“What the hell are you doing here? Huh?” I snap at him, attempting my mommy death stare. Once again, I’m reminded it needs some serious upgrading, because he’s looking back at me with his own Blake Morgan death stare. I would like to go on record that mine is much more intimidating than his.
“ALEX!” Harlow yells. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I would just like to know what he’s doing here.” I keep my eyes fiercely glued to his while I continue speaking. “I mean, I’m sure that you already know what he’s doing here, right Harlow? I’m sure that this is another attempt to save Alex from her miserable existence.” I turn my glare to Harlow.
“Alex, I have no idea what you’re talking about. And I have no idea what he’s doing here. But, last time I checked, Waco was still part of the free country in which we live. I wasn’t aware that there was some sort of requirement for an ‘Alex Approved’ guest list for George’s Bar. If I had known, I would have sent out a mass email to all of Waco!” she shouts in my face.
Did she just “finger quote” me?
Turning back to Blake, I state matter-of-factly, “Newsflash…just as much for you as for everyone else I’ve been in contact with lately. I don’t need you here to rescue me! I don’t need you here to be my hero! What the hell are you even doing here? I don’t even want you here! Why can’t you just leave me alone!” I am literally yelling at the top of my lungs and breathing like I just ran a marathon. Tears are forming at the base of my lashes, but I refuse to cry.
Blake doesn’t say a word. He says absolutely nothing. He just looks at me, then Harlow, then says something that I can’t hear to Trace, turns his back to me, and walks out of the bar.
“Really, Alex, you can be such a bitch sometimes,” Harlow bites at me through her clenched teeth. She runs after Blake, leaving me on my own with Trace. What the hell is her problem? I roll my eyes in annoyance and turn my attention to the stunned man standing next to me.
“Sorry about that, Trace,” I say apologetically. “I’ve had enough of that man this week to last me a lifetime. I apologize for losing it like that, but I warned Harlow to not push me about him. It’s kind of a long story.”
We stare at each other for a minute. He seems hesitant to speak. I think I scare the poor guy.
“Well, Alex,” he says nervously clearing his throat. “Um, that’s actually my fault. I invited him.” Trace stops to let it sink in that I just ripped into my best friend for no reason…then continues.
“I knew Harlow was inviting you, and Blake and I have been friends forever, so I invited him. I had no idea you guys had any kind of history. He’s never mentioned you. I thought you guys would hit it off,” he says chuckling. “But obviously I was wrong. Honestly Alex, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
Trace and Blake were friends? Like long time friends? And he never mentioned me? At all? Like, ever?
Well, jeez…
Don’t I feel like a narcissistic asshole.
In an effort to not completely ruin the rest of the evening, I figure it best to stay and let Harlow and Trace have some time to catch up. Obviously, having already reached my drinking threshold, I drink only water for the rest of the night. While rehydrating, I do manage to get Trace to tell me Blake’s top secret location.
Although staying with his parents really isn’t groundbreaking news, Trace seems extremely hesitant to give up the information…most likely because of my unfortunate outburst earlier in the evening. However, approximately three shots later – shots that I bought by the way – I’m able to wrangle it out of him. I do this knowing I have some major damage control to take care of in the morning.
Harlow is refusing to really engage in any conversation with me, understandably so. After a while, I ask if it’s okay if I just take her car to my house. Since I haven’t had anything to drink since my run-in with Blake, which was two beers and three hours ago, it’s safe to say I have no more alcohol in my system. And I kinda don’t want to watch her flirt with Trace anymore. Some things are just better unseen.
She immediately responds with an enthusiastic “Yes!”, since that leaves her “needing a ride”. With the delighted look on her face, I’m pretty sure that all is forgiven between us.
Nancy calls to let me know that she’s already taken the girls to her house and encourages me to sleep in the next morning. Yeah, right. That would be wonderful, except I really don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight or tomorrow morning. I have plans to be up early.
Leaving the bar and finally making my way to the house, I find my thoughts wandering to my earlier outburst with Blake. The look on his face when he first saw me was one of complete shock, so I’m pretty sure he had no idea of Trace’s matchmaking scheme. But it was the look of outrage on his face right after I first approached the table that wouldn’t leave my mind. It actually sends a jolt of pain to my heart. Even in my slightly inebriated, obviously ill-tempered state, it hurt to see that he was that angry with me.
With the memories of the last day of summer that Blake and I shared still lingering in my mind, I start to really allow myself to think honestly about the past. I feel completely…well, I feel at a loss. Had I been so completely callused to not even acknowledge Blake’s gift to me? Did I even bother to discuss the charm with him? Ask him what it meant? What he was trying to say?
No, I didn’t.
My lip starts quivering as I begin to remember how much Blake was actually involved in my life. Time that I chose to dismiss. It’s weird, because now that I think about it, Blake was always there. Blake and I had been best friends. We grew up together. We did everything together. But after I met Derek in junior high, I just left him behind…without even a second thought. No more phone calls, no more fishing, no more movie nights. Nothing.
No wonder he wants nothing to do with me.
I start to feel anger rise in my bloodstream, but not at Blake this time. This anger is reserved for me. I had become so wrapped up in Derek and the infatuation that started the day I met him, I completely disregarded any prior history with Blake. Thirteen years worth of history. And I continued to do it through high school. I never attempted to make contact with him during college or even to call him when we moved back to Waco. What kind of person does that make me?
No wonder he never mentioned me to Trace. And here I was convinced that he came back to Waco to save me. To be my hero. To fix my life…
Utterly disgusted, I walk into my house knowing that the first thing I’m going to do tomorrow is go to Blake Morgan and apologize for the person I was. And the person I have evidently become.
The drive to Mr. and Mrs. Morgan’s house is a familiar one. And it’s a good thing it is, because I’m finding it extremely hard to concentrate on where I’m actually driving at the moment. I am, however, breaking down every possible scenario that could happen when I knock on that door. Good news is, as each and every scenario plays out in my head, they all end in one of two ways. He either speaks to me or he doesn’t.
That’s a 50% success rate. Not bad when considering my actions last evening…that and those many years I spent dismissing Blake entirely.
Memories begin to flood my mind as I drive up to the red brick two story house I spent so much time at while growing up.
…Blake and I climbing the huge oak tree in the front of his house to get to the tree fort we built together when we were seven years old.
…Both of us playing hide-and-seek in the garden by the side of his house with me yelling at him for cheating...there’s no way he could count to one hundred that fast.