All Just Pretend

“GOAL!” the voice on the screen screamed out. Blake laughed as Tommy groaned, throwing his controller on the floor.

“You suck at this game,” she commented lazily as she flicked her lighter to light her bowl. “Like, really, really suck. Which is funny, because you play Nicholls all the time, and he’s terrible.”

Tom rolled his eyes and watched as Blake took a hit and then swiped the bowl from her hands, pulling his own lighter out of his pocket. She protested, but it was their second bowl and so her attempts to try and steal it back were weak.

“Fuck you,” she laughed, giving up and falling back into the couch.

The pair had done nothing for the past few days but go to work when they had to and then hang around the house. Their nothing consisted of sufficiently breaking in Blake’s new bowl, playing video games, sketching designs, and eating too much take-out.

The Sunday after all the guys had left was no different. There was no work though, so after the pair had rolled out of bed around noon, they had planted themselves on the couch with the bowl, some games, and a take-out menu for later.

“I feel like I’m supposed to do something,” Blake spoke slowly, mentally going through her brain in search of the something she was supposed to be doing.

Tommy quirked an eyebrow at her before he took another hit and passed the bowl back to her. “‘m I supposed ta know wha’ tha’ somefhin’ is, love?”

She laughed. “No, smart ass. I just... wish I could remember.” She trailed off in a fit of giggles. Her phone laying on the coffee table started to light up and buzz around, so she reached for it and peered at the name that lit up across the screen. Ashley. “Fuck!” she exclaimed, answering it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Blake apologized profusely before her friend could get a word in edgewise.

On the other end of the line, Ashley rolled her eyes. “Oh shut up, Blake. Just tell me where you are and I’ll pick you up.”

Blake bit her lip and peered at Tom who was looking at her with curiosity in his bloodshot eyes. “I’m at the flat with Tom.”

Ashley was silent for several minutes as she let this sink in. “You’re fucking high!” she finally burst out in anger. “Dammit, Blake! We were supposed to go shopping today! I haven’t seen you in three days because you’ve been too busy with Tom...” Ashley kept ranting, pissed at her friend for forgetting their date, but Blake zoned in and out. She knew she just had to let Ashley vent for a few minutes and then everything would be fine.

Finally Ashley sighed. “Fine. I’ll give you an hour to sober up, I’ll come get you, and we’ll get food.”

Blake agreed and then they hung up. She fell back into the couch and sighed. “I forgot I was supposed to go out with Ashley today.”

“Bring meh!” Tommy exclaimed like a little kid, making Blake laugh more.

“You want to go shopping with us?” she asked him, quirking an eyebrow.

He nodded. “Everyone else is busy! I don’ wan’ ta be alone.” Tom gave her puppy-dog eyes, his ice blue orbs wide to try and sway her.

It worked. She rolled her eyes. “Sober up and get ready. She’ll be here in an hour.”

***

Ashley was surprisingly okay with Tom tagging along--“Makes me think of Matty,” she shrugged easily when Blake had asked--and Blake knew why. Ashley missed her boyfriend, and having Tom, who was like Matt’s twin, around made her think of him.

The group grabbed lunch first, Blake and Tom hardly able to stand the hunger they were experiencing after their smoking session.

“I’m so fucking hungry!” Blake exclaimed once they were sitting down and had their drinks. Tom nodded enthusiastically from beside her, almost regretting their decision to smoke so much only a few hours prior. The after-effects were a bitch.

After some small talk of Ashley saying about how much she hated her roommate and how ridiculous she had been for the past few days, the trio eventually got their meals. Almost immediately, Tom and Blake dug in, not even bothered by how ridiculous they probably looked to the rest of the restaurant. In the midst of them shoveling food into their mouths, Ashley spoke up. "I want a tattoo," she said, shocking the hell out of Blake and making Tom choke on his food.

"What?" Blake all but shrieked.

It wasn't that Ashley was an innocent, completely opposed to the idea of tattoos and piercings or something like that. She was dating Matt Nicholls, for Christ's sake, and had a friend who worked in a tattoo shop. It was just that she was deathly afraid of needles and always claimed she would never, ever get a tattoo.

So yes, Blake was shocked, as was Tom. They just didn't understand.

"Why?" Blake asked, regaining her composure. "I mean, aren't you afraid of needles? Or have they invented a new method of getting tattoos that doesn't involve a needle?" she joked.

Ashley rolled he eyes and took a bite of her burger. "Don't be an asshole. I just want one, and I figure why not? I mean I have you, so you could do it for me Blake."

Blake and Tom exchanged a skeptical glance. "Needles, Ash. Yeh're terrified of needles. 's not the kinda fhing yeh can start and then decide yeh don' wan' anymore," Tom told her.

"I know that!" she insisted, getting irritated with her friends. "You two are assholes. Maybe I'll go somewhere else," she pouted, just to prove her point.

Blake smirked and rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Ash. We're just... Surprised, is all. A tattoo for you is a big deal."

"Kinda like you sleeping with Oli?" Ashley muttered under her breath before taking a drink of her water. She was irritated with her friends and was going to let them know it.

Blake rolled her eyes. "Don't be a bitch, Ash."

Tom snickered from beside her, so she elbowed him in the arm. "You too, Tommy."

He just laughed. "I didn't realize we were at the 'teasin'-Blake-abou'-'er-bad-choices' phase ye'."

Blake glared. "We aren't! You two are assholes."

Tom just chuckled and Ashley shook her head and smiled. The group finished their lunches before heading out. They may have been irritated with each other but they were mature enough that by the time they left the restaurant they were all over it. Blake and Ashley discussed Blake's tattoo idea while Tom snapped pictures--of them, of the people around, of everything.

Things were good. The three friends were hanging out and having fun and it was just nice.

And then Ashley's phone rang.

Blake and Tom were goofing off, Tom snapping pictures while the blonde posed for him. Neither was paying much attention to Ashley, because they both knew it would be Matt and they didn't want to eavesdrop on that conversation. After a little while, Ashley was squealing though and running over to Tommy and Blake. She was still holding her phone but it was down at her side. "Matt wants me to come out and visit for a few days!" she exclaimed when she got closer.

Blake nodded, figuring that would be the case. "That'll be fun."

"Here, Oli wants to talk to you too," Ashley told her friend handing over the phone.

"Hello?" Blake spoke with very little enthusiasm in her voice.

"Yeh wanna come too?" he asked her, skipping the small talk and getting right to the point.

Blake rolled her eyes and turned her body to face Tom. She mouthed, he wants me to come too to him and his eyes widened.

"Wants?" Tom whispered.

She nodded.

Tom just groaned in response. He was thinking the same thing as Blake, which was this is not going to end well.

"Uh..." Blake stuttered, "I don't know, Oliver. I mean..."

"Come on, Blake. We're doin' good wiff writin' and we want to see our friends."

Blake didn't answer.

"Blake. 's not tha' big of a deal. Just come out wiff Ashley."

She was quiet for another minute, before she sighed and said, "Okay fine. I'll come out."

Oliver joked that she shouldn't do him any favors but she just huffed and said a quick goodbye before handing the phone back to Ashley who resumed her conversation with her boyfriend.

When Blake turned back to face Tom, he was smirking at her. "Yeh're askin' fer trouble, Blake. Yeh know tha', righ'?"

Blake just rolled her eyes. She wasn't asking for anything. "Shut up," she muttered before returning to the task at hand: shopping.