As it turned out, Blake had planned much more than just a starter menu and a cheese marathon.
As we approached KFC for our options of boneless chicken, fried chicken or shredded chicken, another royal menu appeared from under Blakes polished seat. I blushed as he proudly passed me the writing, obvious to the effort he knew I appreciated. We ordered the same once again - fried chicken burgers.
The quarter I managed was delicious - crumbly, tender, rich...yet the guilt was richer. I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind, pressing pause on the internal battle between body and brain. Blake distracted me enough; we sat in another identical parking lot, speaking about Blakes hidden love for photography. He showed me some of his work on his phone, explaining each photograph with precise detail. They were phenomenal. The lighting, the shadows, the models, the backgrounds...even the tiniest specifics such as a colour code with the main model in red and the passerby in the background blurred behind a crimson coat. He had an attentive eye for art.
I admired his shoots, listening intently as he explained his inspirations and ideas, showing me before and after shots and introducing me to his friends in the spotlight of his lense.
The boy with striking red hair, covered in tattoos from his neck to his tanned kneecaps, Harry, was named. Blake said they had been friends ever since his first job - an underage bartender in a rat infested pub bar - the older, 'seriously dope' supervisor sparking a bond with Blake as he taught him the ropes. They both quit together years ago, Harry pursuing hairdressing and Blake hopping from place to place.
Harry had a flare for style, his heavy cargos and icy chains putting an edge on his tailored stubble, a neon green top strangely complimenting the khaki bottoms that were ribbed at both knees. The backdrop of central London completed the masterpiece, green flowers sprouting from between a metal gate as Harry pressed his flawless features into the industrial copper. The shadows passed perfectly over his nose and jaw, creating the illusion of prison bars alongside the corresponding slit highlighted on his left eyebrow. All in all...the outcome was beautiful.
The next photo was of the girl with whips of silver cream, the ringlets of glossy curls falling at shoulder length upon her bare shoulders. Nina was gorgeous, her slim frame and perky bust outlined by a skin tight white romper, the red rose in her nest of delicate twirls completing the innocent look and adding a fizz of colour. Her smile was immaculate, the camera zoomed in to just below the elbows, an upper body shot of pure perfection as she flashed her pearls at the glass, catching the wonders of her dusty highlight as it lit her features up like a Christmas tree. She looked like a goddess, hair styled still, a smile that lit up her red lips and a figure that was made for an angel. What if she was Blake's girlfriend? A strange twang of dark electricity bolted through me, comparison digging a dark hole in my mind. She was ridiculously flawless, there was no way Blake hadn't shacked up with her. But apparently, she was more like family.
'These are...honestly Blake, I have no words." I was, quite frankly, in awe of his talents.
"Speechless on the first date, now that's worth a photograph..." I stiffened. He said date. Date.
Surely, that meant Nina wasn't his girlfriend. I let out a grin at the thought of it, planting the seed that maybe, just maybe, Blake found me just as beautiful as I found her.
Stop. I have a boyfriend; a loving, caring...protective boyfriend. Jackson and I had lived what felt like a lifetime together. Why was my mind suddenly shifting?
We spoke for a while longer, him telling me all about the new camera he saved up for, saying it was the best gift he ever bought himself. I let my thoughts of Jackson drift away...far, far away. Then, as I hid the remainder of my unfinished burger in the bottom of our second paper bag, Blake was off again. We drove for longer this time, into the depths of a street I wasn't familiar with. There were signs illuminating the puddles, reflections naming chippies and kebab houses. We pulled up on double yellows, Blake unlocking the door and throwing a wink my way before running up the street and into an off-license. I sat patiently, waiting for his return. This was exciting, I was actually enjoying myself for once. He had left the heating on for me, the warmth from the footwell calming my shivers and aiding my goosebumps. I was surprised at the fact another menu hadn't appeared yet, the sudden stop peaking my curiosity. As if on cue, a message popped into my mailbox.
Mint-choc chip or Chocolate? - B
Not even a question. Mint-choc chip. I sent back my reply and hugged my phone close to my chest. I hadn't had ice cream in such a long time...the idea of it terrifying me and exciting me all at once.
I watched the door of the shop swing open and close as customers came and went, coins dropping from hands, torches searching in handbags and facemarks hanging off ears. I waited for Blake to appear, but he was taking his sweet time.
