Unexpectedly

Chapter Eleven- This Is Not Your Usual Cliche Story

                “Whatever.”

                “Sher, listen.” I sat right in front of her and refused to break eye contact. I wanted her to listen to every word I say. “I am not the heroine of your usual cliché story. I'm your best friend. I will never like Camden Sun.”

                She pressed her lips together, and I knew I was winning. She always did that when I was right.

                I was about to move on to another topic when she said, “Then why the kiss?”

                I blinked. “What?”

                “Why, even though you’re drunk, did you kiss him?” he asked me. “And he kissed you too.”

                “W-we were both drunk.”

                She looked at me and very, very seriously said, “Are you sure?”

                “Completely,” I replied, but somehow, I knew I might just need to reconsider.

                She sighed. “Okay. Fine.”

                “Good. Let’s grab something to eat,” I suggested.

                There was a sudden sound from the window. Sherri and I both stared at it like it might explode any second, or that it might break and Saw will just come in and chop us both to pieces. Really, I was about to scream like how the stupid girl in the horror movies do when they’re about to be chopped.

                And then the tap came again, and this time, I saw what made the sound.

                Somebody was throwing rocks at my window.

                “Oh, my gosh,” Sher said. “Check! I’ll hide.”

                “No, no—no!” I whispered harshly as she kept pushing me to the window. Whatever happened to my best friend?

                I ended up in front of the window anyway. Knowing Sherri, I had no other choice but to check. I pulled the window up and—

                “Ow!” I exclaimed.

                “Oh shoot! I’m sorry!” somebody called from below.

                I was rubbing my cheek, where the stone had hit me.

                “I didn’t mean to hit you—I—I didn’t know that you would open the window—and—and—I—” He paused and then looked at me. He let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

                I was speechless.

                “Ummm.” He placed both hands in his jean pockets. “Say something?”

                I was breathless.

                “Please, Shea.”

                I was just so dumbstruck.

                “Please say something.”

                So many words swam in my head at the time. So many things I could have verbalized at that moment. But I could only say one word.

                “Blake.”

---

                “You’re here,” I said once I got down.

                I was wearing my PJs, but so what? I had a jacket on either way. I just sort of grabbed that jacket when I came down to talk to Blake.

                “I guess,” Blake said.

                All of a sudden, I wanted to disappear. I remembered what I said at that party, with those people to hear me, with Blake watching me, never expecting that I was about to shout his name and call him things.

                “Uhh, why are you here?” I asked. Hugging myself, I tried not to look behind me, knowing that at the window, someone was peering at us.

                He ran his fingers through his hair. “I—I don’t know.”

                Awkward.

                “Look,” we both said together. “You go first.” We did it again.

                I groaned. “You go first,” I repeated.

                “Okay.” He looked at me and I looked anywhere but him. He didn’t really mind. “I’m really sorry about what happened at the party.”

                Oh gee. Here it was. “Which part?” I asked, still not daring to look at him.

                “All of it,” he replied.

                I gave in. “I'm sorry too. I don’t know why I even—gosh, I’m sorry.”

                “I should be sorry,” he said. “I mean… I like you.”

                And here was the eye-pooping, mouth-dropping WTF expression on my face. “What?”

                “I really, really like you,” Blake told me. “I was just—just—at that party, I had a few shots of beer. I never really drink. And… well, the guys talked me into kissing Amber.”

                My mind was still trying hard to process that. WTF, WTF, WTF. I was experiencing life at a million WTFs a second.

                “I know that you might not believe me. I’d be the luckiest guy in the world if you ever do. But I want to at least say that”—he looked right at me—“I really like you.”

                Did I just hear what I think I just heard?

                He sighed and started to walk backwards. “That’s all. I'm really sorry.”

                And he turned to leave.

                It took me about twenty seconds to finally say, “Wait! Blake!”

                He stopped on his tracks and tentatively turned back to me.

                “I—I do, too, okay?” I rushed out before going back to the house, never bothering to look back at him to see his reaction. Not even when he said “wait.”

                For now, it was enough.