Chapter Three

I didn't want to see Blake. I didn't even want to hear his damn name! But if I wanted to keep my rep intact... I groaned miserably and forced myself to walk onto the sidewalk in front of the old brick building known as Jensen High School. I really wasn't looking forward to this. I just wanted to crawl under a rock and sleep all day.

I headed around to the back, around the area where all those stoners hung out. I didn't want to be caught dead there. It'd get people suspicious and not to mention, if the coach of our basketball team found out that I was around thse people, he'd also get the wrong idea....

I spotted Blake Patterson sitting on a railing, away from the rest of the stoners, who were just smoking and laughing amongst each other. Wow, I realized, trying not to laugh. Even those disgusting social losers didn't want to be around Blake. I was comforted by that thought as I walked up to him. He wasn't smoking, though. In fact, he was typing on an expensive looking laptop before slamming it shut.

"You actually made it," Blake mused, dusting off his laptop before shoving it into his bag and hopping off the railing, "I figured you'd chicken out. I was even working on the email to send out..." I twitched, growing stiff with anger. This guy was such a jerk! No wonder he didn't have any friends!

"So, enough teasing," Blake drawled, folding his arms over his chest after throwing his bag on his shoulder, "Time to get down to business. For now, just act like you normally do."

"Oh, yea? How's that?"

"A cocky douche bag."

"Listen you-"

"Go on, get the gossip on your friends. After your basketball practice, I'll be waiting to pick you up. Be sure to tell me everything you learned today.... Oh, and I still want to know more about you too." Blake added, but quietly. I frowned in annoyance, folding my arms over my chest.

"You probably already know all about me, right, you creep? You said it yourself, you know who is who in the school."

"Yea, when it comes to school, but I don't follow people home and get into their personal lives."

"You know, you're a creep. Like, for real."

"Like, OMG, my bad," Blake mocked, rolling his eyes as I scowled, "Just get a move on. I don't wanna be seen with you." I dropped my arms to my sides, fists clenching before I whirled around and stormed off. I swear to God, that guy was the biggest douche on the planet!

The rest of the day was torture. At school with a hangover, Blake Patterson mega creeping, people being obnoxious. I hated high school sometimes. I was so glad when basketball practice came around. I needed a nice long break from all the hell. Sure, it didn't help my headache when I ran around the gymnasium, dribbling the ball and listening to the coach bark out my name every so often between blowing his whistle.

"Well, shit," Devin panted at my side, jogging beside me as we were forced to run laps, "This is the worst practice ever. Coach is acting like an ultra jerk." I smirked, ignoring the sweat that ran down my face.

"I don't care. I need this kind of crap right now."

"Yea?"

"Got a lot of shit on my mind."

"Oh? Looks like your stalker only has one thing on his mind, and that's you."

"What're you talking about?"

"Dude. Over by the doors." Devin grunted, his lips tipping into an irritated frown. I followed his eyes and found Blake leaning against the doorframe of the gymnasium doors, his blue-green eyes staring at me intently. I felt stunned. The look on his face was intense, especially his eyes. They just stared at me, hardly blinking.

Suddenly, I felt stranger. Like he was mentally touching me or something! I could just feel his hands on me as he stared at me. His hot breath on my throat, his lips against mine-

WHOA.

"Yo!" Devin exclaimed as I lost my footing and hit the gym floor, my knees skidding along with my wrist. I cursed loudly so it echoed through the gym and I curled up, holding my arm against me and bringing my knees up. I could feel them burn angrily before growing numb as the other players crowded around, the coach shoving past them to get to me.

Pain radiated into my head, giving me an even bigger headache. I just groaned as the coach forced me to roll over on my back.

"Damn it, Carter," He muttered, taking my arm in his hands to study the torn away skin, "To the office and have the nurse patch you up. You're done for today."

"Aw, come on... It's just a scratch..." But even as I said it, I could just feel the tears in my eyes ready to well up, so I just turned my face away before forcing myself up onto my feet, keeping my head down as coach shoved the other boys away, barking at them to get back to work. I limped toward the doors, frowning when I saw that Blake had completely vanished.

