They fell into silence. Funny. If they hadn’t dated and ended things the way they did, they’d be talking as often as Blake did with Joy. Part of him wished they could go back to the way things were. Another part recognized that was impossible, no matter what they’d agreed to over New Year’s (before they slept together).
Things change. People change. But they never change back.
“What happened on New Year’s—” They spoke at the same time.
“You go first—”
Blake and Cleo looked at each other and laughed in a rare moment of normalcy.
“You go first,” Cleo repeated. She fiddled with her sleeve. With her oversize sweatshirt and bare face, she looked like she was fourteen.
That was the year it all chang
ed. Blake was sixteen, caught up in the throes of high school stardom. Meanwhile, Cleo began looking at him the way girls always looked at him.
Blake wished she hadn’t. He missed the simple, early days of their friendship, before hormones and family and society got in the way.
Regret gnawed at him. “I’m sorry for running out like that,” he said. When Cleo told him they’d slept together, he shot out of the room like there was a pack of hellhounds in pursuit. “I remembered I had to be somewhere.”
It was a lame lie, and they both knew it.
A strained smile touched Cleo’s lips. “It’s ok. You always run.”
Blake frowned. Before he could ask her what she meant, Cleo added, “I’m sorry too. We agreed to put the past behind us and be just friends, and, well, we kinda messed up.”
“Yeah. Tequila’s a bastard.” Blake drummed his fingers on his thigh. Nervous energy zigzagged through his veins. “I’ve never seen you drink so much.”
“I’m not going to drink alcohol for a while, I’ll tell you that much.” Cleo cleared her throat. “How’s…”
“She’s good.” Speaking of Farrah, he was running late for their date.
Funny how that was the thing he focused on when there was the bigger issue of him sleeping with his ex-girlfriend while he and Farrah were together.
The cramping intensified.
Cleo watched him closely. “You really love her, don’t you?”
“I really do.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m the one who didn’t control myself. I could’ve stopped drinking. I could’ve—”
“That’s not what I meant.” Cleo took a deep breath. Her eyes swam with regret and apology. “I’m sorry for what I’m about to say.”
Shit.
That didn’t bode well. At all.
Blake gripped the edge of his laptop. The drumbeat of dread mounted in his chest, growing louder and louder until he thought he’d go deaf from the sound.
Cleo bit her lip, which she always did when faced with a hard decision. He’d seen it when she had to decide between attending STU or Texas A&M for college, and when she wasn’t sure whether to break up with her ninth-grade boyfriend or not.
This time, the stakes were far higher than college and fleeting high school relationships, but Blake didn’t know how high until Cleo opened her mouth and upended his entire world.
“Blake, I’m pregnant.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine