Falling for Autumn (8 page)

“Autumn, I’m going to head out.” I forced my eyes opened and my heart momentarily stopped. Seeing a large male figure standing over my bed was unexpected. I gasped and sat up straight. After a few calming breaths, I was able to shake off the remnants of sleep and remember Blake had spent the night in my room.

“Okay, see you in class.”

He rocked back and forth on his heels and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“It’s fine.” I shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. He had no idea how much trust it took to spend the night with him alone.

“Do you have classes this morning?”

“No, just a night class.”

“I was thinking we could go
to the museum, maybe work on our project.” Blake looked sheepish and it didn’t fit in with his usual arrogance. I suspected he was struggling with his feelings toward me. He seemed torn in two—one part of him resisting us growing closer while the other part was drawn to me. I’d been entirely focused on my issues, my reasons for keeping everyone at a distance, and I had missed how off Blake’s behavior had been. I wondered if it was some type of game to him—the back and forth between drawing me in and then pushing me away.

“Okay,” I agreed. We had to go to the museum for class and it would be easier to go together since Blake had the car. I was rationalizing because the real reason I wanted to spend more time with him was hard to digest. I wanted to spend more time with Blake because I wanted to disprove what he said the night before. I didn’t want to believe he was toxic, but he was hiding things. Blake had said he had so much rage inside and I was certain that rage had to be born out of something from his past.

“Darien is going to pick me up and then after I go home to shower and change I’ll come back to get you. If it works for you, I’ll pick you up in a couple of hours and we’ll drive to the Philly museum.”

Before I could reply, the sound of the door opening startled me. Blake turned at the noise as
Lexi walked into the room. She took a step back as Blake came into her view, most likely never expecting to see a man in our room at such an early hour.

Her mouth dropped and I saw her struggling to recover from Blake’s presence. “I’m sorry, I thought you were alone,” she stuttered. My lips parted and I found myself speechless while Blake looked nonplussed. He smiled widely, putting his mask firmly back in place.

“I’m Blake, you must be the roommate.”

“
Lexi,” she replied with her mouth opening and closing. She looked past Blake to me and I gave her a shrug.

“Well, Darien will kick my ass if I’m not outside waiting for him. So I better go.” He turned to face me. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way.” With a wave to both
Lexi and me, he was gone. The room felt emptier without his overpowering presence.

Lexi
stayed rooted to the spot next to our door. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion wrapping around her words. “Did Blake sleep here?”

I pointed to the makeshift bed on the floor. “He knocked on the door drunk at three a.m. and asked to crash here.”

Lexi’s eyes widened and she moved further into the room. She set her overnight bag on her bed and then sat down. She smoothed her comforter before meeting my eyes. “Are you and him a thing?”

“No,” I answered shortly. “He told me last night I would end up hating him one day.”

Lexi’s nose twitched. “Why would you hate him?”

“Apparently he’s a dick with anger issues.” I tossed the comforter off of me and turned to face her. “What he said should freak me out, but it doesn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s never shown that side to me and I felt like he was just saying those things to scare me. Like if he’s such an asshole why would he bother giving me a heads-up?”

“Maybe it was just drunken babbling. Finn told me one time after he was drinking he was responsible for inventing the cronut.”

I smiled. “It’s weird,
Lexi. There’s no logical reason why I should be drawn to him, but I can’t help it. I like him.”

“Autumn, he’s a smoking hot footbal
l player—you don’t need to sell it to me.” She smiled and said, “Have you kissed?”

“No, but I’ve thought about it…
a lot
.” Lexi laughed at my admission. “But he’s putting me in the friend zone for some reason.”

“His actions are sending a completely different message. Most guys don’t come to a girl’s dorm room in the middle of the night because she’s such a good friend.”

“We’ll see what happens. I don’t want to overthink it and end up hurt. I know he’s been seeing other girls, so I’m going to keep my expectations low. It’s not like I’m going to fall in love with the guy.” Lexi’s eyebrows lifted. I tilted forward. “
I’m not
. I may want to kiss him, but I have some sense of self-preservation. I’m not going to pretend he’s suddenly going to change for me and want to have an exclusive relationship.”

“So you only want to kiss him? Without any feelings and without anything else happening…”

“Would it be crazy to have my first time be with Blake? Probably. But maybe it would be incredible…” I groaned and rubbed my palms across my cheeks. “Look at me, I sound crazy. We haven’t even kissed and I’m talking about sleeping with him.”

“You’re not crazy. It sounds like he’s the first guy in forever you really like. That’s a big deal. Be smart and take your time getting to know him first, but don’t close yourself off because of rumors about him.”

Lexi had a point. I should’ve never given any clout to the rumors about Blake, considering my history with hateful gossip. I wanted to get to know him better and decide what kind of person he truly was for myself.

***

“This is boring,” Blake complained while faking a yawn.

“You suggested coming here,” I said and moved to stand in front of the next painting.

Blake followed at my heels. “I thought we could just buy the tickets, show the professor, and then look up the pictures online. Let’s blow this off and go get cheesesteaks for lunch.”

I held up my notebook. “I still have to pick out a painting and take notes. We need to do an overview of one of the pieces and then discuss the imagery, symbolism, brushwork, and use of color.”

Blake pulled a face. “I was in class, I heard the assignment.”

“Sure you did,” I said and patted his arm. “Maybe if you stopped binge drinking, you wouldn’t have to rely on me to tutor you.”

“All right, let’s do this. Can we find some better pictures to look at? I hate the blurry nature ones…”

“Impressionist paintings. And you say you pay attention in class.” I pointed down the hall to our left. “I’ll continue here and you can go search for a few nude paintings to occupy yourself.”

