Sequel: Happily Ever After
Status: Complete

Even Lovers Drown

Chapter 56

Tentative, Saylor dragged her eyes from Sage's amused face. Absolute dread flooded her, what she might see in Blake's expression forcing her nerves into rampant panic. She expected shock. She expected pity. She expected anger. Explanations for the words passed between her and Sage flew through her mind. All painfully desperate but hopefully enough for Blake to understand now was not the time to discuss it. Later. They would talk about it later, when Saylor finally had the nerve to initiate the conversation.

But when her eyes landed on Blake, she didn't see shock or pity or anger.

Instead, content happiness shone in those beautiful blue depths and from her broad smile, bringing light to her gorgeous face. No hidden anger tensed her body, waiting for the moment to be released. Casual, she leaned against the bathroom doorframe, a towel draped over her lax shoulders in attempt to catch the water weighing down her mess of blonde curls.

Futile efforts. Despite the well-placed towel, water dribbled down the front of Blake's neck and slipped under the collar of her shirt, where Saylor could only imagine what delicious trails the tiny stream was making by the dark patches on her shirt. And she did imagine. She couldn't stop herself.

She didn't want to stop herself.

Even as stubborn heat seared her veins, she didn't stop the scene flourishing in her head. Tantalizing droplets of water dipping into Blake's cleavage and trickling over the curves of her breasts until fabric absorbed them. Her shirt tossed to a corner. To keep it from getting wetter. To dry it out. Her bra following close behind, just to be safe. Saylor's tongue dragging over smooth skin to gather each delicious drop.

Hadn't she been worried about something moments ago? She was sure she had been but, for the life of her, couldn't remember what that was.

"Perfect timing," Sage drawled, "I was about to tell Saylor you were a nerd in high school."

Saylor snapped her head to face Sage, pounding desire smothered under the newfound information. Blake, a nerd. That didn't sound like a remotely accurate description of the blonde womanizer. In fact, Saylor expected the opposite. Maybe a rebel. Maybe a dropout. Maybe a troublemaker. Not a nerd. Nerds weren't the front men of rock bands, lacking the charisma Blake exuded from her pores.

But Blake had her moments, the occasional awkward responses she couldn't control. The cause of lacking relationship experience or the remnants of who she used to be? Perhaps both.

Saylor threw the thought from her mind. Sage was joking, picking at Blake as she always did. There was no reason to read further into it than necessary. Hayden and Hunter accused her of murdering women, and she hadn't thought anything of the comments, hadn't even flinched at the idea Blake could hurt another woman. This was no different.

And then she looked at Blake.

Her blue eyes were wide, something more than shock floating in them, something that looked a lot like fear. The full lips Saylor adored kissing were parted. She no longer relaxed against the doorframe but stood ridged.

Sage wasn't joking.

"You were a nerd?" Saylor asked.

Blake snapped from her defied stupor at the sultry voice, eyes darting to her. That look was gone, the one that darkened Saylor's green eyes and burned Blake's skin. Because Sage had to open her fucking mouth. Saylor was the first good thing to happen to her since the formation of their band, and Sage ruined it.

"No," she answered, almost cringing at the desperation in her own voice.

"She was," Sage said.

That bitch.

"Shut up," Blake snapped at her. To Saylor, she muttered a hopeless "I wasn't."

The damage had been done. Saylor knew and there was nothing Blake could do to stop what would happen. She already knew what passive aggressive remarks would be made, had heard them so many times they seared into her memory. Her defenses flew up, preparing her for the rejection she was sure to face.

No one wanted the nerd.

No one ever wanted the nerd.

Everyone wanted the rock star. Confident, sexy, talented. The number of loose women who actually took the time to gaze at her bookshelf in the midst of quick fun were proof of that. They laughed. They made remarks. They stared at her as if she were her own doppelganger. They were just like her high school crush. Every single one of them.

If that look came from Saylor, she'd break.

"That's a shame," Saylor mumbled, casually leaning back on her hands. "I think nerds are kind of cute."

Blake's thoughts stumbled to a halt. Cute. Nerds were cute. Unblinking, she stared into emerald eyes, a search for hidden deceit. She found none.

"You think nerds are cute?"

She shrugged, nonchalant. "Intelligence is sexy."

Blake shifted from one foot to the other, rolling Saylor's words around in her head, analyzing her voice, still searching for something other than truth. Again, she found nothing. Nothing more than comfort at her intriguing interpretation of nerdy attractiveness.

Sighing, she shuffled across to the bed and sat, leaving a small distance between herself and Saylor. Her hands rested in her lap, her chin tilted down, and her eyes focused on her hands.

"Sage might be telling the truth," Blake mumbled.

"Might?"

"Is."

Anxious silence, then shuffling, the soft sound of a body shifting on the bed. Warmth rested against her side, breasts pressed to her arm, hips and thighs touching hers, naked toes tapping her foot. Saylor. Lovely, precious, gorgeous Saylor hadn't left.

Saylor's hand slipped into her lap and grabbed one of her fidgeting hands, lacing their fingers together. Soft lips pressed to her cheek, comforting flutter tickling her stomach. No words were said. None needed to be said. Blake understood the loving gestures. Saylor wasn't going to leave her side, wasn't going to end their unofficial relationship. Blake felt silly for thinking otherwise.

