Expect The Unexpected

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| E X P E C T  T H E 
U N E X P E C T E D |
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As Blake's car pulled into the familiar driveway of his home, he watched for any sign of lights through the windows. While not seeing any, Brooks began to squirm beside him. It was all too, too quiet. Both too quiet, and too sketchy.

     Brooks didn't mean to question Blake's intentions, but he wanted Blake to understand that after what had happened at the lake, that he wasn't too trusting whenever it came to the two of them being alone together.

He had spent the last few days angry at himself for absolutely no reason, due to Blake making him think the entire ordeal was his doing. Even though Blake had been the one, who had initiated the kiss.

Brooks' fingertips curl around the handle on the passenger side door, being able to hear his own heartbeat, and wondering if Blake, too, could hear it.

As the engine shuts off, Blake turned over to an apparently nervous Brooks, whose arms had been crossed and clutching, as he waited for Blake to say something—anything.

     As Blake exits the drivers side, he rounds his way over to the passenger side. Rather than pulling the door open for Brooks, he kneels down onto one knee, him now being eye to eye with Brooks still sitting figure.

     Brooks watched in a quivering excitement of some sort, their actions from the lake flowing back into his head, as Blake's eyes bore into his. He's sure that if he were to begin speaking to Blake, and his intense gaze, he'd be stuttering beyond recognition.

     Blake's Adam's apple bobs slightly, as he swallows inaudibly, trying to keep his composure, as Brooks seems just as innocent and wide-eyed as he was, when they were just children.

     "Blake, I-I just want to make myself clear, o-okay? I didn't come here with you to kiss you, again, okay? And it was really unfair of you to make it seem like it was my fault, when you're the one who kissed me—"

     "Hey," Brooks pauses at Blake's interruption, "It wasn't your fault, I acted like an ass—alright? Let's go inside, and get talk about this over some food, yeah?"

     Brooks can't help but swoon over Blake's words, wanting nothing more than to make plain Jane conversation over dinner with the very boy he'd had his first kiss with. And maybe, just maybe, Blake felt the same way.

     Blake pulled the passenger side door open toward him, a hand lending forward, a silent gesture for Brooks' smaller hand in his.

     As Brooks took, butterflies fluttered all throughout his stomach, as his cheeks flushed red. "That sounds good."

     The two sat on the loveseat in the living room of Blake and Gwendolyn's home, as Brooks made joke after joke, feeling more than comfortable with the boy who'd served him the best dinner he'd eaten in ages.

     As a soft volumed movie played in the background of their light conversation, Brooks took another bite out of the broccoli on his plate, as Blake was silently thankful that Brooks had enjoyed the plate of dinner.

     "I'm so glad you aren't a horrible cook," Brooks chuckled at his own joke, "I was prepared to act like it was good, even if it wasn't."

Blake pushed at Brooks' forehead with his hand, laughing loudly as Brooks almost fell backwards, and down onto the carpeted flooring. "Ow, you jerk."

     Blake watched as Brooks readjusted himself beside him, as he took another bite out of his broccoli. The taller boy had had absolutely no idea that Brooks would be so keen on vegetables as part of his dinner. Whereas, others would be slightly confused by the unexpectedly healthy combo.

Blake wanted to speak up, he wanted to say that he couldn't forget about what happened at the lake. That he wanted nothing more, than for Brooks to spend the night in Blake's bed, in Blake's bulging arms.

Gwendolyn wasn't supposed to be home for another four hours or so. Which gave both Blake and Brooks plenty of time to get to know one another better. And to dismiss anything that had ever happened when Blake was young, and had no idea how magnificent Brooks Sutton actually was.

Silence overtook their evening, again, as Brooks focused less on the boy before him, and more on the movie that played in the suave background.

Brooks had never seen it before, but then again, while growing up a home such as the Sutton Residence, one wouldn't find much time to watch movies. Not with all of the screaming and crying that happened, even after dark.

But his home, and parents was something he had no intentions on dwelling over for the time being, though. Not with summer just beginning, and him wanting nothing more to stay positive, and get to California.

Blake watched as Brooks absentmindedly chewed, his eyes never swaying from the scene being portrayed in Blake's old, yet dusty television set.

And just as a gunshot rang out on the screen, Brooks jumped in enhancement, his lips being left ajar at the sudden turn of events. And Brooks was left wondering if things like the scene on the screen actually happened in real life.

"Blake," he whispered beneath the sound of the movie's intensity, and raw sort pain, that he'd once recognized in Blake's eyes. "Where's your father?"

Brooks heart began pounding at his own question, as he feared for Blake's inevitably reeling reaction. That was, until Blake sighed a heavy sigh, and smiled a reassuring smile—something Brooks had never seen on the darker boys perfect lips.

A dark chuckle proceeded. "I never met him. He and my mom met when they were in high school, my mom got pregnant, and my dad got into some school in North Carolina. Then, once I was born, he chose his career over me, never came back."

Brooks took a moment to process Blake's short summary of the father, who never became his dad. But Blake still seemed to be thankful for the fact that Gwendolyn had become both.

His mother, then mom, of course.

Blake scooted in closer toward Brooks, who cautiously swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "I-I'm so sorry, Blake. I-I just saw that he was never around, and—"

He was interrupted by Blake's lips silencing his ramble, as that familiar feelings of sweet, sweet nostalgia and bliss filled Brooks, once more. As he's left with nothing but a single ounce of Blake's furious tongue, and no sense of air.

For a second kiss, this one seemed to be much more fiery, and heated than the last. Although, Brooks was glad that it was once again, happening with the same boy. That was until, his mind began to wander off to Charles and Helena.

He worried about what they would think, or how they would react. But at this very moment, while being engulfed in Blake's scent, taste, and arms, he didn't care so much.

Blake began to feel Brooks' hesitancy, as he pulled back, and began planting soft, yet feverish kisses down his pulsing neck.

And just as Blake's hand began to wander, he pulled back, eyes wild, yet anxious. "Blake, n-no, remember the lake—"

     Blake shook her head, swollen lips leaning forward to place a safe, yet knowing kiss at Brooks' forehead, cradling both of Brooks' soft cheeks in his palms.

     "Just stay here for tonight, Brooks. We don't have to kiss, we don't even have to talk. I just," Blake's jaw clenched, as he watched Brooks' eyes cloud with wonder. "I just really hate the thought of you going back to that house. So—please, stay."

     Brooks nodded almost instantly, non-blinking, lips left ajar, as he could think of nothing else but Blake. "Yes."

     Sure, the answer didn't quite make sense, as Blake was moreover expecting, an okay, but with that breathless whisper, he understood that he had began making Brooks feel exactly the same way he did.