Blame The Player

C H A P T E R | 10

I pause at his doorstep and take in everything before me. Shoot me for imagining a big house with a family of seven. Instead, it's a small apartment with minimum furniture and no family. I smile when I spot shirts tossed around.

" Wanna take a shower? "

My eyes dart to him and I nod.

" I don't have clothes. "

He bites his lip as he smiles, eyes roaming my body. Heat travels up my neck as I hug myself, frowning in flusteredness. He laughs and gestures with his head toward a direction.

" You can wear my shirt and boxers. "

My insides die as I feel my heart's pulse.

" Clean? " I blurt out shyly.

He chuckles and plops the keys in a bowl, shaking off his leather jacket. I watch his muscles twitch through the tight, white shirt. Aroused, I clench my thighs shut and look away.

" What do you wanna eat? I can order some pizza. "

I nod.

" Pizza sounds nice. "

He walks away and I'm left torn between following or staying behind.

" Come, Catalina. "

I hurry behind him. He showed me around his place. It didn't take long, of course, as it is a small space, but even so, it feels comfy. My smile is tight and awkward when I stand in the bathroom, and he is in the hall, handing me his clothes.

" You don't mind wearing any underwear? "

I melt in embarrassment.

" No, " I mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

" Then, I'll leave you to it. The shit you need is everywhere so it won't be hard to find. Extra toothbrush in the cupboard. "

" Thanks. "

I awkwardly close the door behind him. Breathing out the tension ever since I arrived, I palm my chest to settle my pounding heart. How can I be this nervous? I shake off the nerves, place the clothes on the lid of the toilet, and strip. Once inside the shower, I feel my body be soothed by the heat, relieving my muscles from any stiffness.

Now that I can think and be at peace by myself, my head is bugged about what happened, fueling my body with a sense of disgust and shame. Tears sting my tired eyes, so I close them and lean my head beneath the sprouting water.

I take the sponge and soap, squeezing the liquid onto it. Wiggling and rubbing to create foam, I start to wash myself, dreading to feel clean. Dreading to rid any trace of him. Shutting my eyes, I try to replace him with something.

The scent is woody and spicy. I inhale the scent of the soap, remembering Blake. And then how his arms felt around me: like he could protect me from the world. I let out a breath, disbelief of myself.

All of those warnings trying to put my feelings out and here I am, thinking of him to replace a bad memory. My lips frown and my chest aches. I'm getting caught up in my feelings. I can't allow it. I've been warned by many about Blake's ways. I will get hurt if I allow these attachments to grow their roots deeper into my heart. I need to dig it up before it thickens. But how? How do you kill feelings?

I step into the living room and spot Blake on his sofa, watching TV. Only, this would have been an unresponsive scene if he wore a shirt.

" The bathroom is available. "

He hums.

" Is the pizza here yet? "

" Yeah--fuck. "

My gaze snaps to him, brows raised. His eyes are fascinated, gulping down my image as he prowls his way over to me. I tense, toes curling, heartbeat thrashing, and body heating up. My breath shudders when he runs his hand down my bicep, his hands flashing back in memory. I shake him off and step away, cringed out.

" Baby? "

" I'm sorry, " I whisper, eyes hooked on the floor. My eyes widen when he tilts my head by my chin with his forefinger, eyes searching mine for answers. Tears brim my eyes and his soften, his body embracing mine in warmth.

" Let me replace the bad memory, " he whispers in my ear, bolting a hot electric nerve across my body. My eyes fall shut when his hot breath fans my ear, and I tilt my head to bask in it. With his bare skin so close to mine, I can feel my arousal.

" Replace the memory? " I ask and open my eyes to stare into his intense ones.

" Let me make you feel good. "

Blake wants me to feel good? I know what he means and it nearly made my heart burst, but I'm unsure. Allowing him to do what he has in mind would cross a line that keeps my heart and his knife separated. How can I be sure he won't cause me any pain? I swallow nervously and look away. Again, he tilts my head so that we can talk without uttering a single sentence.

" I'm not a toy, Blake. "

He frowns and leans back, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear before gliding his finger across my cheek to my lips. My lips part and he stares intensely.

" You barely talk to me. Not to mention look at me. "

He scoffs, smirking.

" Oh no, I stare quite a lot. You just never catch me. "

I frown, happy yet confused.

" You were rude to me. Why? "

He frowns and moves away, plopping back down on the couch. I'm left confused, used, and insecure. Did I speak over the term?

Pursing my lips, I try to get rid of the insecurity and head to the kitchen. I fetch myself two slices of pizza and head back to the living room, unsure of what to do. There is only one couch.

" Stop staring and sit. "

I do and ensure as much space between us as possible.

Maybe I shouldn't ask too many questions. It obviously upset him. I take a bite of the pizza and munch.

" Aren't you gonna talk? " he snaps.

My feelings take it personally.

" What? "

He rolls his eyes and stands up, leaving me alone.

" I'm tired. "

And that's the last thing I heard before a loud bang. What just happened? What did I do?

Well, Blake is a mood (¬_¬ )

Comment people! You're so quieeett (┬┬﹏┬┬)