Blake waits downstairs for me for ten minutes while I run into my room to finish dressing. A button-down shirt that plays well off my dark skin, a pair of skinny jeans, a spritz of cologne, and…
“Boots or sneakers?” I ask Clyde. He looks up lazily, flicking his right ear.
“Sneakers it is.”
Downstairs, Blake, Mom, and Dad are sitting at the dining table. Blake went all out in a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a black vest, and nice jeans.
“That’s a different outfit than you showed me,” I say. Mom clears her throat and Dad glares. “I mean, you look nice.”
“You think?” Blake asks. He looks down at his boots—I’m glad that I didn’t select mine—and spins around once. “Thanks. I really wasn’t sure what to wear on a date—had a crisis of confidence at the last minute and thought I’d change it up. I knew I was going to have to keep up with you.”
“Careful there, Dre,” Dad says. “This one’s a charmer. Guard your—”
“Dad. That’s enough. We’re going.” I push Blake toward the door, intending to get him out of there as quickly as possible. But before we can cross the threshold, Dad grips my arm, squeezing.
“I’ll meet you at the car,” I tell Blake, who catches on.
Once Blake’s gone, Dad opens his mouth, but I cut him off.
“I know what you’re going to say. Can we just skip—”
“Nope,” he says, handing me my jean jacket from the door. “You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Dad.”
“Don’t feel forced. This is just a boy. To quote Grey’s Anatomy, which is a god-awful example of hospital procedures—”
“Please don’t. I’m begging you.”
“He’s very dreamy, but he is not the sun.”
“All right,” I say quickly and hug him. “I’m going. I’ll be home by curfew. Goodbye.”
I push my way out and get into Blake’s car.
“Drive. Quickly.”
The zoo is on the other side of town, and since it’s Saturday, the streets are busy. It gives Blake and me time to talk, but for the first fifteen minutes, we both sit in silence.
I’m the one who breaks it.
“So, you were serious about the zoo, huh?”
He glances over but never moves his hands from the ten-and-two position. “Yeah. Is that a problem? Thought it might be nice?”
“Or cute?”
He shrugs. “Both work, I guess.”
“You guess?”
He shrugs again. “There’s a special late-night event. Seeing animals at night—I thought you’d like it. Don’t want to be too cocky. That’s not something you like in a guy, is it?”
“You’d be surprised what I like in a guy. Want a hint?”
“I’m not against playing video games on easy mode, so yes.”
“You’re on the right track.”
Blake grins, and I can’t help but grin back. There’s something different about this smile than others, nothing physically different… But this time?
This smile makes it hard for me to breathe.
“What else?” I ask.
He glances over at me.
“What else do you think I like in a guy?” I clarify.
He shrugs, his eyes still looking forward. “A good person, I think.”
“You think or you know?” I bite my lip. “Sorry. Thank you.”
“You’re a person who doesn’t take compliments well.” He reaches over with his hand, squeezing my thigh. “Should we unpack that?”
My body freezes and tenses up like petrified wood. Blake notices and moves to shift his hand away, but before he can, I put my hand on top of his.
“I thought this was a date, not a therapy session.”
Blake lets out his deep laugh, a baritone ripple filling the inside of the car. I like that sound. It’s deeper than Michael’s voice.
“Touché,” he replies, and moves his hand back to the wheel.
A part of me wishes he would put it back.
“Is that what you want to be?” I ask. “A therapist?”
Blake shrugs. The zoo comes into view on a hill in the distance, lights glittering. “Maybe?” he says.
“That doesn’t sound confident.”
“I’m not sure my father would support that.” He laughs. “Do you think a psychologist would bring honor to the McIntyre name?”
In this moment, Michael’s words float back into my mind, along with the intention behind them. How we need to decide what type of person we want to be, without worrying about what our parents want. Without worrying about the expectations of the rest of the world. Maybe Blake and I really do have more in common than I thought. The concern that something you want to do doesn’t align with what your parents want resonates with me. Michael doesn’t have that concern. He’s bold, brave, and free-spirited, and he doesn’t take no for an answer. I’m envious of that. But, intrinsically, Blake understands me.
I grin at Blake, reach over, and squeeze his leg in return. “I think you’d make a good psychologist. No, a great one.”
A bright smile covers Blake’s face. A smile that dwarfs the lights from the zoo. It makes his eyes shine a bright green too.
“And you’ll make a good…?”
