Blake Day
The hardest choice that you have to make is always the right choice, right?
My father and I never had the relationship that I had wished to have with him. They say to never mix business with pleasure, but my dad must've thought family was included within that.
My mom would always be the team mom, she would always throw the parties after games. She would always pack me, extra sweets, that way she made sure I had a good day.
However, I think it's to make up for the fact that I had only my mother's love, never my father's.
Dad and I did have some good moments, some really good moments. He was the reason why I picked up the football, he was the reason why I wanted in politics, I had just always wanted him to be proud of me.
Whatever I wanted, I had been given.
My first car? A black Range Rover that I drove off the lot. He didn't want me throwing parties at the house? Bought me a lake house to have parties in. He sponsored all of my sports teams so I had the best playing time and the best equipment.
So, I guess this means that I would do anything for him as long as it benefitted me.
"Damage control? Dad, I have a game—I need some rest and you do too." My eyes winced at the brightness of the phone screen. He shook his head. "Blake, you're missing a huge opportunity for yourself right now. This is a business move." He reasoned with me.
"Dad, I wasn't really dating her. It was just to keep your mouth shut that way I could have parties and live life like a normal college kid." I was going to press the end call button.
"Great, so you don't have feelings for her? That's perfect." He clapped his hands together as I heard his three minions typing. "Dad, please. I got to get some rest. Very busy day tomorrow." I pleaded with him.
"Blake Daniel Day, you aren't a quitter and you never were. Listen to what I'm saying before you decide to hang up. Okay?" I huffed out a groan. I clicked on my bedside table lamp. I should've won the best son award by now.
"I can't take all of the credit for this because the three stooges, or my campaign men, came up with this brilliant idea." I nodded for him to continue. A whiteboard rolled into the camera shot. There were angry bullet points and large black ink from markers left all over the board.
1.) Liberal
2.) LGBTQIA+ Fathers
3.) Adopted
4.) Russian American
5.) Female
6.) NYT
I raised my eyebrows at the messiness. "Did you go through her entire file?" I was on the defense of Sloane. We hated our privacy being invaded so why would we go after her?
"Yeah, after she left we all did. We had to make sure that you made her sign the NDA form." I rolled my eyes. "Alright, let's get this show on the road, I have a big day ahead of me tomorrow." I ushered for him to continue as he beamed me a smile.
"Blake, you said you weren't in an actual relationship with the girl?" Carl asked as I nodded. "Good, so then you don't care for her." I went to object.
Not caring for Sloane was an exaggeration. If she was tied to train tracks, I would untie her.
"She is the damage control that we need." One of them pointed to the word on the board before circling it. I raised an eyebrow. "Everyone hates us. Right? The media—everyone. There is no convincing of the fact that everyone hates your father and everything he stands for." I had to agree with that.
"She is the key to fixing this entire mess." I laughed. Playing with Barbies was never the right answer unless you were six. "Don't laugh Blake, they have a point." My dad interrupted them.
"First of all, she's a liberal. This is the modern-day, Romeo and Juliet. She is supposed to hate you and you're supposed to hate her, right?" I nod.
"So, if our people see you with a liberal it's unifying. There is nothing America loves more than a romance, a happy ending. This could also win your dad and his partner more votes, maybe she could change people's minds about this. If a liberal could stand a Republican, maybe they could stand a Republican as a President and Vice President."
I'm not dumb, I was supposed to go to an ivy league. There was no way in hell, not even with the nicest pair of shoes or best designer handbag, nothing could ever convince Sloane Beck to side with us.
"Following? Okay, number two. Her dads are gay. This is fucking genius—we could win more LGBTQIA+ votes because of her. We love the community already, but the community doesn't love us. This will make them love us. " I nodded for Carl to continue. My dad's smile was beaming as I continued to listen.
It wasn't sounding bad.
"Number three, she was adopted. This is a great idea. She wasn't aborted, she found a happy family through adoption-" I cut him off.
Now was my time to speak. "But, it was an LGBTQIA+ family that fostered and adopted her. Dad, you are against this. I think you should rethink your stance on this, dad." I warned.
Sloane was right.
I would admit it.
"Okay, but going back to what I was saying. She could be a great role model for where the taxpayer money goes with Foster homes. Also, those loads of kids in foster care that are turning eighteen could trust her. They could give us votes." I was intrigued.
"Fourth, she is a legal immigrant to America. Not to mention, she came from Russia. Rob has a really good relationship with Russia right now, I think this would make Russia happier, and it would be a great look for legal migrations." Ah, Russia.
My dad loved Russia.
"President Ivanov would love this, Rob. I think this would be a great business move." Carl spoke to my dad as my dad agreed. They were so sneaky about things.
