An Unexpected Kind of Love by Hayden Stone

Chapter Twelve

Later, it’s cooler. And I’m alone. Twilight hangs like a veil beyond my window, the curtains still left pushed back for airflow.

Sleepily, I roll over. Something’s missing. Or someone. As my brain awakens, two things are obvious: Blake’s no longer in my bed, and in the distance, there’s some sort of metallic clanking and the sound of intermittent running water.

Shit. What if the pipes have gone too? One of my fears realized, water damaging the books.

That would be fucking perfect. At this point, I’d believe anything, including that having Blake in my bed was a fantasy in a fevered dream.

Except I see a couple of books on the table next to the sofa that weren’t there before. The romance I’m reading, open facedown, half read. I scowl. And also facedown beneath it, I discover Ten Steps to Personal Growth. Two book atrocities in one go. I find a couple of bookmarks and place them, saving the books from their terrible spine-cracking fate.

How long was I asleep?

Sitting up, I push my hand through my hair and get out of bed. I find a T-shirt again before padding downstairs on bare feet, following the sounds to the kitchen…where I discover Blake at work, testing the tap, and a scatter of tools on the counter and floor. My eyebrows lift at the unlikely combination of Blake and my pocket-sized kitchen, and the fact that he’s in the throes of some manner of DIY project. The duct tape is noticeably absent from the faucet. And God, he’s distracting, with or without DIY, but it may have made him even hotter.

“Blake?”

He turns, his face brightening at the sight of me.

“You’re up,” he says, pleased, like I’m the best thing he’s seen all day. Meanwhile, I’m at a loss about how much time I’ve missed where he could half read two books and play repair man.

Except he’s obviously not playing.

“Check this out.” He turns on the tap. Water pours as it should. When he shuts the tap off, it doesn’t drip. Clearly, I must be standing in someone else’s kitchen and not mine. “You had everything I needed under the sink to fix this.”

“Witchcraft,” I remark. It’s the only reasonable explanation. Who knows what sorts of incantations and rituals are needed to repair aging plumbing without divine intervention? I’ve ordered bits and bobs from internet searches, but I would always get overwhelmed about actually going through with the repair.

“And this.” Turning the faucet from side to side, it moves smoothly, even with the water running.

“Show-off,” I tell him, matter-of-fact as he crows with delight. I give him a wry smile. “You’ve probably put two and two together and figured out that fixing things isn’t exactly my specialty.”

Blake flashes that grin that melts my insides like ice cream left out, a bit squidgy. “Well, your secret is kind of out of the bag.”

“Mm. I didn’t realize you could fix things too.”

“Not just another pretty face for your roster. I have skills,” Blake says lightly, coming over to slide his arms around my waist and giving me a kiss. And God, I’ve never felt so turned on about plumbing of any sort before. Or maybe it was the witchcraft. It’s so hard to tell when I’m, in fact, hard.

“My roster is…” I manage between increasingly urgent kisses, “surprisingly short with the number of pretty faces. Show me what else can you do?”

“Oh, plenty of things,” he growls, cool hands sliding against my belly. I shudder with the shock, then lean in as his hand snakes lower to cup my balls. Groaning, I lean my forehead against his shoulder. “If you want.”

“Believe me, I want.” Pulling him into greedy kisses, my reformed kitchen fades from my awareness into a new reality that only has Blake in it, along with his teasing, which leaves me weak-kneed. “Let’s…take this upstairs.”

“You’re sure?” he murmurs against my ear.

“Very sure.”

And we go upstairs before my legs buckle. My go-to would be clothes off and a hasty dive under the covers, safely shielded from view. Except it’s way too hot for even a sheet. Very soon, I’m standing in only my boxers and cuff watch. Blake traces the tattoo over my shoulder, the dates inside my other forearm of my father’s birth and death. His fingers trace the map of my body, tweaking a nipple ring as I shudder.

He pauses long enough so I can help him out of his T-shirt, and my God. The man is built like something out of a magazine. Not like everyday people. But then again, film people aren’t everyday people.

“Are you a unicorn?” I manage, gawping with plain admiration.

“No, you shameless letch,” he teases, drawing me into a kiss that only makes me hunger for more. Then it’s a stream of eager kisses and we’re both impulsive and desperate. “But…I see you’re a dragon.”

“Possibly,” I breathe as he presses me down onto the bed. His mouth works up my inner thigh, making me shudder, to breathe hot through the fabric of my shorts, already tenting with the strain of my hardness. Because my body doesn’t miss a chance to respond to him.

