Blake Day
Opening up to someone isn't easy, opening up to someone is like marrying someone. It's intimate and it's supposed to go well.
"Mon bébé comment vas-tu?" Her voice brought a calmness to me that nobody would understand. "Yeah, I'm alright. And you?" She was on my speakerphone as I was spraying on cologne.
Reese, Mitch, Penn, and I were all going out to Mccutchins tonight. It would be the first time we were taking the youngins to a bar and more importantly, it would be the first night that I could go fucking crazy because I had a girlfriend to fall back on.
"I'm alright my love. We are getting ready for bed," Her voice was soft.
I clipped on my necklace around my neck, "You guys are going to bed together?" I asked shocked. They hadn't slept in the same bed for years, since I was a little kid, to be honest.
She chuckled but the chuckle held pain that I wish I could take away. "Goodness no. He doesn't hold that kind of love for me anymore," I hoped that I would never have a love like that.
"Tu mérites mieux maman," I hoped my words formed some type of comfort.
(You deserve better mom.)
Hearing her chuckle, "My darling. How did I ever end up so lucky with you?" I snorted. "Well, I could tell you how..." I lead off as she scoffed. "Blake Daniel, you're such a smart ass." We both let out laughs—it was comedic relief.
"What are your plans for tonight?" She asked as I hummed. "You want the truth?" I responded. Hearing her sigh, I took that as a yes. "Going to the bar with the boys," She was silent on the other end for a moment.
"Mais qu'en est-il de Sloane?" Her question took me by surprise. "Sloane?" I responded as she sighed. "Blake, un jour tu devras grandir. Un jour tu t'installeras et j'espère qu'il n'est pas trop tard car tu étais trop occupé à être comme ton père. J'aime Sloane, elle est électrique." Her response spooked me more than anything.
(But what about Sloane?)
(Blake, one day you'll have to grow up. One day you will settle down and I hope it is not too late because you were too busy being like your father. I love Sloane, she's electric)
Had father not told her? Had he kept her in the dark about yet another thing?
"Je veux dire sérieusement, la façon dont elle a parlé à papa était incroyable!" She gushed over the icy blonde. To be honest, Sloane was a glass of cold water. She knew her opinion and she stuck by it.
(I mean seriously the way she talked to dad was amazing)
"Mom," I needed to tell her before she got heartbroken by him.
But before I could tell her—I heard him enter the room. "El, darling. The Governor of Texas's wife would love to have tea with you in the morning. Would you mind doing it for me?" His voice had a sweet tone to it but it was fake. His being nice was just an act—everything he did was just an act to benefit himself.
"Hold on, I'm on the phone with Blake." I heard him chuckle at her words. "Blake! You better start answering my phone calls! I called twice today!" His voice rang out through the room. I heard my mother shush him.
"Tu t'amuses bien ce soir ma chérie, je t'aime. Amenez-la autour," Before I could respond, the line went dead and I had one more reason to get absolutely shit faced tonight.
(You have a good time tonight my darling, I love you. Bring her around)
Bring her around? Bring Sloane back around? Knowing Sloane she would set the house that my father lived in on fire before stepping foot in his presence again.
I don't blame her though.
Shoving my phone into my back pocket, I threw a piece of gum in my mouth before exiting my room. I heard the boy's laughter and yelling from the bottom of the stairs as I winked at Reese.
"You know what? I've been thinking. Penn, your sister is pretty fucking hot and you know what maybe I made a misjudgment—" before he could continue talking, Penn had slapped Mitch upside the head.
"Off-limits. That goes for all of you horny bastards. I know how shitty we treat women," Reese blinked at Penn's words.
"You treat women shitty. Not me. You guys," He pointed at the three of us as we scoffed.
"Reese you literally have a different girl for breakfast lunch, and dinner. Don't start with that bullshit," I remind him as he flips me off. "The difference between me and you assholes is yeah—there are many but I take care of them. I cuddle them—I definitely don't get their names tattooed on me and I sure as hell wipe off my own cum, I don't make her wipe it off."
Shaking my head at his pointless defense, I grabbed the car keys.
"Who's driving tonight?" I asked as they all pointed towards me. I laughed before shaking my head. "Nope, no fucking way—freshman it's one of you two." I pointed back at them.
With no solution in sight, I sighed. "I'll drive there but I'm not driving home," They cheered knowing that in the end, I'd probably be the one driving home anyways.
