This is the revised version of the original chapter 3.
Even if you have already read the original chapter, I would love to know your opinions on this version.

(for those who commented on the original: don't worry, I didn't delete the chapter, it's just not public anymore)

Please don't forget to vote and comment :)

- I'm so broke. – Blake lamented, looking at the picture on his phone.

- Are you looking at that bicycle again?

His gaze shifted to May, - It's not a bicycle. It's a motorcycle.

- Maybe if it was a bicycle you would have the money for it.

Blake swung his body on the bed, sitting up so he could look at his Finn and May, who sat on Finn's bed, across from each other.

- Finn, your best friend is bullying your brother.

- I'm not bullying you, - May said, - I'm just right.

With a click of the tongue, Blake stretched his arms and let his body fall back onto the bed. He stared at the cracked ceiling. From the other side of the paper-thin walls, he could hear the neighbour playing violent video games as usual.

- I need a job, - he sighed.

- I saw a clothing store near the campus that needs staff, – Finn talked without taking his eyes off the huge textbook in front of him.

Blake sat so fast everything was out of focus for a moment.

- I could apply!

May raised an eyebrow to him, - You can't work at a clothing store.

- Why not?

- You're way too upfront for that.

- What does that have to do with anything?

She rolled her eyes as a response, then glancing at Finn, who finally put down the book to look at them.

- She has a point, - Finn said.

- What does honesty have to do with working at a clothing store?

Blake watched as they exchanged a look.

- Do you remember last month when I asked you if my new, amazing dress looked bad on me? – May recalled. – You didn't even pretend to think before you said it did.

He shrugged, - It did.

May smiled and Blake knew he had just lost that argument.

Yet, May continued, - Besides, working in retail takes a lot of time. By the time you would be free, the library would be closed.

That was all that was needed to crush every intention he had of working at that store. He could almost see the bike of his dreams dissipate from the screen. As much as he dreamed about it, he couldn't afford to disrupt his studies.

He had always known he wasn't the smartest person out there and it wasn't something that bothered him. Ever since his first day in first grade, he struggled. He had been the last in his class to learn the alphabet and he was yet to fully master divisions, unlike the brain that was his brother.

Although he and Finn looked alike, their intellect levels were worlds apart.

His older brother had always been at the top of his class, honoured regularly by teachers and the number of prizes he had won along his academic life was more than impressive. And Blake was extremely proud of a Finn, especially when he was granted a scholarship in Computer Engineering.

Even if lacking in the intelligence department, Blake had never once been held back a year, had never quit on a subject and, after weeks of barely sleeping or seeing the sun, he had been accepted for the Psychology degree at the same university.

He wasn't that smart, that was a fact. But he had his effort, and he couldn't put it on the line for a new bike.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he threw his hands in the air.

- Where am I going to find a job? – he called to the sky.

From the other side of the wall it peered the muffled sound of a videogame-addicted guy yelling "You won't!" intruded into the room.

- Oh! – Blake screamed back. – Just shut up!

- Alright everybody, – the teacher said, – it's all for today. Have a good weekend.

Permission given, all the students started to pack their things and getting up. Blake was about to leave his desk when someone grabbed his harm.

- Blake, buddy, my man, - Mark sent him a smile, - let me copy your homework for the next class, will you?

Blake looked down at Mark, still sat at the desk.

Mark was one of those types of students that no one understood how they had been accepted into university unless they knew who his family and how much money they had.

Blake slapped Mark's peck with the back of his hand, - You could have done it during this class, but you just slept. You don't even try, do you?

- I was really tired. – he whined. Leaning more towards Blake, he smiled knowingly. – I met this girl, you see? And...

Blake stopped him, raising a hand, - If you spare me the details, you can copy the homework.

- You're the best, buddy!

Blake put his bag back on the table, taking the notebook out.

- Just hurry up, - he said as he opened the notebook on the right page. – If we're late, the professor will give us his death stare.

- His stare is way to convincing, -Mark took the notebook. - Has anyone checked that guy's pulse? It wouldn't surprise me if he was a vampire or some shit.

- Statistics applied to psychology would be a good class for a vampire to teach, - he agreed. – To watch the life being sucked out of us.

- Blake. – a female voice called.

Blake looked at the front of the class, where the teacher, Miss Pam, stood behind her desk.

– Can I talk to you for a moment? – she asked.

What did I do?

It was still the first week of the scholar year, the university's activities were yet to be published, and they hadn't been evaluated yet, so... what could this be about?

- Shoot, dude. You're lucky. – Mark whispered, – Miss twelve out of ten wants to talk to you alone. If I could I would give her more than a wor... ouch!