And then he pulls my boxers down, and I’m entirely naked before him. Self-conscious, I gulp, daring to gaze at him. Blake’s admiring me most appreciatively, much to my surprise, because I’m definitely no actor, just ordinary me with an ordinary body.

Blake teases my cock with his tongue and then I’m definitely floating outside of my body, because he feels so damned good, and his mouth should definitely have some kind of Interpol ban or watchlist at the very least, leaving me all quivers and gasps. I go from clutching the bedsheets to gripping his shoulders, my fingernails digging into his skin, my animalistic urges imprinted on his body.

“Holy…shit…” I reel, unable to take the all too heady combination of the day’s heat and Blake’s nearness and care and the absolutely incredible way he’s working me with his hand and mouth like there’s a million ways to tease me, and let up, and on it goes till at last I can’t stand it anymore. With a shudder and moan, I erupt hot and fast into the sear of his mouth.

Then the room spins and blood pounds and Blake’s kissing me and kissing me and I don’t want him to ever stop. And I’m clumsily helping him out of his jeans and boxers, still far too clothed for my liking, and his cock is magnificent when sprung from its confines. I stroke him as he murmurs into my ear words that are only for me to hear.

And I’m begging him to continue, his hands skimming my body, like there’s a thousand sunsets in his fingers, and he pauses just long enough for a condom and lube.

“Please, Blake,” I beg, unable to wait any longer. Like I’ve been waiting since the dawn of time for this, quite frankly, and I kiss him fierce, biting his lip.

Then, he’s pressing inside me and I’m truly undone, my arms and legs around him as I sob with the weight of him on my body, the press of him inside. And he keeps saying my name in my ear and how can I be hard again so soon, his endless teasing.

It’s incredible, being together like this, a tangle of limbs on cotton, the sunbeam creeping up the wall. There’s a universe inside this room, the ecstasy of him and me and our rhythmic union. And God, he’s so hot, all sleek muscles under my fingers and against my body.

There’s no way to describe this feeling, our shared lust, but it’s becoming more than that, like there’s some kind of promise being made, like there’s a future beyond right now. Like there’s a day beyond this one for us, and maybe a day after that. It’s hard to know, but for once, I see possibilities.

“God, Blake—”

“You’re so fucking hot—”

And then there’s quite possibly begging between kisses and a lot of groaning and I clutch desperately at him as I urge him on for more, uttering complete nonsense.

He pins my wrists down and I groan with the thrill of him, lost in a sea of pleasure as he finally comes with a cry. He moves with me and that’s about when I come too, drowning in his nearness, the way he’s holding me down, watching me with obvious desire. When he collapses half on me, we’re sticky, and God I’d do this all again in a second.

We gasp together.

Blake eventually lets up on my wrists, shifting just enough so he can unfasten the cuff of my watch. And then he discovers the heart tattooed beneath, a legacy from a lifetime ago. And he gazes at me and kisses it reverently before catching my jaw, kissing me so thoroughly like we exist only to kiss each other.

And we lie there kissing till exhaustion’s claimed us again.

After I awaken again, it’s proper night. The curtains and window are still wide open. Coolish air washes over my skin, a sheet around my waist. Blake traces my shoulder, with the small bedside lamp casting a soft glow. He’s backlit, in shadow.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“It’s some unholy hour, I know it,” I mumble into my pillow, all crinkle and fluff. He’s taken away my watch and who knows where my phone is at—God knows what time it is, but it’s definitely a time meant for sleeping. That is, sleeping for the sensible, which clearly he isn’t. It’s every man for himself. I can’t save him but I can try to save myself. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut.

“I have to go before long. I have a six o’clock call. I was torn about what to do, to let you sleep or not, but I didn’t want to sneak out either.”

“Mmmph.” I press my face deeper into the down pillow. Reluctantly, I soon shift to look at him, curling my body around his. He draws me into his arms and this is so perfect I could live in this moment forever, skin to skin. It’s been so long since I’ve been held like this. Since—

Not going there. Not now. Don’t ruin the moment, brain.

He kisses me lingeringly. “I want you to know I had the best time.”

Sleepy, I smile into his shoulder. “For the record, I’m mortified that you’ve seen how I live but…I had a great time too.”

And I really do mean it, against all odds of letting myself have any fun. He’s been entirely delicious and I’m not sorry for indulging in some vegan dessert.

“Does that count as a second date, fixing your sink?” he asks, nipping my ear.

