"She didn't need a sword or a crown made out of gold, but only roses and bare fists to take on the world."
"His smile. That's it. One flash of those eyes lighting up, and I'm gone."
...
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I blinked at his question. "Are you fucking serious?"
Did he forget to tackle me to the ground to prevent me from hitting Cassie when things went to shit with Sam? Or taking photos of Miranda's Quincenera?
His mismatched eyes widened. "Um..."
Heterochromia. The word popped into my mind unbiddenly. I'd only seen it in pictures.
Until him.
One was blue, as clear as the sky above us and the other was a shade of green, like grass. Like the rest of him, both were soft.
He was thin. Despite the oversized bright red hoodie, he wore that had some cartoon character on it, I could see the sharp points of his collarbones peeking through, paired baggy jeans with white sneakers.
Head full of light blond curls that fell right over his brows, some curled over his ears and resting on his golden skin, brushing at his high cheekbones.
And yet he looked so...pretty. He wasn't ruggedly handsome or even cute. Just pretty like the cherubs I'd seen in paintings.
"I'm sorry," Blake said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I don't really..."
I put up a hand. "Remember me? Okay. I get it." It's a first. "I'm a friend of Miranda's. You took photos of her birthday last year."
His eyes lit up at that so I went on. "You also made a Black Widow comment in the hallway to me, after a... prank."
Remembering the fake blood that splattered all over Sam leading to a panic attack made my jaw tick. I made the person pay of course.
YouTube confirmed it.
Blake gave a wince at that. "Now that you mention it, that sounds like me," he said, facing me fully. "Sorry about that. It must have made you uncomfortable."
Is this guy for real?
"I don't think being compared to a badass superheroine is the worst compliment." I gave him a smirk. His cheeks turned bright red at that. "One of the best."