“Doctor,” I lie. For now, it’s easier, because I don’t have an answer to what I want to be yet.
“Doctor.” Blake nods, finding a parking space. He turns off the car, the warm hum turning into a purr as we sit there in silence.
“You ready to have a good night with me, Dr. Andre Cobb?” he asks, twirling his keys between his fingers. “I promise, if you give me a chance, I’ll give you the best night you can imagine.”
“That sounds like a tall order.”
“I appreciate a challenge; you know that,” he whispers. “And you’re worth making a fool of myself for.”
I study his features, every etch on his face, every twitch of his eye, searching for any sort of lie. But there’s nothing. Only pure hope and positive intent.
There’s nothing dark or sinister about Blake McIntyre.
“All right,” I finally say. “But any snacks we get are on me. I can’t have you buying everything.”
“Who knew Andre Cobb was such a knight in shining armor?”
“Dre,” I correct him. “You can call me Dre.”
Blake’s eyes beam brighter than I would’ve imagined possible at such a simple offer.
“Dre it is.”
* * *
We spend over two hours at the zoo, and even with the crowded groups, overactive children, and sleepy animals, it’s a fun date. Blake knows more about animals than I would’ve expected any upper-class teenager to know, and he takes an extreme amount of interest in the lions, the last exhibit we see. He talks about them for almost three minutes straight.
“Sorry,” Blake mutters. “I know I ramble when it comes to animals.”
“Don’t worry,” I say, nudging him with my shoulder. He’s blushing, looking down at his feet the whole time. “It’s cute. Have you considered being a vet? Or a lion psychologist?”
He looks up, with a puzzled look on his face that’s oddly adorable. He opens his mouth like he’s going to reply, but then he smiles. “Wait, that’s not a real thing, is it? Because it sounds like a freakin’ sweet—oh. You’re joking, aren’t you?”
“And what gave that away, hmm?”
He opens his mouth to say a quippy retort but winces, looking up. One raindrop turns into two, two into four, and like a stampede, everyone in the zoo goes running back to their cars. Luckily enough for us, the lion exhibit is close to the exit, and we make it before getting completely soaked.
“Here,” Blake says, reaching into the back and pulling out a towel. “Not sure how clean it is. It’s my post-practice towel, but…”
“I’ll take it.” I rub myself down quickly, ignoring the smell of sweat and cologne that lingers on the fabric. And, if I’m honest, it doesn’t smell horrible. It smells like him, and that’s not the worst smell.
I pass the towel to Blake, who dries himself in silence. Slowly, he strips off his shirt, revealing his chiseled abs and defined pecs—my breath hitches, again. Blake doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, he’s doing a good job of playing it cool. He puts his shirt and jacket back on without a word. As an athlete, I’m sure he’s used to being shirtless around guys. This is nothing to him.
It’s everything to me. Sure, it’s not the first time I’ve seen Blake McIntyre shirtless, but this time, it feels different. This time, we’re on a date.
We sit in silence, listening to the heavy droplets of rainfall on the car windshield. Blake turns the heat on low, and the hissing and hum of the crackling heater are soothing.
“I don’t expect us, you know, to just start dating,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “But I had a good time with you today.”
I don’t need to hesitate with my answer. “I did too.”
“And I’m just assuming, you know, correct me if I’m wrong, that since we both had a good time, we could maybe try to see if we can have another good time, and another, and if we do, maybe we can see what happens?”
“Like in geometry, how it takes three points to verify a line?”
He pauses and shakes his head. “You’re such a dork, but, like you said before, I’m growing to love it.” Blake shifts the car into reverse. “I should get you home. Don’t want your dad to hate me right off the bat.”
“Oh, he already does. Don’t take it personally.”
The joy seeps from Blake’s face like ink rushing out of a broken container.
“Joking.” I smile. “If you’re going to hang with me, you have to get used to these jokes.”
“Maybe you should make funnier jokes,” he scoffs and starts to back the car out, curling his spine around and putting his hand on the back of my seat. At least, that’s where his hand should be.
Instead, it slips around my back and grips my right shoulder. He has a sly smile on his face the whole time, a smile he’s trying to hide by making his features twist into something normal.
“You’re not slick, Blake McIntyre,” I say as his hand slips down and settles on my thigh.
“I’m a little slick. You have to admit it.”
I roll my eyes and turn on the radio, looking out the window. But, somewhere between ten and fifteen minutes into the silence after we leave the zoo, my hand slips down, and my fingers lace with his.