I hook my leg over Blake’s. “I think that’s the natural progression. Vegan restaurant and meat snacks straight to sink repair. Seems about right. Imagine what date three will be like.”

Blake laughs with delight. “Can’t wait.”

His fingers continue to trace my skin, the pale freckles, the outline of the dragon that lives in indigo on my shoulder. Goose bumps rise. “Tell me about this tattoo. It’s great.”

I shift slightly, better to look at him over the pillow. “It’s a dragon,” I say lightly.

“I can see that. Don’t make me tickle you,” he teases with a growl.

“Oh God, please no. I’m not into that.”

Blake grins. “’Kay. No tickling, but I’m curious. It’s really nice.”

“Thanks. It was a splurge,” I admit. “Before everything with the shop. I used to read a lot of dragon books. Especially when I was a teenager. And so did my dad. He got a matching one, because he read dragon books too. Actually, he got me into them. And now whenever I see that tattoo, I think of him. He…he died a couple of years ago.”

“I’m so sorry you don’t have him anymore,” Blake murmurs, his gaze soft.

“Me too.” I sigh, reaching to trace his jaw, the comfort of stubble beneath my fingertips. “He was a brilliant dad. Cool. Funny. I miss him a lot. I just wanted him to be proud of me, you know?”

“Of course.” Blake kisses me then, and I don’t feel alone. Comforted. Like I can be vulnerable in front of him and it’s okay. “How could he not be proud of you? You’re amazing. Funny and cool too, by the way.”

I give him a wry smile, thinking of the shop struggles. And a wash of earnestness that I had to admit I rather liked. “I try my best, but sometimes I’m not sure it’s enough, you know?”

“Life has ups and downs,” Blake admits. “And family can be complicated. I don’t know what I’d do without mine, though. I totally hear you about wanting your dad to be proud of you. I’m the same with mine. And sometimes it’s complicated. But they mean everything to me.”

We share a smile, another kiss. It’s scary how easy it is, talking with him like this. Like it’s something we’ve done before. Something we might do again.

“Your family must have some fancy house like we see on the programs from America,” I say at last into the silence.

It’s his turn to laugh. “Oh no. I grew up poor, in the south, on a small farm that probably costs more to run than it’s worth. My dad raised us, or tried to. Me and my two younger sisters, Lexi and Leah. They’re still home. It was the hardest thing I’ve done, leaving home and leaving them. I’m working to help support them too. So I get when you’re talking about how family’s so important to you. ’Cause they’re everything to me.”

“No mum?”

The corners of his mouth turn down and twist sour. “She took off a long time ago. And she hasn’t been part of our lives since.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, gorgeous. It was her choice. For the longest time, I thought maybe if I’d been better—a better kid, better student, better worker on the farm—maybe she wouldn’t have gone. It took me a long time to figure out that it was all her and not me.”

“You were only a kid when she left?”

“I was nine, the girls six. Twins.”

“They’re lucky to have you, though.”

He gives me a sad smile, unexpected. “But, you see, I left them too. To follow my dream to perform. So, all of this doesn’t come for free.”

What he’s saying makes sense, all things I didn’t know or couldn’t imagine from looking at him, or his sleek Instagram photos. “But you seem so glamorous.”

Blake smiles. “Thanks. That’s just styling, though. Marketing. Really, I’m just a simple guy, trying to make things work. I’ve been lucky enough that it’s worked so far. This was my biggest break yet, as a supporting actor. So I had to take the chance. And I don’t regret it. Especially not since it’s given me the chance to meet you.”

“Me?” Imagine, Blake Sinclair excited to meet me. What a mad idea that is. “I’m sure you could find men having a lark with bookshops closer to home.”

“Yes, but”—he draws me into a lingering kiss—“they’re not you.”

The kiss is bliss, meaning more after making myself vulnerable before Blake by talking about my past. He didn’t run, didn’t bolt. Hearing a little about his background with his family makes him more real, like we’ve discovered some common ground between us. And now I’m literally tongue-tied and twisted with Blake, and I’m grateful.

“Any luck in the camera shop?” I ask eventually. “I never asked.”

“Finding you there was lucky,” Blake says affectionately, which leads to more kisses. He grins as I shake my head, laughing. “I was just in getting a couple of filters, no new camera for me either. Sometimes I take a few shots while we’re waiting between scenes or on breaks. Beats sitting around all of the time. When I can, anyway. It’s not always so simple. Depends on the shoot.”