Penn and Reese were the first ones to walk out of the house as Mitch and I followed suit. Clearing my throat, I made sure the two up ahead couldn't hear me. "He doesn't know?" I asked Mitch.
I watched as he shook his head, walking out into the night. Chuckling, I nodded. "He's gonna find out. Whether she tells him or someone else does. Christ, you have her name tattooed on you. Be a good friend," I patted him on the back as he nodded.
It wasn't the best advice I could give the freshman but at the moment I was so caught up in this mess called my life that it was the best that I could offer.
And so that leaves us till now.
I was tipsy but not wasted.
I was somewhat happy but not completely sad.
"Yo, Blake! There are about five guys outside with cameras everywhere!" One of the bouncers yelled at me as I nodded taking another sip of my beer. Of course, there were. We had a game this weekend and it was becoming closer and closer to the election.
"Get rid of them!" I yelled back to him as he shook his head. "We can't! They aren't on the property!" He yelled back at me. Glaring, I gripped my glass so hard in my hands I was for sure it was going to shatter.
Walking away from him, I went towards the private section that we all used to sit in. Peaking over to the windows, I looked down to one side, seeing the men hanging around the side of the building. The cameras were large enough to see from the second story of a building.
Great.
Walking over the second set of windows, I froze.
Why was she sitting on a bench? In little to no clothing? In the middle of the night? Was she fucking crazy?
Fucking Sloane Beck.
Ripping my phone out of my pocket, not caring about the time—I dialed Carl's number. Hearing the phone ring for a moment, I stepped to where I couldn't hear the music from downstairs as much.
"Hello?" His voice sounded tired.
"Carl," I said. "Blake?" He responded.
"You have two seconds to tell me if you sent the fucking paparazzi to my location. Two seconds, if you can't tell me I promise—I will drive to wherever you are and shove my foot so far up your ass that when you're in prison because of my father, you won't have to worry about what the inmates will do to you at prison." My voice was fierce and to the point.
Hearing him inhale I started to count.
"One,"
No answer.
"Two,"
"Wait—yes. I did. Your mother told your father where you were going tonight and your father was expecting you to be going to the bar with Sloane. That is the only reason as to why they are there." He confessed.
Gripping my phone in my hand, I ended the phone call. Squeezing my iPhone so hard, I didn't realize that I had actually cracked the screen from the pressure.
Great.
Just fucking great.
They weren't leaving until they got a picture.
Well? If they wanted a picture they were going to get one.
Rushing down the steps—I walked towards the bouncer who had just informed me of the paparazzi outside. "Dude! Throw me out of the club!" I yelled at him. He looked at me as if I had two heads.
"Matti won't allow me to" I cut his excuse off. "Throw me out of the club!" I yelled at him again. He looked to his partner before nodding. Allowing them to grip my biceps, which even then they couldn't handle me—they threw me outside to the wolves.
The immediate camera flashes blinded me but I was too focused on going to the bench to get my girl.
With black spots in my vision, I stumbled into someone only to realize that I had stumbled into the girl whom I was looking for. I felt her body shake against mine defenseless, for once.
"Shh shh!" I shushed her cries, shoving her down the alleyway hoping and praying that they wouldn't pay attention to us.
But my hopes and prayers were cut short.
"Blake! Blake! What is in store for your father once he wins?" Flashes, lots and lots of flashes. Holy fuck. "Blake!" She gripped my hand from her mouth, removing it. Her icy blue eye stared into mine with hatred.
However, something I hadn't realized until now was that she had been crying.
Her eyes were red and almost soulless as they stared into mine and that's when this entire idea I had in mind started to crumble. The press was going to eat us alive with these pictures.
I had thought if I exited the bar, and found the girl who looked unbothered—they snapped a few pictures they would go away. But they were vultures.
"Blake! Who is this!" They started to come down the alleyway. I felt her tuck her body into mine, her face against my pecs—she was shaking like no tomorrow. "Everyone get back!" I yelled.
But they were thrilled that they had gotten the reaction that they had wanted. "Make them stop taking pictures! I can't do this right now!" She cried to me, her cries were vibrating my body. No matter how many men were screaming in my face for a picture right now, she was my only concern.
I needed to make sure that she was okay.
Wrapping my arms around her body I yelled for her to cover her eyes.
