxers?" Matt asks.

"Rubber ducky boxers?" Atlanta furrows her eyebrows.

"Are those the one's you got for your birthday in 11th grade?" I bite my lip to hold back a smile.