"Number five, she's a female and she's not afraid to speak her mind." My dad chuckled. "She impressed me, Blake." My dad surprised me with his voice. I raised an eyebrow at him as he continued. "She wasn't intimidated by me, Blake. I think with a strong woman on our team, she could increase our ratings with female voters." I could see his side.
But again, Sloane hated him.
"And finally, Sloane's dad—one of them, is an editor and writer for New York Times. They fucking hate your dad." Carl paused, nodding towards my father. "Sorry for my language Sir, but she could make the liberal media change their minds about us. The New York Times could stop writing made-up bullshit about us."
It was silent beside one of the guys circling the number six. I was taking in all of the information that had just been presented in front of me. I didn't know how to feel.
The ideas of this plan were plausible, they were entertainable—but were they able to pull off? I didn't know. But Sloane would never take me back after tonight.
"Do you know anything else about her that we don't know?" My dad's voice broke me out of my thoughts. Did I?
I didn't think so?
She was a stage five clinger with serious relationship issues. We could hire just about any other bitch on the street and make this shit up, our supporters would believe us. Was I considering this?
Yeah.
Because it was pretty smart, and she was a political goldmine. We just had to coach her a bit, and then she'd be good to go. The hardest part of this all would be convincing her of this, to come back to me.
"Wait," I spoke.
The four of them froze. "She won't do this willingly. I know her too well, she won't. She hates our guts." I informed them. My dad paused and then laughed.
"She's damage control, she doesn't have to know. She could just flash that pretty little smile of hers and she would win a few hearts." I shook my head at his words. "You want to exploit her?" Was he that crazy?
"It's not foul play if she doesn't know it's meant to be foul, Blake." I hovered over those words.
"Butter her up, any price—anything, she can have it. We'll slowly feed the information about her to the media, our news stations. This will be good for both of us, Blake. Be selfish for once, son." I was tired, I had a game later—I needed rest.
My head was in a fog.
A major one.
This was a major proposition, one that was too good to not take. I just needed time to think about it. "Dad, I'll get back to you on it. I need some rest." He nodded.
"Okay, goodnight." He hung up the FaceTime call as I chucked my phone to the side, before shutting off the light.
I had to weigh out my options here.
She couldn't know I was going to exploit her. How could I gain her back? It wouldn't be easy. I would have to offer her another deal? A deal that is somewhere in between the lines of truth and false—right and wrong.
Sloane Beck
The bandaids were slipping off of my heels.
Note to self: never walk a mile or more in stilettos again, even if you're mad at the guy.
The alcohol was hitting me hard, like way too hard. I hadn't eaten anything but a rice cake and a saltine today. The girls and I decided for every single touchdown or offsides called, we were throwing back a shot.
That was not a good idea.
Finn was doing fine, she had half of the pepperoni pizza. However, Ellie and I were all over each other. Annoyingly enough, the boys won their game. There wasn't a party at the football house tonight, it was at Sigma Kappa.
It was Ellie's first frat house party, and I wasn't letting her out of my drunk sight.
"Let's go dance!" I shook my head at her. I was spinning. I was definitely on the verge of blacking out. "Nope, your boobs look way too good in my top for you to shake them in front of these dickheads tonight, Ellie. I'm sorry." I slurred out as she giggled.
Finn placed a hand on my knee, "Sloane, I think that it's time for you to go home before you fall asleep in a ditch tonight." Ellie laughs at her words as I shake my head.
"No way, I'm fine. I'm just tingling everywhere. Not like an orgasm tingly, but like a mental fog tingle." A shadow crouched down in front of me, caressing my face.
"Woah, baby. You need to throw up or it's coming out tomorrow morning." Reese.
I flung myself in his arms, hugging him. "Want me to take her down the road to the house? She can go to bed there?" He was talking but I couldn't hear him. "No, I think we're going to go home," Finn spoke.
"You guys can't both carry her and hold yourselves up at the same time." I tucked my head lower at his comment. I swallowed my tears at the sad joke he just made, I wasn't that fat. I didn't look that fat tonight, did I?
"We're sober enough, but I swear to god Reese. Females can't trust anyone anymore, don't do anything dumb. Or believe me, my parents will be prosecuting your ass to the fullest extent of the law." His chest rumbled with laughter.
"Blondie, wanna go to sleep in my bed? I promise I will just put you in bed and nothing else. I will go sleep in the fuckroom. You can have my upstairs bedroom." I nodded at his proposition.
And suddenly I was being carried in Reese's arms down the road.
"Stay awake for me right now, Blondie." I giggled at his words as he adjusted me in his arms. "How many touchdowns did you throw today?" I asked him as he smirked at me.
"Okay ball bunny, calm down." The air was getting nippy.