"Blake! Your father says that you're a shoo-in for a senatorial race! Would you love that?"
"Blake! How is Matti doing!"
"Blake! Your mom—how does she feel about your father hating immigrants even though she is one!"
"Blake! How could you let him talk about women like that!"
"Miss! Did Blake or Robert Day ever touch you inappropriately?"
The cameras were ruthless and so were the questions. Finding the window-tinted Tesla, I quickly opened the door—throwing the sad blonde inside the car. She would heal from the bruises but she would never heal if the vultures got to her.
Entering the car on the driver's side, I could still hear them screaming through the window questions. They tried to take pictures but luckily the tint was dark enough that the photos weren't coming out.
But she was my main concern.
I was used to that and even still my anxiety would get worse. However, she was not used to it. I watched as she was curled into a ball in the passenger seat visibility shaking. Reaching over I grabbed her knee, rubbing it to calm her down.
"It's me, calm down," I spoke.
I was being kind.
The last thing I had expected was a slap to the face but that is exactly what I had received from her. After the slap came to the shock and then the truth—I did deserve it.
I should've just waited until tomorrow to see her. I shouldn't of drug her into this mess tonight.
We sat in silence for a moment, the yells were still heard from outside of the car but luckily the window tint wouldn't give them any sort of picture at all.
This life was something I hadn't become completely used to but it was something that I had grown accustomed to. It's something that someone should never have to go through but I was learning to live with the invasion of my privacy.
"I deserved that," I broke the silence.
"What the fuck were you thinking! Do you have any idea of what kind of night I was having?" She started to yell and although the windows were tinted, they were not soundproof. I quickly turned on the car before driving away from the reporters.
I watched as she couldn't catch her breath, wheezing in between her words. I turned to face her as she started to turn pale, her face scrunching up in pain and fear. Usually, I couldn't read Blondie, but her walls were tumbling.
"They cant post those pictures! You have to get them to delete them," Turning on the heat for her cold skin, I sighed. "I can't do that, Sloane. It was taken on public property and you aren't a minor." I was apologizing to the girl who was having a meltdown.
A meltdown that I caused.
I felt like shit—I felt so bad. As if I wasn't already in such a mess. I apologized to her, I recognized the problem—I wanted to work this out. Reaching for her again, to talk and to apologize once again—she turned her body away from me.
Ignoring me.
Without communication, this was never going to work.
"Look you think I wanted them to find me? To take my pictures? No! Of course not! But it happened and there is nothing that I can do about it. Newsflash, we are dating and it happens because I'm Blake Day." I spoke to her.
"Where the fuck did you even come from! If you knew they were coming after you—why come after me? Why do that? Why put me in that danger!" She raised her voice at me—good we were finally communicating.
But for us communicating only seemed to flare up her attack even further. Knowing what was happening to her—I recognized the signs immediately.
"Calm down," I spoke while reaching towards her. But she just shoved her body more towards the door. With one hand on the steering wheel, I rubbed her back with my other hand. However, she started to shake even more severely.
I didn't usually get the shakes, I would just zone out.
Hearing her sniffle broke my heart. Taking my eyes off the road I watched as she wiped her eyes and nose with her sleeve. Her eyes becoming puffier as she let tears slip. She wouldn't dare look at me.
My hand that was rubbing her back stopped rubbing as I reached for her knee cap, rubbing it.
"Calm down, it's okay. Calm down," I spoke to her. I checked the rearview mirror to make sure nobody was following us before pulling off to the side of the road. She needed more attention than she needed to get back home at the moment.
Knowing the two girls back at her apartment they wouldn't care for her in this state as I did.
As soon as I placed the car in park, she peeked at me from her corner. "Take me home," She whispered to me.
I wasn't listening to her though. I shut off the car despite her words.
"Are you okay?" I asked but all she did was chuckle.
"Am I okay?" She repeated my question back to me.
"Am I okay after you dragged me into your entire mess tonight? I had such a shitty night already and you had to throw it on top of everything? You're asking me if I'm okay? I would've been okay if you didn't fucking show up out of nowhere and drag me into a mess!" She wheezed in between her works, tears streaming down her face as she flailed her arms at me in anger.
But if there was one thing I knew about Sloane Beck, it was that she loved being touched. It brought her comfort. Throwing my seat back, I gripped her body into my hands before pulling her onto me. "I think you're having a panic attack," I commented.