- Sure Miss, – Blake responded to the teacher, ignoring the whining caused by his kick to Mark's heel.

Leaving his stuff on the desk, he approached the desk at the front of the room. Miss Pam was what most people could only dream about. Besides being a renowned psychologist at such a young age, her looks were striking. With long light brown hair, blue eyes and delicate features she could make any model jealous.

Since the first class they had had with her, the previous year, this particular teacher had the biggest attendance rate by male students in the whole course.

Standing in front of the desk, Blake smiled, mind racing in search of what that could be about, - Yes miss?

- You don't need to worry Blake, - she smiled back, - you're not in trouble.

A huge wave of relief swept over him, letting go of a breath, - Good, I was freaking out.

She gave a breathy laugh, looking at something behind the desk- I have an opportunity for you. – she said, opening one of the desk's drawer and taking out a white piece of paper.

Blake's brows drew together, - An opportunity?

She nodded, picking up a pen and began writing something on the paper.

- I have a client that enrolled in this university, but he needs someone to accompany him and teach him how this world works, – she looked up at him. – They have to interview you and if you're accepted, it will take up a lot of your spare time, but the payment is good.

She talked more. She said more things that were probably important but Blake didn't hear anything more, as his mind raced, trying to catch up. A job? For him? With a client? What?

Miss Pam was well-known enough to only have wealthy and important clients, with pretty hard cases, and she was asking him to work for one of them... as a babysitter?

- Blake, are you hearing me?

Blinking back to reality, Blake looked at her, scratching the back of his head.

- I wasn't, sorry, – he said. – But I don't understand why you would think I'm the right person for a job like this.

Miss Pam raised her eyebrows.

- We see potential in you.

- We, – he repeated. – Who are 'we'?

- Me and the mother of my client. – she explained, writing something else down. – She approached me with the idea and I thought you would be the right person for the job, - she extended the piece of paper. -I have another class in a few minutes, so I need to go.

With nothing in his mind apart from a colossal question mark, Blake took the paper.

She smiled, - His mother wants to meet with you tomorrow. You have all the information you need on that paper, - Miss Pam grabbed her bag. - It's a great opportunity. Think about it.

And, like that, she left the room, leaving Blake standing there, with a piece of paper in his hand, staring at the door and asking himself what the hell had just happened.

- Dude! – Mark came from behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. – You're on fire! What are you going to do?

Still in a daze, Blake looked at the paper where it was scribbled information like the address, hour. And the payment.

His eyes widened looking at the number. He turned to Mark, mouth hanging open, - I guess I'm going to an interview tomorrow.

Blake stood in front of a big gate, checking the address time and time again.

- Yep... It's here, – he concluded for the fourth time.

For five minutes now, he had been standing on the sidewalk, staring at the enormous house in front of him.

He had never considered himself a nervous person, but that situation was a clear exception. The previous day, as soon as he had gotten to his dorm and shared the news with Finn, he had been as shocked at Blake. Even so, both agreed it was too good of an opportunity - and salary - to refuse. So, there he was.

Taking a deep breath, he rang the bell. A male voice sounded from the intercom.

- May I help you, sir?

Only when being called "sir" did Blake notice the camera on the side of the gate, pointing in his direction. He smiled at the camera, to whoever was on the other side.

- Hi, I'm Blake, - he greeted. - I'm here because---

- Ah, yes, Sir Blake. – the voice interrupted. From the sound, the man seemed to be smiling. – The Madam is waiting for you. Please come in.

After a small click, the door enclosed on one of the sides of the gate opened. Blake smiled at the camera, waiving.

- Thanks!

Entering the propriety, he followed the path through the wide, perfectly kept, garden to the front door, where a well-dressed man with whitening hair awaited him.

- Good morning, Mister Blake. – he greeted giving him a white smile.

- Hi, – he greeted back, grimacing with a smile. – 'Blake''s fine.

The man looked amused by the request, - Forgive me, Mister Blake, but I don't think I can do that.

Blake shrugged, - To each their own.

The man stepped aside and invited him inside with a cordial gesture.

- Madame is awaiting you in the living room.

As soon as Blake stepped into the house, the rich ambient knocked the wind out of him. Two sets of stairs lined with intricate metal handrails framed the open entrance for what appeared to be the living room. He looked up, expecting some type of chandelier only to see a stained-glass dome bathing the place with sun-light.

The entrance hall alone should be as big as his mother's restaurant.

- This way, sir. – the man said.

