Dahlia Martinez. A girl with attitude, wit, and an extreme need for academic validation.
Blake Austin. A compassionate guy who has priorities...mostly.
Home troubles and past issues force Dahlia to a new school for her final year of highschool. S...
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"What do you think, mom?"
Blake just explained everything he told me earlier to my mom, who's sitting there with no expression on her face.
"If you want to stay here, it's okay." He says.
Mom looks at Blake, and now she's crying too. "I think I have a thing for making the Martinez women cry." I rub his shoulder, and he sighs.
"Blake, you really did that?" She asks.
"I did, but if you'd rather not—"
"Of course we'll go back! I'm shocked you did that for us...you're the only person I'd want dating Dahlia."
Blake sucks in a breath, and then he walks up to hug my mom. Wow, and I'm just left standing here.
"You have no idea how much that means to me." He smiles at both of us, and now my heart is doing backflips.
"It's pretty late, do you have anywhere to stay, Blake?" Mom says.
I hadn't even thought of that. He drove here, but did he bring anything?
"My things are at Logan's grandparents' house. It's about 15 minutes from here."
He walks up to me to give me a kiss on the cheek. "I'll come back in the morning for you guys. My parents really want to meet you for Thanksgiving."
Oh no. I hadn't even thought of meeting parents. I can feel my face heating up.
"Can you stay?" I question, looking at mom as well to make sure it's okay. Jake and Emerson are already sound asleep in their designated spots.
"Fine with me, I'm going to use the restroom." Mom walks off, leaving Blake and I.
"Sorry, I wasn't thinking." I mumble, slapping my forehead.
"What do you mean?" He raises a brow.
"There's no where for you to sleep. You can just come back in the morning." I grab his hand to walk him to the motel door. As I'm about to open it, he grabs my waist to turn me towards him.
"I see a perfectly good floor." He tips his chin up like he's just made an amazing discovery.
"You literally felt all the knots in my shoulders from sleeping there." I reply, putting a hand on my hip.
His only response is to kiss me, and my hands snake up to tug on his shirt.
Man, I love kissing him.
"I think I can deal with a few knots if it means being next to you." He whispers. Dammit, he raises the standard for all men out there.
Now my only response is to kiss him, long and hard now that no one's around. His groan ripples all across my body, and suddenly my face is heating up because of him, and not meeting his parents.