She shook her head.
I had to distract her—get her mind off of something so I had to do something that I had been doing a lot sadly.
Lie.
"I was in a fight at McCutchins. I didn't know they were waiting for me outside the bar. I didn't know it was you standing outside—I thought you were some random girl." The word vomit flew out of my mouth.
Just like that, she calmed down slightly.
"You got into a bar fight?" She asked and I chuckled. Not because her question was funny it was because I was slowly turning into a fucking clown for lying to her. I was digging the hole a little bit deeper every single time I talked to her.
But she consumed my thoughts like no other.
I cared for her and I hated it.
I shouldn't even be caring for her—she could've killed my child. She hates me—she would throw me under the bus the first chance she got. I fucking hated the fact that I cared for the girl who was sitting on top of me with puffy eyes from crying.
Crying because of me.
"Yeah. Like I said I had no idea that the paparazzi would be outside, watching me get thrown out by bouncers. I had zero clue—I'm sorry that you were having a shitty night and I'm sorry I made it worse." I apologized but it was a bullshit apology since it was lies.
All lies.
I was turning into my father.
But she was finally calming down and coming to her senses. Laying her head on my chest, I dug my fingers in her hair, playing with it.
"You don't look like you got in a bar fight," She teased as I mentally froze, of course. My left hand trailed underneath her sweatshirt, it started to rub her back in a comforting manner.
"It was a yelling match, that's why." I came up with another lie.
"You have to get them to delete those pictures," Her voice was hoarse. But unfortunately, I could give her anything and everything this world had to offer except that.
"Sloane, I can't. No matter how many millions I throw at them—I can't make them disappear. I'm sorry," She groaned.
"Why were you crying? What happened?" I turned the questions on her remembering that I didn't make her start crying—I found her crying. Closing her eyes, she tucked herself closer into my body. Tracing small figures on her back, her fingers played with my chain.
"What do you think happened?" She responded.
"Daddy didn't buy you a new purse?" I tried to crack a joke but as soon as the words left my mouth, she was off of me—glaring into my soul. "Would you stop fucking saying shit like that? I'm not plastic—I may be spoiled but I have to work for them to give me shit. It doesn't just come to me as easily as you think it does and I'm so over you saying this shit!" Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard.
I furrowed my eyebrows before raising one. "Don't flip out on me. I could've left you back there with all of those cameras." I warned her. I had a rough night too—as much as I cared for her, I wasn't a pushover.
"Oh right? Just leave me back in the mess that you made!" She was now yelling at me while sitting in the passenger seat. If I didn't feel guilty, I sure did now.
"Take me home," She whispered.
"Sloane," I sighed her name as she stared forward.
This girl was breaking my nonexistent heart and I don't even know why. I had held her, comforted her. I had done it all for her—I had done more than that shitty ex-boyfriend had ever done for her.
She was being ungrateful.
But I couldn't lose her now.
"I'm sorry, Sloane. I didn't mean it—I didn't mean to make you mad. Please, I had things going on tonight too. I don't want to take you home whenever you're upset like this." I pleaded with her as she stayed silent, emotionless.
"Please? If anything—I'm glad it was you that was there and not some random girl. Just please, talk to me." I ranted out the words to her and although it was lies—it held truth. I'm glad it was her.
I'm glad I was with her.
She understood me and I understood her.
"Are you okay now? You aren't crying—what happened?" I asked her about what happened earlier that made her so upset.
Clearing her throat she spoke, "I got a bad grade and then I saw Sam and then I saw Caden and Sam—then you." I nodded, feeling even more guilty that I drug her into this mess of a night.
There was only one way to make it up to her and it was something that I hadn't done in a while. Opening up to someone isn't easy, opening up to someone is like marrying someone. It's intimate and it's supposed to go well.
"Do you have panic attacks often?" I asked taking a leap of faith for her.
For us.
"What do you know about panic attacks?" I was not expecting this conversation to go down south as fast as it did. She was defensive, her words were cruel, and more importantly—they were judgemental.
Rubbing my eyes, I couldn't help but wonder what the actual fuck I was doing with her in my car at one at night? What was I doing? Really?
I wasn't supposed to care about her—she was supposed to be damage control and she does and says stupid shit like this. Stupid shit that makes me realize that I could be the asshole that everyone wants me to be but I'm not.
