EIGHT: Counterfeit Love

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"Explain."

My tone was harsh and filled with spite. He was a bad boy after all.

Blake sat on my bed. His posture was tense and even I could feel his nervous tension bouncing off me.

"Look, it's not what you think."

I scoffed. As if he could read my mind.

"Tell me then. What am I thinking? You seem to know so well."

I leaned against the door, hands folded against my chest.

"Rachel, I just...I liked you even before you knew I existed."

So he did like me.

"And... I wanted to get closer to you but you always seem to be caught up in other stuff." He looked at me rather sheepishly. The look didn't suit his title of bad boy.

"You might know."

I nodded. Now that I think about it, Blake did try to get close to me about a few months ago but I didn't really notice.

I had my first self-written and directed play going on.

Blake had tried to enrol. I rejected him. He had tried to get work behind the scenes on props. I deemed him too irresponsible. In the end, he even came to me directly and asked if he could arrange for the after-party. I already had someone in mind so he was out.

He could have threatened me, but he didn't.

A smart sense of reality hit me and I realised that he is a human being too. His admiration must be genuine. I felt something inflate in me again. The feeling of being loved—this is it. But how can I accept it when he was trying to earn it by hurting people I love?

"And then, there came a time when I lost all hope. I needed an anchor. I couldn't go on my own. I needed somebody. I decided I needed to get to you."

I listened to him as quiet as a mouse.

"Desperate, I figured I would go to any extent to attract you. So I called in Ryan to stage out a fight so that you would finally be standing in front of me. Surprisingly, he agreed." He looked at me. His green eyes were still oddly bright. "I am sorry."

I didn't know what to think. What must have been troubling so hard that he needed someone stranger to help him survive? I walked to the bed and sat beside him. Looking at him intently, and choosing my words carefully, I asked, "Blake? What's troubling you?"

He bent down and ducked his face between his knees and shook his head rapidly. Shaking, he let out hard cold cries.

I rubbed his back, not sure what to do. I was awful at situations like this. But I couldn't sympathise with him, I was too angry with him to give in. He had used Ryan. I couldn't get past that. And...whatever trouble he must be facing must be to his own credit. I couldn't let my guard down.

Blake is dangerous.

"Get up, Blake. Get out of my house." I didn't care if I was too harsh. I needed some space.

Blake lifted his head, his teary eyes stunning me. He had his right fist balled up, but what caught my attention was his eyes. They were...not green anymore. Instead, it was a very bland blue. What the...?

I gasped and reached out to see if I was not imagining him. "Your eyes..."

Blake let out a low laugh. And opened up his balled fist to reveal a pair of contact lenses. "You can't cry with these on, you know."

As badly as I wanted to ask him why he would wear green contact lenses,I realised his time here was terminated. "Blake, please. I don't want you here right now."

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