After all, the past was the past. It couldn't be changed. She needed to come to terms with who she was and move on. She wasn't a teenager anymore. She had friends, family, fans, Saylor, people who accepted her for who she was. The past wouldn't change that.

The hotel room door flew open, jolting the comfortable inhabitants, shattering the moment. Davy strutted into the room, clearly oblivious to what he disrupted. Or maybe he knew. The interruption seemed well-timed, as if he had been waiting, ear pressed to the door, for the moment to settle before he entered.

"I have arrived," he announced, stopping at the foot of Sage's bed. He glanced over the three, and, when no one retorted, a confused smile graced his lips. "Am I interrupting something?" His eyes brightened. "Are we filming lesbian porn?"

"How did you get in here?" Saylor asked.

How, indeed. Blake hadn't taken the opportunity to question how he managed to get into the room. The door had been closed, firmly shut to prevent intruders. And didn't she and Sage have the only two room keys? What did he do, pick the lock?

She wouldn't put it past him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic card, waving it in the air for emphasis. "I have your key."

"Shouldn't you have your key?" Blake whispered, voice dropping low enough to keep Davy from hearing.

"I didn't know I had a key," Saylor whispered in return.

Blake made a noise of acknowledgement, an indistinguishable hum in the back of her throat. She wasn't sure she was surprised Davy kept Saylor's room key. Stealing his sister's things, simply for the sake of doing it, seemed like something he would do. But she was afraid she would awake in the middle of the night to Davy standing over her with a creepy grin, simply because he could do it.

At least she'd be able to cling to Saylor in the height of her surprised terror.

Taking a deep breath, Blake slipped her hand from its intimate hold. "Guess that means his royal majesty is downstairs." She stood and slid her feet into her sandals. "Can't keep him waiting."

"Please do," Davy said and pounced onto Sage's bed, stretching out on his stomach. "I enjoy soothing his frustration."

Unfortunately for Davy, he handled Andy's frustration with gentle pats on the arm and soothing words. Sexual frustration wasn't part of Andy's daily struggles and, therefore, not part of Davy's self-imposed responsibilities, as much as he would enjoy taking care of that.

"Get off my bed," Sage snapped.

"Oh this is your bed? Guess I know where I'm going to masturbate to a picture of Andy. I'm not using a tissue."

"You're vile."

"And you should be going. Tah-tah."

Scowl twisting her features, Sage pushed herself from the bed and stomped from the room, a flurry of incoherent curses grumbled under her breath. Blake chuckled at their immature interaction. Quiet and under her breath in an attempt to avoid drawing Davy's attention to her. She didn't need his jokes to fill Saylor in on more of her miserable school experience. Sage had done quite enough.

"I'll pick you up later," Blake said, dropping a delicate kiss on Saylor's forehead.

"I'll be waiting," Saylor replied.

Blake stole one more kiss, a quick peck, before leaving to meet Sage, bidding Davy a quick farewell on her way out. As she expected, Sage stood idle in the hallway, waiting for her to arrive, eyes glued to a painting on the wall. Whatever thoughts that swam through her mind were disrupted by the heavy click made by the shutting door. Her eyes darted to Blake and a casual smirk spread on her lips. Blake nearly groaned, the sly expression an obvious sign she should be worried.

"I think she still likes you," Sage said, crossing her arms. "Go figure."

Anger bubbled in Blake's veins. She couldn't help being upset. Saylor may not have rejected her, but Sage had no right to throw out her life details. Those were for her to tell or not tell at her discretion.

"I can't believe you did that to me," Blake snapped.

"I did it for a reason."

"Yeah? And what was that? To embarrass me?"

"No. To get her to confide in you."

Confusion weighed on her anger. But Sage didn't elaborate on her statement, didn't assuage Blake's heightened irritation. She just stood there, arms crossed, lips pursed. Taking an even breath, Blake counted to ten, the numbers flowing through her mind in slow beats.

She would not yell at Sage. She would not yell at Sage. She would not yell at Sage.

When she was sure she could speak without raising her voice in frustration, Blake said, "What are you talking about?"

"I got her to talk to me, and I want her to be able to talk to you."

Such a calm, almost equally vague, statement, and Blake understood. This wouldn't be a topic of conversation if something important hadn't passed between them, information Blake wasn't privy too.

"She told you?"

Her heart seemed to twist and clench with her words. Saylor and Sage barely knew each other, and Saylor allowed her into the deep recesses of her brain where her memories plagued her. Why couldn't she let Blake in?

"Because I told her about my foster parents first. She wouldn't have told me anything otherwise," Sage said, "And she won't tell you anything until she can stop being afraid."

"Afraid of me? Why is she afraid of me?"

"She's afraid to lose you. You are so perfect to her, she can't help being afraid you'll judge her for what she's gone through."

Words escaped Blake's vocal cords, a proper response hidden under shock. Her anger dissipated, her confusion fled. Saylor thought she was perfect. So much so, she couldn't possibly understand a painful experience.

And Sage's course of action made sense. Expose Blake's faults to make her look less perfect. No, that wasn't right. Not less perfect. She was trying to make her look real. She was trying to help, utilizing the little bit she was willing to reveal.

The rest, the filling in of details, the tying together of each tidbit of information Saylor had received, was up to Blake.

"Thank you," she mumbled.

"No problem."
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Dakota Ray