Sweet...ice cream. As I shut my eyes and imagined the chocolaty swirls of milky heaven and minty freshness of pastel green cream, I remembered the last time I tasted such luxury.
It was a few months after Jackson had moved in with Pat, a date we had planned outside of the house. We went to the beach, I drove us in the early hours of the morning to watch the sunrise and cuddle up on the salty shore. He came running over to our spot on the damp sand, two dripping cones in his jumbo hands. Both Vanilla. I hated vanilla.
I took the cone anyway, pecking him on the cheek as he huddled close next to me. I licked the escaping tears cascading down the curve of the cone, rounding the soft scoop into a slick snowball. "Do you not like it?"
Jackson had realised I only took an interest in the cone every few minutes, the tasteless cream not doing wonders for my senses. "Vanilla isn't my favourite flavour, babe."
With this, Jacksons tone shifted. His relaxed arm wrapped over my shoulder stiffened, his jaw clenched and he dug his heels into the deep sand. It was like a flicker of the TV, a glitch in reality that never really happened, as a millisecond later, he was back to normal...hand gripping my shoulder and his sharp chin lifted up to the rising sun, breathing in the salted air. I stared at him in confusion, nudging him as I asked the question with my eyes. What the hell was that all about?
"Less calories." Jackson spat.
I did a double take at that moment. In replace of my sweet boyfriend was a vicious viper, poison flaring from his fangs. The words contained hurtful intentions, his face unmoving from it's shine in the midmorning sun.
"Excuse me..." stunned, I turned my body to face his, ice cream cone long forgotten.
"Baby, since i've been around so often, we've been eating out a lot. Almost every weekend we get a takeaway, and most nights you have seconds...its starting to show." No emotional reaction whatsoever, a statement, not an assumption.
"You like Saturday night takeaways...you always suggest it." I remember holding back hot, wet tears.
Jackson sighed then, shrugging his shoulders as he lifted my chin up to meet his eyes. "I go to the gym six times a week, I follow a strict protein diet and care what I put in my body every other day. You need to look after your body baby, or I'm obviously going to think different of you."
Obviously.
I remember the smug grin on his face, a look of meaning. He had meant every single fucking word. If I didn't lose the weight, and stopped enjoying food, he would leave...I took it as a threat. So, as we sat there on our sunrise shore, my ice cream falling victim to the pulling sand that sucked it up and covered it in crystals, toxifying it so I no longer had the urge to lick the dripping vanilla...not that I was still hungry then anyway. Jackson kissed me lightly on the lips, continuing to hold my chin in a grip that was impossible to pull away from. I was angry for sure, and confused...but more so numb. Hurt was everywhere, yet his love put a pathetic bandage over every open wound.
"Amelia!"
I flew into the window as a hand touched the top of my shoulder, icy fingers sending shivers down my spine. There he was, holding two pints of ice cream - Mint-choc chip and Chocolate.
I composed myself, my obvious flinch pulling me out of a dark memory.
Blake noticed, crap.
He propelled his hand back, the tub placed down by my feet as he climbed into his seat and slowly closed the door. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, yes i'm fine. Sorry, I didn't see you coming back." I tried to slow my breathing as I frantically rubbed my arms to rid of the snowy hills that covered my entire being.
Blake looked over me with hooded eyes, his hands placed firmly beside him as not to startle me again. "Didn't hear me saying your name either?"
"Must have been having a day dream." More like a night terror.
Blake didn't look convinced, the aura in the car melting the frost off the ice creams. I shuffled my feet over to my side of the car, careful to hide the shaking that could mimic an earthquake from his view. I really had to get my shit together.
"So, you promised me an adventure." My attempt at moving past this awkward eternity was poorly estimated, not that I could have managed any other sentence in that moment.
With a long glance from Blake, and a deep blush from me, he carefully placed his hands on the steering wheel and indicated onto the merging street, fiddling with the radio to fill the deafening silence "I guess you deserve an explanation...come on, lets take this ice cream to go."
...
