College is coming soon, and Blake Warner is sure that his life is embedded into the dead-end that is Merritt Hills, Georgia. His mother has assured him millions of times, that money has nothing to do with where his future leads.
But whenever he lie...
| E X P E C T T H E U N E X P E C T E D | • • • 0 . 8
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Blake drove in silence, as Brooks slept peacefully beside him. This left question wandering his mind, but he didn't ask, his heart only warming at the scenery of Brooks lying comfortably in his car.
"What a fucking view." He whispered to himself, just as he pulled up before the gated driveway, the gate labeled, Sutton Residence.
He'd always wondered why their family name was embedded into the gates. What if one day, another family were to buy the house? Would they too, continue on as the Sutton's?
That's ridiculous, he thought. Who else would be dumb enough to buy the same house Charles Sutton once owned? Surely, his ghost would get its hands on someone's throat, sooner or later.
Maybe it was the liquor, or the essence of how unbelievably perfect Brooks looked. But the logic made indefinite sense—at the time.
He turned to Brooks, hastily shaking him awake. "Brooks—Brooks, wake the fuck up."
Brooks rubbed at his eyes, him trying his best to adjust to the light surrounding Blake's muscular frame. But, when he sees the number code at the front gate, he knows Blake needs the code to get through the gates.
Blake waits patiently, watching as Brooks sits up fully, and racks his brain.
"It's, uh—it's my grandmother's birthday, 062243. Blake nods, turning, and typing in the code that has the two, giant black gates opening fully, allowing Blake's car to wedge its way through.
Blake drives smoothly, taking in the humongous home, that he had yet step foot in.
When Blake parks the car, he doesn't want to leave. All he wants to do is return back to Merritt's Mountain, where Brooks slept beside him, and the only worry was if sheriff Hughes would suddenly appear.
But now, as Brooks exits the car, reality sets in.
Brooks turns to Blake one last time, his eyes tired, and his t-shirt wrinkled. He bends down, coming face-to-face with the passenger sides window, that is a direct line of vision to Blake.
"Believe it or not, last night was actually cool. And Blake, at first I thought that you'd be staying here after graduation, but it's really nice to hear that you're getting out of here. Branching out, and discovering something new." It is only then, that Blake realizes it's entirely too early for that conversation.
So, he jerks the stick into drive, doing the Blake-ly thing to do. "Well, I hear there's a shitload of hot chicks in Atlanta. So, why the fuck not?"
With that, he's off, his arrogance still twinging in the air he's left smoke in.
Brooks nods dumbly, wondering why he had thought last night had made Blake different in any way. They had one conversation, and Brooks found himself already planning some sort of character development on Blake's part.
Don't be stupid, Jackson would say. He's a Warren, he'll never change. Have you seen his mother? His father?—oh right, no one has, he even probably hasn't.
Jackson had always called Blake an asshole, but now, as he thought about it, Brooks couldn't help but thinking that maybe it was the other way around.