Or so I thought. I stepped out of the gymnasium, limping along when I came to the stairs that led up to the office. I groaned. So what if it was only five or six steps? This was gonna hurt. I grabbed the railing and heaved myself up the steps, but by the time my feet touched the top, my knees were buckling and I was falling backwards.

A gasp left my lips as I tumbled backwards, wincing as I readied for the painful impact on my skull, but it never came. Instead, I felt into a familiar pair of muscular arms. I blinked and tipped my head back to look up into Blake's smirking face.

"Hello, damsel in distress." He greeted. I glared daggers at him.

"Screw you! Let me go!"

"What's with you brats, hmm? I just saved you from having the rest of your brains knocked out." Blake responded dully, then helped push me back up the stairs so I was standing on wobbly legs a couple feet from the office. I still wasn't grateful, if that was what he was asking. I didn't even want to see his face! I just huffed and started for the office, but Blake caught my elbow and reeled me back easily.

"Hold on, cowboy," He said smoothly, making me scowl, "Don't have a temper tantrum. I'll wait out in the parking lot, but hurry up. I wanna get home."

"Why're you in such a hurry?" I demanded. Blake's eyes flickered and for a split second, I saw something in those cold eyes of his, but as soon as it was there, it was gone. I frowned and Blake just let go of me, stepping back.

"Just hurry up."

"Yes, ma'am." I muttered sarcastically, making Blake cock a brow before his face became a blank slate as I turned and went into the office. The nurse rushed me into her room where I was forced to sit on a bed and get checked up. It's too bad the nurse was an old hag and not a cute girl. It didn't help when she started to spray the disinfectant on my bloody wounds. I just sat there and hissed past clenched teeth as she cleaned them up and placed a large band aid over both my kneecaps before wrapping a thin layer of gauze around my wrist.

"There ya go, honey," The chubby old nurse smiled, patting my head, "You're good as new! Say, was that Blake Patterson you were with out there?" I stared at her in disbelief. Was she nuts? So what if it was? I wasn't going to admit that!

"Uh, nooo?" I drawled, sliding off the bed. The old woman smiled.

"I see.... He's a good boy, you know?" She said as she packed up her medical kit. I tried not to gag and laugh at the same time at what she said. Oh yea! That was hilarious! Blake Patterson? A 'good boy'?! Sure, because blackmailing and spreading rumors was sooo angelic!

"Er... Okay." I muttered. She sighed, though, which sort of caught my attention. She brushed off her white uniform and shook her head.

"Poor boy, though. He's gone through so much, and he's so young."

"He looks like he's twenty." I blurted. She smiled.

"He is."

"You're joking."

"Well, almost. If he doesn't pass this year, they're going to boot him out... It's too bad. Blake really is a sweet boy, a little rough around the edges, but he's got a good heart."

"Yea, sure. All righty. Well, thanks for the band aids and whatever."

"Sure thing, Dannykins." Whoa, she was a freak. I shuddered and walked out of the office, heading to my locker and grabbing my stuff. I slung my bag over my shoulder and was very reluctant to walk out to the student parking. I was afraid of what kind of vehicle Blake drove, and even worse, what kind of driver he was!

My life was so miserable sometimes. I sighed and forced myself to walk out into the parking lot to see Blake parking a dark blue 1970 Chevy Impala up near the curb, a few feet away from me. My jaw dropped as my eyes flew over the beautiful car.

"Holy shit... She's beautiful! Where the hell did you get money to afford a her?!" I gasped, carefully approaching the passenger's side. I seriously wanted to touch the beauty, just to feel the sleek paint job, but I was afraid of getting fingerprints on her. Blake just smirked, peering out the window at me.

"My uncle's a collector. After you wipe off that drool, you can get in and we can go." He stated. My hand swept over my mouth without me really thinking before I cautiously opened the car door and slid inside. The black leather seats were warm and smooth. I sighed blissfully after buckling myself in, letting my head relax against the seat as Blake started her up and screeched out of the parking lot.

"You must be loaded," I exclaimed after a while, sitting up to exam the inside of the car, "These babies usually cost twenty-five grand!" Blake shrugged as he drove, eyes watching the road closely.

"Not me, my uncle."

"Dude, is your uncle Jesus or something?"

"Nah. He's actually a mechanic in the next city over."

