Inspiration

16) Her

Forget the Past!

Can I? Can I trust and continue? I look at Blake; he is deep in thought too. I bite my lower lip; I want to trust him. The last few weeks were amazing. I laughed harder than I have in a long time. I always felt that he cared about me; he never pushed me, never asked me to do something that I wasn't ready for. And after that one time, he never asked about my past.

For the first time, I want to tell someone my past; I want him to know everything, to accept me with everything. I want to tell him the thing that even my parents don't know.

I take a deep breath and text my parents that I will be late tonight, then turn my phone off. After George's advice, everyone went silent until we just started idle conversations, but we all know that the moment is ruined. We paid the bill then everyone went their own way, promising that we will do this again.

Blake is more silent than usual and not the comfortable silence that we shared before. He is going in the direction of my house, but I squeeze his hand and stop moving.

He stares at me, "What's wrong?"

I smile, "I want to go to your house."

His eyes grow wide for a moment, and as if my words were a switch, he returned to his teasing self, "well, shouldn't you ask me to be your boyfriend before that?"

I roll my eyes and slap his arm, "not like that!"

He raises an eyebrow and waits for me to continue, "I want to spend more time with you, and I don't wanna go home."

He cups my face and comes closer, "God, you are so cute when you are shy but speaking your own mind."

I kiss his cheek then grab his hand to the way of his house, "c'mon, let's go!"

He chuckles and puts an arm around my waist, "you are really eager, ha?"

We continue walking to his house in silence most of the time. We reach his apartment in ten minutes, or so he opens the door and signals for me to enter first; it is the same as last time. His house gives me a sense of comfort, maybe, because it is small.

I go to the kitchen and sit on the small counter, "how about I prepare dinner for us?"

He chuckles and walks towards me, "well, good luck with that."

I gasp, "don't you believe in my culinary skills?"

He stands in front of me and puts his arms around my waist. His face is very close to mine, "actually, I don't trust my fridge."

I raise my eyebrow and move him away. I go to his fridge and open it; there are only juice, coke and water bottles.

I look at him to find his cheeks going red. I giggle, "I can't believe that you finished all the ingredients."

He clears his throat, "yeah... Right... I finished them."

I cross my arms over my chest and raise an eyebrow, "Blake, when was the last time you had a home-cooked meal?"

"The last time I ate breakfast in your house," he mumbles, looking away.

I gape at him, "Blake, that was weeks ago."

He shrugs, "So?"

I roll my eyes, "What are you? A teenager?"

He smiles, "Ah, the sweet teen years."

I chuckle, "how old are you, anyway? 40?"

He frowns, "do I look that old?"

I tilt my head, "Yeah, kind of."

He starts taking dangerous steps to me, "oh, really."

I take steps backwards, "Hey, Blake. Don't do anything that you would regret."

He smirks, "oh, love. I can never regret anything with you."

I start jogging away, and he starts jogging after me. Of course, the height difference is a problem, and he catches me soon. For some reason, we end up on his bed with him on top of me.

We were laughing like crazy till our eyes met. We close the distance, and our lips meet again and again and again.

------------------------------------

I open my eyes slowly. It takes me a while to adjust to the dark. Blake's body was lying beside me with his back to me. I smile at the memory of us kissing; my clothes are dishevelled. I look from his shoulder, and he is writing in his notebook.

I put my arm around his waist, and he relaxes to my touch, "Whatcha writing?"

He closes the notebook and adjusts so that he is facing me. His hair is a mess, and he smirks at me, "nothing important."

I raise an eyebrow, "are you hiding your writings from me, Mr Author?"

He puts a hand on my cheek, "I am a shy person."

I snort, "Yeah, right."

I adjust myself so that I am sitting on the bed, "there is something that is bothering me."

He moves so that he is resting on the headboard, "what's wrong?"

"George's words," I say and sneak a look at him. He freezes, and his teeth clench, "what do you think about them?"

"Nonsense," He barks.

I frown, "n... Nonsense!"

"Don't tell me that you believe him?" He says in a harsh tone.

My heart aches, and I whisper, "I don't know."

"Our past is a part of us. We have to live with it. We have to always remember it."

"But how will we live then?" I snap, "if we live tormented by the past, how will we continue our lives?"

"I didn't say that you should be tormented by the past, just that you can NEVER forget it."

I glare at him; how can he think like that?

He sighs, "look, why are we fighting over this? I will go prepare something to drink."

He gets out of bed, and I watch his figure. I sigh in disappointment. I wanted to trust him, but after this, I don't know what I should do, or how I should feel.

He comes to me with two cups. I adjust myself so, I can take the cup from him when I find a picture, face-down, on the floor.

"What's that?" I ask, going down to take the picture, but he snatches it away quickly.

He looks away and shoves it in his pocket, "it's an old picture."

I frown, "then, why don't you show it to me?"

"I look stupid in it," he says and sits on the couch.

I don't like his reaction one bit, but I let it slip away. I put the cup on the nightstand and stand up.

I adjust my clothes and take my bag, "I should probably go home."

He stands up in front of me and pouts, "so soon?"

I smile, "yeah, my father is probably already wreaking havoc at home."

He smiles, "yeah, you are right. Let's go."

I shake my head, "you don't have to come along."

He takes my hand in his, "but I already promised that I will walk you home from work."

All the way to my house, I sneak glances at him. I will be an idiot if I continue to deny my feelings. I like him, I really, really do. However, I don't know if I can trust him. There is no way we can build a relationship with no trust.

Blake is sus, don't you think? 

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