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 . 1 1
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"What the hell, Blake?" Brooks' words were hasty, but Blake didn't seem to care much about the danger he'd put himself in. But the mere thought, for some reason, had Brooks' heart racing beyond recognition.
He shoved Blake's squeaky car door open, watching as Blake rolled his eyes, and slid out of the drivers seat. "I, as you can see—am in severe need of saving. So, Mr. Brooklyn Sutton, will you do the honors?"
Brooks ignored him, walking Blake over to the passenger seat, and bucking him in. Meanwhile, Blake wouldn't stop going on and on about how happy he felt at the moment. And how nothing, absolutely nothing would take that away from him.
Still ignoring Blake, Brooks slid into the drivers seat, his fingers hasty as he twists the keys into the ignition, and scurries the two of them out of the driveway to the Sutton Residence.
Blake sends Brooks a questioning look as he drives, in what seems like a hurry. Then, he reaches over, his index fingers curling around the ringlet of one of Brooks' many curls.
"Why did you come with me?" The question isn't as stumbled as his other words, but Brooks knew that those had sounded that way on purpose. Maybe, he wanted to lead Brooks down the stairs.
Maybe Blake was the one doing all the saving, that night.
Or, maybe Blake was always the one actually doing the saving, and Brooks was just along for the ride.
Then, it clicked. Blake chuckled quietly, his finger letting the ringlet fall onto Brooks' shoulder. "Okay, I see. Daddy's little boy wasn't really feeling up to being paraded tonight, was he? How fucking convenient for me."
"You know what," Brooks had bursted into practical flames, as it was him, this time that had been laughing sarcastically under his breath. "Yeah, it was fucking convenient for you. And if you didn't want me to come, and drive you home, you wouldn't have came to my place anyway."
Blake didn't respond, his jaw clenching, as he could practically feel the soberness seeping into his veins to the familiarity of how his mother would always scold him, whenever he did something wrong.
He turned his head toward the passenger side window, as the silence overtook the two with something so intense, that even Brooks couldn't talk himself through it.
The rest of the ride was quiet, until Brooks swore under his breath, while realizing that if he took Blake home in his car, he'd have no way to get back home. Or at least, his own side of the train tracks.
"I'll, uh—I'll call Jackson from your place, and ask if he can give me a ride home."
Blake rolled his eyes, a hand coming up and running it through his kinky bit of curls. "I fucking hate that guy."
Brooks scoffed, "you hate everyone."
Blake looked to his left, his lips curling at the sight of him being the only one seemingly able to rile up Brooks Sutton so fast. "I don't hate you."
They didn't speak any longer, not even when Brooks pulled into the short, and graffitied driveway to Blake's house. The light flickering from the porch was flicked on, and out came Gwendolyn, both hands dipped into the deep pockets of her robe.
She gasped at Blake's obviously drunken figure, her eyes showing nothing but disappointment.
"Blake, what the hell?"
Blake grimaced at the loudness of her voice, as he walked over to his mother with a dull expression.
Gwendolyn shook her head, nodding her thanks and appreciation over to Brooks, who smiled that same smile that had Blake's heart stuttering in his already overworked chest.
As Blake's mother escorted Blake into their home built for only the two of them, Brooks slipped out his cellphone, dialing the one number he'd known by heart since he was just a little boy.
A woman answered, who Brooks knew as Jackson's housekeeper, Katerina. "The Fuller residence."
Brooks help a hand to his forehead, cautious at all of the commotion coming from around Blake's noisy neighborhood. "Hello, Katerina, may I speak to Jackson? Unless, he's resting—"
"Oh, no, dear. You know how he is, always on the phone with that girlfriend of his. I'll put him on shortly." With that, Brooks was put on hold, and his eyes was in direct line of vision with Blake's quiet home.
A muffled voice came on a few seconds after. "Brooks? What's going on?"
"I, uh—need you to come get me. Please, I'm on Forbes St—"
"Oh, God. Forbes St.? Are you seriously with Blake again? What did I tell you about him, Brooks—"