Intrigued, I gaze at him. “Would you show me any of your photos? I mean, ones not on Instagram?”

“If you’re good. Or…not.”

It’s my turn to nip at him, and his shoulder is my target. He shivers and reaches to smooth my hair.

“I can be very not good,” I promise solemnly.

He laughs, obviously pleased. “Only if you show me yours.”

“Dirty man.”

“Filthy.”

We laugh and I lift my head slightly to peer at him. He’s languid, a hand behind his head, looking entirely at ease.

“You actually slept in my terrible sofa bed?” I ask as we both sit up at last.

“I actually did. It’s not so bad. And I finished your book, ’cause I’ve been up for a bit and didn’t want to get caught out like a creeper watching you sleep. I do think you tend to sell yourself and your surroundings short. It’s all charming, like you.”

“You saw my sink,” I point out. “That’s a nightmare, not charming.”

“Well, I might give you the sink.” Blake laughs.

I gaze from him around the room. It’s so small and so full of books, from floor to ceiling, us tucked in a corner on the sofa bed, the desk under another cascade of books, plus the books stacked in front of the tall shelves. The few bits of wall are covered in vintage prints and posters. A red acoustic guitar sits on a stand in a corner.

“Most people don’t live in their stockroom.” I shake my head with a sigh. “I mean, I didn’t used to.”

He takes my hand, squeezing it. In response, I shiver. “Well, I think you’ve got a perfect setup. Three-second commute to work. And entertainment too. Didn’t know you played.” He nods at the guitar.

“My dad’s. I guess you’re right, that it’s convenient being here, but…” It all comes back then, after my suspension of reality, lost in this alternate universe with Blake, where time stills. Coming back to the real world is terrible. I’d rather live in this moment, because it can’t last for a million reasons. And now I’ve got a damaged shop in disarray.

With a sigh, I rub my face with my hands. I don’t want to deal with any of it.

“If you don’t mind my asking, why do you live in your stockroom?” Blake asks curiously.

It’s a fair question, an inevitable question, but a question that squeezes a groan out of me anyway.

“Because I couldn’t afford a flat of my own after my last relationship ended.” I look anywhere but at him. “I’m putting most of my salary straight back into the shop, because it’s struggling a lot, to be honest. I own the shop, since my mum signed it over to me a couple of years ago, not long after my dad died. I can’t let her down, because she’s got too much to deal with already without me being the Barnes that makes the shop go under. Plus, I want to help her,” I confess, daring a glance at him. “So everything’s fucked up.”

Blake’s quiet, taking this all in. He’s contemplating me, all angles in the low light, his hair delightfully tousled. Is he regretting this, regretting me? Spending time with awkward Aubrey Barnes in his disaster shop?

Instead, he draws me into a kiss. “That all sounds like a lot. And admirable too.”

“Admirable!” I laugh, but I don’t feel it. An old familiar feeling settles in the pit of my stomach, grief and loss and the lingering shadows of the past. “No. I’m trying to do my best after my dad died. My mum hasn’t been well since then. Well, before, really. She can’t work anymore. So I support her. And when things ended with Eli, it just seemed like I needed to focus on her and keep the shop going.”

“Do you mind if I ask what happened with your ex?” Blake asks tentatively. “You can tell me to fuck off otherwise. I don’t mind.”

My head snaps up. I wasn’t expecting that. God, what to say that doesn’t sound all woe is me? There’s the I wasn’t good enough for him or the I wasn’t fun or sexy enough for him or the everything got too real once I left uni after first year. What comes out is a bit different.

Stick to the facts. Brief, succinct, to the point, Aubrey.

“He left me for our best friend, Ryan.” I do my best to keep my voice calm and even. There’s no giveaway waver, or telltale pause. “Eli—you met him, that day in the shop, after you sent the flowers. He just lives up the road. We’re trying to be friends but it’s not always easy.”

Facts. Just facts.

Blake gasps slightly with the surprise. “Oh no, I’m so sorry.”

“It was over a year ago, so I’ve had some time to get used to it,” I tell Blake with a sigh. It’s not quite forlorn, but it’s real, and carries weight. “It wasn’t easy to get over, since we were together so long.”

A separation I never wanted.

“Still…” Blake frowns. “That’s really tough. Like, a double betrayal. Losing your partner and your friend.”

Uncomfortable, I shift and inspect my fingernails. I’ve started chewing them again lately. Not an attractive habit. I try to hide my hands instead.

