Born To Be Your's

Chapter 19

Saturday morning settled into the Copper house, cold and dull. Blake and Travis were sprawled on their bunks in the shared room, the space smelling faintly of old coffee and fresh laundry.

“We’re out,” Travis announced, holding up the empty plastic baggie with a mournful sigh. “Completely dry. This whole friendship arrangement is severely affecting our supply chain, B.”

Blake groaned, tossing a pillow at the wall. The thought of confronting the long, tedious day with only his own thoughts for company—thoughts that inevitably revolved around the aggressive, beautiful girl next door—was unbearable. “Fine. I’ll go see Big D. I need a run anyway.”

Just as he pulled on his boots, the window slammed open with a gust of freezing air. Liv scrambled awkwardly through the opening, closing the glass quickly behind her. She was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed with cold.

“Francis had me scrubbing grout with a toothbrush,” Liv said, adjusting her clothing. “Can I hide out here for a few hours. That woman is a tyrant.”

Blake chuckled, tying his bootlaces. “Sure, whatever. I was just about to head out for a run. Want to join? I need to replenish our emotional coping mechanisms.”

Liv smiled, a flash of pure mischief. “Need me to be your bodyguard. Make sure that some cracked-out drug dealer doesn’t touch your dick.”

Blake finally stood up, his six-foot frame filling the cramped room. He walked toward her, meeting her gaze with a challenging intensity that belied the platonic truce.

“I’m not worried about Big D, Liv,” Blake murmured, his voice low and rich with innuendo. “I’m worried you’ll realize nobody else can squeeze me as tight as you do.”

Liv’s breath hitched, her eyes darkening as the s****l reference to the janitor’s closet hit its target. She recovered quickly, a confident smirk spreading across her lips. “Duly noted, Copper. I’ll bring the tightest defense you’ve ever seen.”

Travis, who had been witnessing the entire charged exchange, cleared his throat loudly. “I think I’ll stay here. Remember last time I went to Big D’s? That dude was wearing a tutu and crying about the structural integrity of his fairy garden. It was weird and uncomfortable.”

Blake nodded, understanding his brother’s need for distance. “Stay here. Keep the chaos contained.”

He grabbed a thick, black pullover sweatshirt from his dresser. “Here. You don’t need to go back over there and run into Francis again.”

Liv took the sweatshirt. It was impossibly large on her small frame, but warm. As she pulled it over her head, her face was immediately enveloped by Blake's scent—the dominant, masculine blend of leather, cedar and mint body wash, and the warm, musky scent of his skin. The smell was clean, strong, and intoxicating, and Liv felt an immediate, involuntary heat flare deep in her core. She pushed down the surge of need, pulling the cuffs over her hands.

Blake watched the subtle change in her eyes, a flicker of vulnerability he instantly recognized.

“Shall we?” Blake asked, pulling his heavy jacket on.

Liv nodded, pushing the unwanted arousal aside. “Let’s go, Copper.”

They walked down the stairs and out the front door, leaving Travis alone in the quiet house. The run was necessary, but the proximity of the girl he desperately wanted—and the scent of his shirt clinging to her skin—made the entire trip feel reckless and profoundly dangerous.

Blake and Liv walked down the street, the snow falling lightly, maintaining their agreed-upon 'friendship' while walking hip-to-hip. The massive black sweatshirt he'd given her seemed to swallow her small frame, but the scent of him clinging to the fabric only intensified the intimacy.

Blake kept stealing glances at Liv—the way her dark hair framed her face, the quiet intensity in her eyes—all while trying to mentally rehearse how he would demand top-shelf sativa from Big D.

Then, Blake felt it: Liv’s small hand gently and slowly slid into his. She gently pushed her fingers in between his, her skin cold from the winter air, lacing their fingers together.

Blake inhaled sharply, the action so natural, so intimate, that it bypassed all his defenses. Though confused by the casual, intimate affection, he didn't pull away. He closed his large, strong hand over hers, lacing their fingers tightly and holding her secure.

They didn't say anything. The simple, non-verbal touch spoke volumes, acknowledging the undeniable connection that existed between them, regardless of their 'friendship' pact.