"Well, damn!" I whistled after a while, smiling at the inside of the car. I had always wanted a car this beautiful. I was in love with classics, but I couldn't afford even a junky station wagon. Nor did my mom want to get me a nice pretty car, noooo! She wanted me to get this ugly gray Toyota that had been sitting by the lake on the other side of town. It was a load of bullshit if you ask me.

"So, I told you a little about me. Time for you to open up about yourself first, friends later." Blake said after a while, a smile working its way onto his face. I glared at him. And he was back to being his usual douche bag self. Great.

"Ain't nothin' to tell about me. I'm just a normal person. You're the one I'm wondering about. All I know is that you're a huge creep, your uncle's a mechanic, and oh yea. You're a douche." I snapped. Blake smirked.

"Fine, fine. We'll play it your way. Ask me anything you want." He responded. I frowned a little, studying his relaxed, smirking expression. Was he teasing me or something? What a jerk, but I did have more than one thing to ask him.

Why was he a jerk? Did his brother really hate his guts? Was he really getting kicked out this year if he didn't graduate? Did his uncle seriously molest him? Where in God's name did he find this beautiful car? Was he gay?

I couldn't pick one. I sat there, fumbling over a question to ask him, watching him just sit there and smirk as he drove toward the east suburbs. It was just a small residential area with a handful of fancy, rich looking houses with pools, trampolines. Any American family's true dream. I had always wanted to live in a two-story rich house. I just got the next best thing. An old Victorian house just a couple blocks from school, across the street from our town's mini-plaza.

"If you don't ask me, I'm going to ask you." Blake stated after a while.

"Why are you a jerk?" I blurted. Blake smirked as he drove into the driveway of a nice blue house that looked like it was home to Barbie and Ken. He parked it, but he kept the doors locked, watching me as I glared at him.

"Because that's just the way I am, squirt."

"Is it because your brother hates you or something or because you're too stupid to graduate?" I demanded in annoyance. Blake lifted a brow, resting his elbow on the steering wheel as he studied my face.

"Ahh. That rumor. The first one's true, the second one isn't."

"Could you be anymore vague?"

"My brother is just like that. I can't explain it. As for the second one, I don't graduate because it's my job to torment guys like you." Blake explained with a crooked smirk. I was surprised to feel my cheeks grow hot as I glared at him.

"So it's gotta be that your uncle supposedly molested you, right?" I asked sarcastically, rolling my eyes. Much to my surprise, Blake's eyes seemed to grow hard and cold, his expression flat.

"My uncle did what?" He asked after a while. I was getting uncomfortable now. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. I mean, that was kind of harsh. Even I wouldn't want people asking me that kind of shit. It was awkward and probably really degrading to think about, right? And it's not like it was any of my business. I mean, sure he told me to ask him anything, but that was where people usually drew the line.

"Uh, sorry," I said at last, grimacing a little as I scooted against the door, avoiding that intense look in his eyes, "I... Uh, heard it from someone and stuff. I mean, we don't gotta talk about it if you don't wanna." Blake's expression seemed to slowly soften, surprisingly. In seconds, his smirk was back and he was leaning against the door.

"Ohh. Figures. Man, you are so gullible!"

"What?!" I demanded angrily. He sure knew how to hit my buttons! I was totally trying to be nice for once, but he had to go and ruin it. And he wondered why I was a jerk.

"That's just a rumor," Blake replied with a chuckle as he took the keys and shoved them in his pocket, "My uncle's never home. I hardly see him, so even if he did want to molest me, he'd never have the chance." I frowned for a moment, then got out of the car after Blake, who slammed the car door shut and stretched before heading up to the house. I followed behind him, rolling my eyes.

Why was I doing this? Couldn't I just tell the cops he was blackmailing me? I mean, two could play at that game, right? Ugh, nooo. This guy does it for a living. He probably had some secret membership to some creepy stalker club online.

All my angry thoughts vanished, though, as soon as we stepped inside. My jaw dropped at the sight of the inside of the house. The main entrance had two hallways going off to the sides and a curled staircase that led upstairs. The floors were wooden and the walls were designed with sleek white paint with blue wallpapering cutting through the middle.

"Nice place." I managed. Blake just shrugged and slipped off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly onto a nearby coat rack as he gestured for me to follow him down the hallway to the right. I was led past a very sparkly clean bathroom, matching laundry room, and into a large, blue designed kitchen with an island counter at the center.