The night was bitter. Wind engulfed the car like smoke from a fire, my lungs filling with a rush as the cold wrapped its claws around my neck and turned my body to ice. Thoughts spiralled around my head as I fought to breath out the smoke, the grip on my throat restricting any attempt at that. I could feel the panic rising, freezing waves overlapping my organs and filling my lungs, drowning my heart and slowing down my kidneys as the rising flood made its way up my windpipe and into a puddle underneath my tonsils. My body was a whirlpool, an invisible current coursing through my veins as I sat in perfect stillness, silently drowning in the grip of frozen fear.
I couldn't wait not to feel this way ever again...
Blake shut my window from his side of the car. The icicles around my neck melted away, the smoke evaporating and the flood draining as I was saved by the safety blanket of warmth seeping into my lazy river. The condensation from our ice cream tubs was the only remainder of winters wrath, the icy drops wildly trying to freeze my skin and overtake my body once again; but there was no power. The force just wasn't cold enough.
I wondered where we were going as my body warmed and I stopped shivering under the warmth of the heater, much to the ice creams sacrifice. We had driven outside of the main town, down a long stretching road id only ever driven down on a diversion one time. Blake knew where he was going, drumming his fingers to the beat and flicking his headlights to full beam as we passed a speeding car.
Up ahead, I could see a lorry stop. One single street lamp spread shadows over the tarmac, a yellow slumber in the darkness of approaching midnight. Without warning, Blake manoeuvred into the pit stop, slowly rolling to a stop as he killed the engine and the stereo went dead.
Part of me thought I was going to die right there and then. He was a serial murderer. This was, until the hand in his pocket that made my whole body tense revealed two slick, silver spoons. A not so obvious weapon of choice.
I let myself relax as the clink of the spoons filled the empty space, letting any worries go as Blake pointed to the ice creams and I scooped them up. Surprisingly, melting was minimal. The frozen blocks were now soft scoop, but that was more than perfect. I went to open mine up, smell the smell I had craved for so many sleepless nights, but I was stopped by a wavering hand.
"You wanted an adventure, and my favourite adventures involve ice cream." He opened his door and let the cold air engulf the interior yet again, however this time, I could breath. He opened my door for me, helping me out as I stumbled over the wet rocks under my feet. We laughed awkwardly as he caught my arm, the familiar strike of lightning sparking a fire in my stomach.
"A deserted road, I have to admit, I can't speculate much adventure out of this..." I made an attempt to humour him, I hated this awkwardness just as much as he did.
He seemed to appreciate my effort, rewarding me with a wide smile. "You need to be more open minded, darling."
"Well I have a lot of space to do that! Theres nothing but trees and a winding road all around us." I squinted in the dull buzz of the street lamp, tracing my shadow that stained the road. It was true, this was wasteland. In front of the car stood a line of deep oak trees, like a barrier that protected a secret, an obstacle not meant to be overcome, especially not by two suburban teenagers.
"You have to look beyond the obstacles." Here with the riddles again, Blake only let his smile grow bigger.
I took a stroll around the car, my ice cream tub dripping specks of bread crumbs like Hansel and Gretel around the darkened car. As I approached the drivers side, I noticed a dull glow from beyond the trees, faint but just about visible. More street lamps?
As I struggled to work out where the source of light was coming from, Blake stood up high in the air above me. He was on top of his car. "What the hell are you doing up there?"
"Come see for yourself!" He shouted, his voice echoing in the whistle of the wind. Behind him, Blakes jacket flew out like a superhero cape, the wind masking any being of an ordinary boy. I looked for a way up, but struggled to see how he managed it without breaking a wind mirror or opening up the car and stumbling all over his clean seats.
As to solve my dilemma, Blake reached down to help me up. His hand itched to hold mine, my reluctance only vague as I took the risk and gripped his offer to help. With a tug, I hauled myself onto the roof of his car, my ice cream nearly slipping from my fingers. I stood with my back to the tree line as I looked deep into Blakes eyes, his hands gripping my waist as to steady me as I found balance. Even on the top of his car, with roaring wind threatening to blow us away, his presence held me stuck. Like glue, my feet found steadiness.
"Are you ready?" In the undertones of the streetlamp, I saw the excitement on Blakes face. His eyes shone like stars and his teeth chattered with anticipation, not hypothermia. His hands were still firmly holding my waist, slightly wondering onto skin as my blazer rose up in the wind.
I tried to contain my own excitement as his grin spread to the biggest smile I had ever witnessed. "Ready for what?"
Song Dedication - Hate Myself, NF