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A/N: -1.25.08- I'm back! Whoo. We'll see where this story goes. And I've got to say-it's a miracle I didn't use any breaks and still wrote a thousand words. Hah.
Blake groaned, running his fingers through his hair. Jet-black and tousled, it had taken him a record fifty-two seconds to do. He had thought that his “mommy dearest” would’ve checked up on him (though she hadn’t…yet), so Blake had combed it several times before figuring out that bed head (in his case,) was permanent.
But “mommy dearest”? More like “mommy fiercest”. Megan Kale-Benton saw to it that there was something wrong with everything, just so that she could call someone out on it. If she wanted something, she demanded it and you’d comply with your life at risk. As for the cherry on top of it all, Megan wanted grandchildren. Now. Even though it was obvious that she wasn’t going to let old age approach her anytime soon. And Blake was the (only) one for the job. But for now, back to the task at hand.
“Next!” An extremely top heavy girl bounced into the room, showing off the fact that she knew how to accentuate her more prominent features, to put it lightly. She was wearing something that couldn’t be described as anything more than a piece of fabric. No more, probably less. Honestly, if you took a bandana and tossed it on her head, it would cover twice as much as whatever she was wearing now. Jacob, the only guy who could ignore girls clad in a one-by-one square of leather without being gay (or at least not that anyone knew of), not to mention the one with the honorable title of Blake’s best friend, quickly and painfully slammed Blake’s face into the couch and hollered an overly audible, “Next!” yet again.
At this rate, Blake would never find a girlfriend, let alone a potential bride. Sure, there were literal mobs of girls chasing after him, but the fame and fortune that came with being Blake, or one of Blake’s friends and family, was their true finish line-not love and definitely not children. At least he had taken his name out of the desperate ad as an afterthought. So what if basically all the girls who’d replied to the ad so far were hookers looking for another trick? Blake was bound to find someone soon. He was (honestly not) sure of it.
“Coast’s clear.” Blake slowly pulled himself up, wincing as he rubbed his nose. He turned to glare at Jacob as another candidate knocked at the door. Gritting his teeth, Blake snatched the clipboard and readied himself for more doodling. It wasn’t as if any of these girls were worth paying attention to, anyway. Jacob could just let him know if there was an actual, normal human being sitting across them. No problem. Blake started to sketch a football as the door closed and the clacks of heels filled the room.
“Name?” Chuckling at Jacob’s drill sergeant imitation, Blake added a goal post in the background.
“Amity, but I go by Blair-my middle name. So it’s Amity Blair Callay-yeah, ABC, I know.” As Blair giggled despite her obvious dislike of the relation, Blake quickly glanced up as he shaded a helmet. He remembered knowing someone named Amity. He smiled, remembering the girl who got him through high school. Amity Ryder had been there for him, through and through; and admittedly, he had fallen for her. Blake had just never gotten a chance to tell her-you remember the whole “swarms of girls” deal, don’t you? Yeah, yeah, so cliché, he had heard Jacob repeat time and time again. But, he thought as he flushed pink, Blair is definitely worth looking at. Blake quickly averted his eyes, trying his best to not think about Blair’s giggle and Amity in general, and more about the pointed finger he was drawing for the referee.
“Age?” Jacob actually sounded nervous. That’s not something you hear everyday. Sure, Blair was someone to haunt your thoughts, but Jacob has always been confident around a girl since the summer before junior year of college-known to him as the worst day of his life. But to a certain Holly Martin, it was known as “the-day-a-guy-I-was-cheating-on-my-boyfriend-proposed-and-got-pummeled-by-the-aforementioned-boyfriend”. The only nightmares Jacob ever had were of that day and after that, he never thought anything could scare him half as bad.
“Twenty-three. Twenty-four next month. Fresh out of college.” Jacob nudged Blake, winking, as if to say: “She’s actually of legal age and may or may not have a brain to match!” Blake sighed, whipping his pen across the paper in an attempt to draw grass. Someone wasn’t tense anymore.
“Occupation?”
“That’s an awfully big word for you,” Blake muttered, hoping to sound witty. As he had hoped, Blair giggled and Blake felt a grin creep onto his face. Huh-how’d that get there? Slowly, he looked up-and straight into a pair of blue eyes. Eyes that glittered with so much. So little. Eyes that sparkled, daunting him, teasing him…wanting him. He’d seen those eyes before.
And suddenly, everything snapped. Blake dropped the pen, letting it fall onto the wooden floor. The two slowly stood up, in perfect synchronization. Except for, that is, the smile on Blair’s face. Blake developed a serious case of elevator eyes. He looked Blair up and down, from her red strappy heels to the denim miniskirt; from the red half-sleeved top to the eccentrically feathered “double” headband drawing the eyes to her wavy tied-to-the-side ponytail. Looking past the bangs, and straight into her eyes, he saw her. It wasn’t the girl he once knew, in fact, far from it. But it all fit like pieces of a puzzle-at first, it seems like none of the pieces even come from the same puzzle, but in the end, they all fit perfectly.
“Ryder? Is that really you?” Her eyes lit up.
“I can’t tell you just how long I’ve been waiting to hear that, Benton.”
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