Blake followed him, being led to a spacious living room decorated in white with cream accents and a subtle pop of colour here and there, as in the paintings on the walls. But Blake didn't have time to analyse the room, as he spotted a charming woman seated on one of the sofas which he assumed to be the aforementioned 'Madame'.

As a matter of fact, the title served her well. Although she should be around his mother's age, she appeared younger, with her shiny brown hair, slim figure and, above all, a pair of striking hazel-green eyes.

The woman shifted her attention to them and a pleasant smile took her lips. Would everyone in that house have perfect teeth?

- Madame, this is Mister Blake. – the servant introduced with a small reverence. – Mister Blake, Madame Elizabeth Metharom.

- No need to stand. – Blake said when he noticed she was about to stand to greet him. Walking past the man he smiled and reached out. – It's nice meeting you, Ma'am. Thanks for the invite.

The 'Madame' exchanged an amused look with the servant before looking up at him and shaking his hand.

- It's a pleasure for meet you as well, - she said. - Thank you for taking time off your Saturday to come. – she gestured to the armchair on the other side of the marble coffee table. – Please, sit.

He obeyed, taking off his backpack, placing it on the floor.

- Allow me. – the servant said as he picked up the bag. – I'll save it for you, Sir.

With that, the man left the room.

- I hope it wasn't hard to find the house. – the woman said.

- It actually was. – he replied with a smile. – For some reason, there aren't many bus stops around here.

She raised her perfect eyebrows, -I guess that's true. Allow me to apologize for the inconvenience.

- Oh, no, – he shook his head. – Don't apologize. I don't mind walking.

Once again, she smiled.

- Well then, should we start?

- Sure, – he adjusted himself on the chair, straightening his back.

- First of all, Blake, I have to ask you what Miss Pam has already told you about my son.

- Not much, to be honest. Only that he needs someone to accompany him on campus.

She hummed, turning to the teapot and teacups placed on a tray on the table.

- Let me, – Blake said, getting up to pour the tea.

She hesitated for a moment but ended up allowing him to do it, - Thank you.

- No big deal, - he replied. – I work at my mom's restaurant all the time, kind of got used to it.

- I'm sure your mother is very thankful for your help.

- I mostly drop things, - he joked, - but the work gets done, I guess.

She tried to press down a humoured smile, - I see, - she said. - About my son, - she continued. – I'm afraid it's more complicated than what Miss Pam told you.

- Really? – he asked, opening the sugar container. – How many?

- Two, please.

Two sugar cubes later, he offered the cup.

- Thank you. – she said, grabbing the teacup.

When Blake was back in his seat, she continued, - Do you happen to know what haphephobia is, Blake?

He shook his head.

- Never heard of it.

- Most people haven't, – she sipped the tea. – To put it simply, it's the phobia of touch.

Blake raised his eyebrows, - Wow.

- Yes, – she agreed. – It's very rare, but it happens. Unfortunately, my son also suffers from PTSD.

- Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

She gave a nod, - Exactly.

- Why?

His question was met with a weak smile.

- I'm sorry but I promised my son I wouldn't talk about it.

Blake raised his hands, - No problem, - he said. – A promise is a promise.

- That's very mature of you. – she put the tea-cup down on the saucer. – Most people would be extremely curious.

- Oh, and I am, – he shrugged. – But that's my problem.

Her smile widened, - I seem like a good person, Blake. – she praised. – If you were to have the job, you would have to accompany Dean at the university whenever the two of you don't have class. He can't be touched or see violence at the risk of panicking, or worse. If that happens for any reason, I trust you to take him away from the situation.

As she talked about his responsibilities, he felt his stomach grow heavier with worry. Taking a deep breath, he assured himself.

I can do this.

- I'm ready to try my best, - he said.

- Dean will be the one deciding if you get the job. – she informed him, meeting his eyes. – But, before you meet him, let me ask one more question.

- Sure.

She paused for a few seconds. The way she was looking at him made him feel like he was about to confront the Boss in a video-game.

- If my son tells you something, - she began, - and tells you not to tell me, what will you do?

Blake could see the job opportunity vanishing into thin air. For a moment he looked down, accepting his broke fate.

- I'm sorry Mrs, - he lifted his gaze, - but I wouldn't tell you.

Seconds of silence ticked by. Blake couldn't say he wasn't sad about losing that opportunity, but he would get over it.

The woman stood up as Blake watched her.

- Well, Blake... - she began. He took the liberty to stand up as well, ready to leave. But then, she smiled, - Shall I introduce you to my son?

Blake's chin almost hit the floor.

Wait...What?

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