"Let's continue our discussion over dinner. You okay with chicken stir fry?" He asked as he walked over to the fridge. I plopped down in a sleek black stool at the island counter, watching him with a cocked brow.

"Dude, you cook?"

"No shit. What? Does your mommy make all your food?"

"No!" Yes. Now that I thought about it, it was a little shameful. My mom always made my meals, packed my lunch, did this and did that. Maybe I was a little spoiled...

"So, is all that crap what you wanted to know? Or do you have more stupid questions about rumors that your friend Emily makes up?" Blake asked as he got out all the ingredients. I glared at him, folding my arms and resting them on the counter.

"Shut up. Emily's my friend. She wouldn't say that bullshit.... So, are you really getting kicked out this year?" I asked, trying to avoid an argument. The angrier I got, the more of a headache I got, and the more like crap I felt. Blake rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, rubbing his hands together before picking up a couple vegetables and a knife.

Yikes.

"Yea, probably, but I couldn't care less."

"What the fuck is that? You know, you'll end up some hobo if you don't graduate."

"Nah, I'd join the family business."

"Fixing cars? Do you even know how?"

"I'm as good as fixing cars as you are playing basketball." He answered. I blinked, lifting a brow in surprise as I leaned back in the stool.

"Was that a compliment?" I asked. Blake said nothing in return. I rolled my eyes and leaned over the counter again. He was such a weird guy. He could cook, he could fix cars, and he could blackmail. If he tells me he knows karate, I'm going to slam my head through a wall.

"Do you know karate?" I asked. Blake chuckled, shaking his head as he chopped up a couple vegetables, the sound of the knife against the board making me shiver a little. That could've been me, I kept thinking.

"Nah. Fighting isn't my thing." He answered. I sighed with relief. Good, no more headaches.

"My turn," Blake said, "How's your relationship with your brother, Devin?" I blinked, confused for a moment. I didn't quite know how to answer that. Devin was basically my other half. We've been through a lot together and he was always there to bring me out of my slumps.

"He's my brother, man. He's more important than basketball to me."

"That's deep," Blake smirked, "Don't you ever get a little jealous or something? No sibling rivalry?"

"What? No way. Devin and I are like this," I twisted my fingers together, "We hardly argue and when we do, it doesn't last that long. What about you and your brother? I don't get why you guys don't get along."

"You don't know my brother." Blake answered as he dropped the vegetables into a pan before he started chopping up the chicken. I tried not to jump every time his knife hit the cutting board.

"Well, he lives here, right? Let me meet him-"

"No!" This time, I really did jump. I almost fell out of my stool, but caught myself to stare at Blake in disbelief. I think that was the first time I had heard him lose his cool. Blake stopped cutting to stare out the window in front of him before he shrugged, swiftly going back to 'I'm a cool jerk' mode.

"No. Believe me, you don't want to meet him."

"He can't be that bad. Jeez, man. Talk about breaking your character."

"I just don't like him."

"It sounds like you hate him."

"So what about your parents? Good relationship with them?" Blake asked, ignoring my statement, which made me frown deeply. Judging by the way he was acting, he really did hate his brother. I hated to admit it, but I was curious. I mean, I didn't like Blake either. Maybe this guy and I would get along.

"Perfectly fine." I answered.

"You a mama's boy?" Blake asked as he scraped the chicken into the pan and turned the stove on. He grabbed a wooden spoon and began to push the food around. I glared at him.

"So what if I am?" I demanded heatedly. Blake laughed.

"Nothin'. I just guessed."

"What about your parents?" Whoops. That was low. Blake kept stirring, though, with a careless expression on his face, the corner of his lips tilted up in a half, faint smile. I swear, it was almost hard to tell what he was thinking sometimes. Most people would get all stiff and nervous if you mentioned their parents. I had always figured Blake's parents were dead...

"They got rid of me." Blake replied smoothly. I blinked.

"Huh? You mean, they're not dead?"

"Nah. My parents live somewhere in Chicago."

"Why the hell do you live with your uncle then?" I asked. I felt nosy, but hey! He said I could ask him anything. Besides, it didn't seem like he was