mr. badboy

Part 24

"Actually, I do have the occasional glass of wine but it's not exactly appropriate for what we're about to do."

And by occasional glass, I mean occasional bottle.

He bites his lip through a grin as he smacks the beer cap off the bottle, using the edge of the counter as leverage. "I haven't heard that one before."

I sigh, exasperated, and ignore him. "Where should we work?"

He motions to the leather couch with a nod. From the strange way he's eying me, to the vibe in the room, I'm getting the feeling that this is part of his whole seduction routine. I wonder if that's all that it takes. Bring the girls here, give them a drink, sit on the couch and pretend to watch Netflix. Next thing they know, they're getting screwed on the rug.

And probably liking it, I think to myself. I'm pretty sure that any girl that steps into this place knows exactly what she's getting into, even if she'll probably never see him again.

I take a seat on the armchair across from him, to make a point that I'm not like the rest of them and I'm here only because I have to be.

If he's insulted, he doesn't show it. He brings out his laptop while taking a lengthy swig of his beer. "It's my stepmother's," he says.

I glance at him, confused. "What?"

"The apartment. When I decided to move here and finish my degree at U-Vic, my stepmother was able to rent the apartment for me. I basically pay for it by working at the bookstore."

"Ah." I look around. It all makes sense. "So you have a stepmother. When did your parents split up?"

"Oh ages ago," he says, leaning back on the couch and pulling one foot up across his leg. "I was born here but they split up when I was six or so. My mum and I moved back to England and she remarried. So did my dad."

"Only child?"

He nods. "I have a stepbrother though, here, Kevin. He's nine. My mother and Jenson, that's her husband now, they don't have any. What about you?"

Even though my curiosity is eager to learn more about him, I'm not about to share an ounce of myself. "I have a sister, my parents are still together."

Even though they should have divorced ages ago.

Even though they both take out their unhappiness and failed expectations on me.

But Blake doesn't prod or question me about them any further. He probably just doesn't care.

With both our laptops out, I decide to take control of the evening. It's the only way we'll be able to get through this and stay on task. There's something very distracting about sitting across from Blake in his living room and it has little to do with the way his eyes occasionally catch mine, the look of his broad shoulders beneath his thin olive-green shirt, the veins that rope around his forearms as he opens his computer.

"How about we read each other what we wrote?" I tell him, even though the idea of reading my work out loud to him makes me cringe. "That way we have a chance to really hear it and fix any errors."

He tilts his brow, looking at me uncertainly. "Are you sure? I mean, mine is total rubbish." He pauses. "But you'd know that, of course."

I raise my palm as a peace offering. "Going forward, this is a no judgement zone."

I can tell he doesn't believe that. Hell, I wouldn't believe it. It's hard as hell to turn off that side of me. Before he can protest, I tell him I'm going first and then plunge into it.