I have a weak spot for her and I do let her walk all over me.
Giving her a look of disappointment, I turned back on the car before driving down the road. We sat in silence for a moment as I gathered my thoughts. It was my turn to make her feel like shit.
"I have panic attacks too. In fact, panic disorder. I thought we could talk about it but since you want to be a bitch, I'm just going to take you home." I spoke to her.
"Oh and the bar fight? Yeah. It was about you but you wouldn't know that since you always want to snap at me or disregard how I feel about things. I was the one getting chased by people too, just an FYI. You act like I want to live this life," I let loose as she stayed silent.
Pulling into her apartment parking lot, I put the car in and park, and motioned for her to get the hell out of my car. I don't know what I was thinking about caring for a girl who obviously didn't care for me no matter the amount of good I do for her.
Even considering the circumstance, I wanted to treat her well because that was what she deserved.
She just fucking hates me—or hates the idea of me. More importantly, is she that fucked up that she would rather have sex with a guy and then be left single for the rest of her life?
Opening her door, she placed one foot on the pavement but she turned to look at me in confusion. "I'm sorry? Are you mad at me now?" Gripping the steering wheel, I reached for her leg, yanking it in the car before slamming the door shut.
She gasped as I narrowed my eyes at her. "Yeah? Actually. Fuck you, Beck." I seethed at her.
"Fuck me? Why fuck me? Fuck you!" She yelled at me.
I laughed at her, "No. Fuck you because you don't want to fucking communicate with me ever! I do so much shit to make you happy! I fucking danced with you! Do I look like the kind of guy who dances? Who goes on dates? I do it because I fucking care about you Sloane but you're such a bitch to me! Get out of my car and don't call me until you fix your problems!" I yelled at her before reaching over and opening her car door again.
I watched as her mouth dropped open in shock before she quickly shut it. Without one more word, she stepped out of the car. Giving me one last glance she shut the passenger side door.
She walked around the car, but instead of entering her apartment, she stopped. Sitting outside of her apartment, her ass was on the cold pavement.
"Motherfucker," I muttered, shutting my car off. I couldn't just leave her out here no matter how mad I was at her. Exiting my car, I stormed towards her. "Beck," I called her last name.
Pulling her head out of her hands, the last thing I expected was for her to smile.
The little psychopath was smiling at me.
And I don't know if it was the fact that her blue eyes were puffy which made her look extra adorable or the fact that her body was still trembling as she stood up, but she reached for me while I took a step back.
"Go to your apartment, Beck." I reached my hand outwards to grab the door but she grabbed my hand into hers. Narrowing my eyes at her, I felt my heartwarming.
My nonexistent heart was warming all because of Sloane Beck.
With a smile still on her face, she looked me into the eyes and batted her eyelashes.
"You care about me?" She asked as I hummed at her question. "You care about me?" She asked as I nodded in confusion. "You actually care about me? Like you have to like me to care about me right? You like me and you care about me?" Putting two and two together, I chuckled.
Nodding, I watched as her eyes sparkled in excitement.
"I still fucking hate you," She muttered. Before I could figure out what she was doing, she pulled me down and our lips met. Sparks ignited as our lips met in a fiery passion, I felt like I was spinning with her—drunk on hatred but high on our attraction.
Pulling our lips away from eachother, I slammed my forehead against her as she let out a chuckle, my hands entangled themself in her hair as I placed five kisses around her lips before a final one on top of her lips.
"I still fucking hate you too," I smiled at her before stepping away from her.
She blew a kiss at me as I walked back to my car. "I'll still hate you tomorrow!" She yelled at me as I flipped her off. "Get in your apartment, Beck. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Barbie." I watched as she unlocked the door to the building before looking back at me.
Starting up the car, I rolled down the window. "I hate you, goodnight." Not caring to listen to her response, I drove away.
I was in deep for a girl who I was about to put in a world of pain and knowing that I was going to put in her pain—was going to be the end of me.
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
Depression and anxiety are serious issues that should be addressed. We need to end the stigma around them, I love you all. Don't feel ashamed ever to be depressed or have anxiety.
The National Suicide Prevention Hotline is: 1-800-273-8255
If you are having thoughts about harming yourself please talk to someone- my messages are always open and my comments are always open as well.
The stigma around mental health must end!
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