“It’s complicated. And…we changed. I mean, we were together since we were sixteen. So we didn’t know what it was like to date someone else as an adult,” I try to reason. “But, yeah. Ryan was my friend first, and then he became our friend. A couple of years ago, more now, he was hit by a car on his bike. We both helped him out after, while he got used to life in a wheelchair when he couldn’t walk anymore. Then, I guess things developed between them. I mean, obviously they did. And I moved out and Ryan eventually moved into Eli’s flat. And to be fully honest, moving on’s been rough.”

He looks at me in a wry way that makes me swallow hard, like he’s seeing right into the core of me.

“Anyway, that’s history,” I say awkwardly. “And…here I am. In a stockroom.” I wave a hand around. “The pro is I have plenty of things to read.”

Blake takes my hand, overturns it to trace the heart tattoo before kissing it again, like I’m someone special to be fawned over. If only. I gaze at him as goose bumps track up my arms.

Blake considers me. “So I guess you live with a lot of ghosts.”

“Guess I do, yeah.”

We’re quiet for a long time. Trust Eli to be a conversation killer.

Blake shifts, lost in his own thoughts.

“What’re you thinking?” I ask at last.

“About my own ghosts,” he confesses with a sigh. “We all have them. I mean, a couple of my ghosts are exes too.”

I trace his arm as I listen.

Blake shakes his head. “I had a long-term boyfriend who left me to go back to his ex. And, well, it hurt. I couldn’t live up to whatever they had, I guess. It felt like he was living more in an idealized past than the present, you know?”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks.” He squeezes my hand, gazing tentatively at me. “I was cheated on a couple of times. Once was bad enough. The second time, with another boyfriend, I was sure I was cursed. That there was something wrong with me.”

It’s hard to imagine Blake going through something like that, when he seems so together. Who wouldn’t want Blake? I wouldn’t say he’s perfect, because no one is, and that’s a lot of expectation to live up to, but he’s sexy and funny and kind. And the way he looks at me is a way I never thought anyone might look at me again.

“I promise things are over with Eli,” I say softly to him. “I wouldn’t dream of cheating on you. Or anyone.”

He swallows hard, his expression momentarily raw before he smooths it over again. “’Kay. You’re sure? ’Cause… Well, I really like you a lot, Aubrey. Even if it hasn’t been that long. If…if it doesn’t work out between us for whatever reason, please be upfront with me.”

“I will.” I hold his gaze. It’s hard to breathe when he looks at me like that, so vulnerable. And with longing too. Like we’re not together for a handful of days before reality takes over again and he has to go home. But, maybe we can figure out this long-distance thing. Maybe that’s a thing people do. “I want you.”

“I want you too,” Blake murmurs.

And again we’re lost in each other, kissing with reverence.

“You’re brilliant.” I gaze tenderly at Blake. Imagine a couple of weeks ago, my life pre-Blake, pre-filming and rom-coms. What a dark time. Now, it’s like I’ve got hope again.

“So are you. From what I’ve seen.”

“You hardly know me,” I murmur teasingly.

“I know, but I’d love to get to know you more. If you’d let me.”

I gulp and nod.

His answering smile warms the room. And me. “Besides,” Blake drawls, “you need some serious bean education. Who else is going to provide that?”

“Nobody else,” I say with certainty, because that’s a plain fact.

“I really like you, Aubrey.”

“I really like you too,” I confess sheepishly, my face warm. I can’t quite look at him. There’s tumult in my stomach at the realization that Blake actually does mean something to me. Something important and unexpected.

Blake considers. “You want to do something rash?”

A laugh escapes me. “Like what, aside from being up at a ridiculous hour for this long without tea? Go all out at the organic grocery store? Buy mixed nuts?”

He grins. “Nope. Let’s get away together on the weekend. Out of the city, away from anything to do with films and media. We can even take our cameras. Your shop’s still closed, right? And by the look of things, they need to do repairs before you can put anything back in order.”

I open my mouth to protest. To say no, I can’t, I couldn’t possibly. There are the floors to repair, the shelves to restore, and never mind what promises to be days of sorting out books into their right places. He’s got to be mistaken, like he’s got some read on me that I haven’t, because I feel like someone who’s far from living up to my potential. Everything I wanted was put on hold for Mum and the shop. There’s no place for me.

And yet. His eyes are a deep blue in this light, his gaze steady and unwavering and hopeful. It does something melty to my insides, and I’m going to blame that for what happens next.

“’Kay, all right,” I find myself saying to my complete shock. “Let’s fuck off out of town for a couple of days, then.”