After a long while, they finally reached Big D’s house—a cheap, brightly painted house that was a beacon of questionable legality in the run-down street.

Blake knocked sharply on the door.

The door cracked open barely an inch, and a small, jumpy face peered out through the gap. He was pale, very thin, with wide, anxious blue eyes, and messy blonde hair that looked like he'd been tweaking for two days. He was 5’8” and impossibly light-framed.

“Who is it? What do you want?” the drug dealer asked, his voice high and paranoid.

Blake raised an eyebrow. “It’s me, D. Blake.”

The man blinked rapidly, then a switch flipped. A wide, manic grin spread across his face. He quickly slammed the door shut, and Liv heard the rhythmic clicking of multiple locks being disengaged. The door swung wide open, and D practically leaped out, his energy chaotic and overwhelming.

D rushed Blake, embracing him in a tight, awkward hug. “It’s been a while, B! You been working out? You seem bulkier!”

Blake let go of Liv’s hand to help steady D, who was already wobbling. D’s hands immediately rubbed Blake’s arms, then moved to his chest and stomach, confirming the muscle.

“I’m just here for some weed, D, not to get felt up,” Blake said, backing up with a tired smirk.

D giggled, completely unoffended. “Your shirt is so soft, B! I need to find that material!”

D finally noticed Liv, his manic gaze falling upon her striking, dark-haired figure in the oversized sweatshirt. His eyes narrowed with curiosity. “Who is this pretty little thing, B? She looks dangerous.”

Blake placed a protective hand lightly on the small of Liv’s back. “That’s my friend, Liv. Don’t worry, she’s cool.”

D smiled, about to rush her with a hug, when Blake intercepted him with a quick, firm move. “She’s not a hugger, D.” Blake couldn't resist the bait, flashing a smirk at Liv. “Unless you’re in a small closet space.”

D sensed the immediate, thick s****l tension between them, his eyes widening with delight. He giggled, covering his mouth with a shaky hand. “Oh, wow! You two either need to f**k, or you already did and need to do it again! It's so electric!”

Blake cleared his throat, pushing the heat down. “You got any weed, D? Sativa?”

D snapped back to business with a sharp, twitchy movement. “Yes! Of course, I have weed! What kind of drug dealer would I be if I didn’t have the basics? Come, come inside. I have a new strain, B, you are going to love it.”

Blake pulled his hand from Liv's back, nodded once to her, and followed D into the house, Liv trailing behind, her silent presence acting as a guard. Blake knew D was right. They had already crossed every line, and the only path forward was deeper into the disaster.

Blake followed D into the house, Liv trailing behind. D’s house looked cheap and derelict on the outside, but the interior was surprisingly clean and intensely organized—a weird counterpoint to D’s own frantic paranoia. It suggested a level of focused mental energy, albeit misplaced.

D led them past the kitchen and into a spacious living room. The room was dominated by a plush, oversized couch, where a girl was sitting.

She was young, with perfectly bleached blonde hair that fell in soft, voluminous waves, and huge, doll-like blue eyes that were currently wide and unfocused. She was beautiful, but her movements were exaggeratedly slow, and her high, airy voice was a dead giveaway that she was seriously high on something potent.

She saw Blake and her face lit up, a slow, gentle smile spreading across her features.

“Blakie! Long time no see, hunny!” she giggled, trying to wave him over. “How have you been?”

Blake offered her a genuine, easy chuckle—the kind he reserved for people he wasn't constantly plotting against. He walked over and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. “I’ve been good, Sally. How have you been? Big D treating you right?”

Sally giggled again, running her hand dreamily over the soft fabric of the couch. “Oh, more ways than one, Blakie. This is the best couch ever.”

D, twitching with pride, threw his arm around Blake. “Sally loves the house! We’re working on a new candle business—you should see her marketing ideas, B, they’re revolutionary!”

Blake gave Sally a final, easy smile, then steered D toward a back room. Liv followed, her expression unreadable, watching the strange interaction between the handsome, cynical hustler and the high, ethereal blonde.

Blake and D disappeared into the storage room, and Liv leaned against the living room doorway, waiting. Sally looked at Liv, then back at the ceiling, then back at Liv, her face a mask of high-grade confusion.