"I was never a ball bunny, if anything you guys were all whores for me." He nodded. "I threw five touchdown passes today, and I ran one in the endzone myself." I cheered. "I was drunk before the start of the second half." He let out a hoot.
"Fifteen minutes? All it took was fifteen minutes for you to get blasted?" He made fun of me as I smiled. "I was a lightweight today," I teased.
But then I got sad.
Because I remembered his comment about Finn and Ellie not being able to carry me.
He wouldn't have made those comments if it were Naomi, Ellie, or Finn. But he made them because it was the truth, I was fucking fat. No matter how much my stomach rumbled, no matter how many situps I did, I was always going to be nothing but a number on a scale.
I shut my eyes, resting my head against his pec. I was still awake, I wasn't dumb. I trusted Reese, but I had to double-check to make sure I trusted him. I heard a door open and I smelled the familiar house scent.
Caden's old house.
Blake's current house.
He carried me up the steps his feet were light against the wooden stairs. I heard a door open before I was laid down on his bed. "I'll leave you sweatpants and shirt, you can change if you want to. Take off your shoes for me, Blondie." I leaned forward, unstrapping the shoe.
He walked away before returning with clothes, he set them on the bed. "Okay, the trashcan is next to you. The bathroom is right in there, next to my closet. I left the door open and the light on for you. Spare toothbrushes are in the hall closet. There are some clothes. I'm going back to the party if you're okay." I nodded, laying my head down against his pillows again.
Reese smelled so fucking good.
"Your phone is in your back pocket if you need anything." I nodded. "Okay, goodnight." He walked away from me.
But I had major word vomit.
"I'm not fat," I spoke as he turned around giving me an odd look. "I know you aren't..." He led off as I nodded.
"Is this some of mind game?" He asked cautiously as I smooshed my face further in the yummy-smelling pillow. "You called me fat." I heard him gasp.
"Sloane, you're nothing but skin and bone. You have ass and boob, but literally—you're beyond skinny. And I never called you fat. Even if you were fat, you'd still be as stunning as you are right now."
I just nodded, closing my eyes.
I heard him huff out a breath before a door shut.
I was exhausted. Emotionally, mentally—every single proton, neuron, and electron that was inside of me was done for. I was trying so hard to be perfect that I was running myself out. I was working back to my normal self, but acting like your normal self for so long doesn't make you feel normal.
It's just a constant reminder that you're a fake.
You're a phony.
I was plastic.
Hard on the outside, nothing on the inside. Cold, hard, shiny, well put together, plastic.
I was struggling and I was dying for someone other than myself to notice, and even though I knew I was destroying myself—I didn't care. I just wanted him back, I wanted my life back.
I missed him so much, but he was in love with her.
A blonde, skinny, ex-best friend, roommate of mine.
What's sad? He truly did look much happier with her than he ever did with me. And that was the worst punch to my cold, shiny, little plastic, dense heart.
For every single moment that I was acting like I was okay without him, I was losing my mind. My heart missed a person that wasn't missing me.
How is it that is so easy for the person to hurt you to move on? It's always the person who fell the hardest that gets the hurt the most. So I guess I had Caden to thank. I would never fall as hard for a person as I fell for Caden because the process will repeat itself and one day the hunger for love will swallow me whole.
I was half asleep and drowning my emotions in my drowsiness when the door was pushed open.
My eyes immediately opened, was my worst dream coming true?
But it turned out to be the best dream.
Manifestation was key, what you put out to the world would come back to you.
"You okay? Did you throw up yet?" Caden's voice broke me out of my drunken emotions. He was here, in front of me? Had my cries for help been answered?
"What are you doing here?" I rushed out as I sat up too fast. He chuckled, "I think I should be asking, what are you doing here? In this room..drunk off your ass?" I cracked a smile at his joking tone.
"I was too drunk for anyone to bring home," I explained, my words were beyond slurred still. He sat at the foot of the bed. "Except Reese, right?" I chuckled.
"Reese is the best. Isn't he? I heard he also packs a good punch." I cracked a joke as he gave me a blank stare. What? Reese had every right to punch Caden, he accidentally punched my best friend.
"Why are you here?" I asked again as he nodded, pursing his lips.
"I'm not one to ever go on social media, but I did. And I guess what I'm here to say is..." He froze, moving his hands trying to come up with words, but he couldn't find the right ones.
"What the fuck were you doing with Blake Day?"
Information about eating disorders.
If you need to seek help, please do. You're not alone!
National Eating Disorder's Association Helpline: 1-800-931-2237
Crisis Textline:
Text CONNECT to 741741
TRUMP GAY COUPLES AND ADOPTION AGENCIES:
https://www.nbcnews.com/feature/nbc-out/adoption-agency-should-be-able-reject-gay-couples-trump-administration-n1224911
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