“Sure, that will get me an A in the class; hand in a porn paper. Anyway I prefer the real thing to the pictures.”

Instead of answering, I continued to travel slowly from painting to painting, searching for one that grabbed me and I could write a stellar paper on. I liked being inside the forced quiet of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Conversations were whispers in between reverent stares as the visitors got to glimpse objects of beauty created through the centuries. I preferred the older works, so we had started our tour in the European Art Gallery. The museum was three floors and I doubted we would be able to view all of the collections in a single visit. I wouldn’t have minded spending the entire day wandering the museum, but Blake’s interest had been waning for the past hour and a half since we arrived.

“Do you want to check out the American wing? Maybe we could find a football drawing you can wax poetic on.”

“A change of scenery sounds good.” Blake nodded. “And I’m
going to ignore your sarcasm.”

The American wing was nearby on the same floor. The area was mostly empty and our steps echoed through the wing. The interior design was minimalist, allowing the artwork to shine. I sat down on one of the benches in the center of the room and surveyed the area.

My skin prickled as I felt Blake’s arm brush up against my own as he took a seat next to me on the bench. My breath had caught when he picked me up outside of the dorms. He had worn a dark green sweater and the color was perfect on him. He was freshly showered with a few stray droplets running down the side of his face. When I took a seat in his car, I had wanted to reach over and remove them with my fingertips. I had kept my hands down at my sides and instead looked out the window for most of the ride. Blake was beautiful in a dangerous way and it was part of my self-preservation to have a look-but-don’t-touch policy in place.

Focusing back on the paintings, I saw flashes of pink and white on canvas that caught my eye. I stood back up to get a closer look at the floral painting. It was easy to identify the work as Georgia O’Keefe—I considered her one of my favorite American artists.

“
Two Calla Lilies on Pink
.” Blake joined me, reading aloud the accompanying label. “You like this one?”

“I do. I love how the yellow of the pistils pops against the pink and white. I also love the detail of the petals, how it creates movement in the work.”

He lowered his lashes and scrutinized me. “You are really into this, aren’t you?”

I ignored his question and continued, “I read that a lot of critics described O’Keefe’s paintings as representations of female sexuality, but that was never her intention. She wanted to bring attention to something beautiful that may otherwise go unnoticed.”

“Shit, Autumn, why did you tell me that? Now guess what I keep seeing when I look at the painting?”

I giggled, probably a bad move since I didn’t want to encourage him. It was funny to experience an art museum with Blake; he was completely a fish out of water. He lacked the confidence I had seen around campus and in the football videos. I was comfortable in the museum setting; I liked the quiet and how the paintings were able to evoke such strong emotions with a single glance. Since I mastered the ability of emotional suppression, it was a relief to allow myself to feel for once.

“I think this is going to be my pick for the paper,” I said. “Do you want to search around for your choice?”

“Sure, can I borrow a pen and paper?”

I ripped out a piece of notebook paper and dug into my purse for a pencil. Handing it over, I said, “No pens allowed. Meet me back here when you’re done or call me.”

Fifteen minutes later, Blake hadn’t returned. I stuffed my notes into my bag and took the time to wander around the exhibits. I liked Blake’s company, but I didn’t feel inclined to rush along with him by my side. Alone, I could stare at each piece and get lost in the world created by the artist. When Blake had been next to me, I found myself preoccupied. I would catch his scent and my body would tighten in anticipation. Or I would hear his steady breathing and get lost in the sound. Blake was enchanting me and I was doing nothing to stop it.

After half an hour with no sign of him, I sent him a text to find out where he had wandered off. He replied back to meet him in the lobby. With his stomach most likely driving him toward the exit, I wasn’t surprised he had finished in record time. Entering the lobby, I found him within seconds, my gaze drawn to him. I smiled as I saw him casually leaning against the wall across the room. He was a good head above most people there and the shirt he had worn for the day could barely contain his well-developed arms and chest. He was a completely different species than any other boy I had known. He was strong and masculine, and his presence demanded everyone’s attention. As the grin refused to leave my face, I became certain I wasn’t the first girl enthralled by Blake Preston.

He moved away from the wall at my approach and returned my smile. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes. Did you find something to write your paper on?”

He nodded. “There was a sailboat painting I liked. Figured I could pull some stuff out of my ass and say despite the struggles faced by the crew because of the storm, the artist included sunlight in the distance as a symbol of hope.”

“Very profound,” I said. “Cheesesteak time?”

“I actually bought you something,” Blake said and picked up a shopping bag set on the floor beside him.

I removed it from his hands when he held it out for me. My eyebrows lifted as I noticed the cylinder shape of the package. I looked at the tag on the packaging before giving him a questioning look.

He explained, “They had a poster version of the flower painting you liked. I thought you could hang it up. Maybe get rid of those bare walls you’re so fond of.” I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he tried to bring a little levity to the mood. “You can’t hold me accountable for any dirty thoughts I may have when I come over though.”

He rendered me speechless and I was desperately trying to put a lid on the emotions wanting to bubble over. My only companion for two years had been fear and anxiety. But Blake was eliciting feelings I had forgotten about. He made me feel like there was a world of possibility open. Blake Preston had managed to get under my skin.

“Thank you,” I managed, my eyes dropping to his sneakers. I had so many questions and I wasn’t ready for him to see them yet. Were we only friends? Or was every day we spent together leading up to more? For someone who insisted on keeping things platonic, he was becoming the master of changing the rules.