College is coming soon, and Blake Warner is sure that his life is embedded into the dead-end that is Merritt Hills, Georgia. His mother has assured him millions of times, that money has nothing to do with where his future leads.
But whenever he lie...
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Blake was once again, being distracted by both Jeff's unreeling complaints about Meg Ukie, and Mitchell Haling describing the best girl he'd ever met. Sure, Mitchell was a bit of a dramatic romantic, Blake had always somewhat valued his personality over Jeff's.
Meg sat comfortably in Jeff's lap, as Meg described the things she'd do to him, if he were a bad boy.
This had Jeff grimacing, standing from Mitchell's bedspread, and slipping his sweatshirt over his head, and onto his torso.
Mitchell paused his description of Melina Schaffer, who was apparently the most beautiful girl in the world. Although, he had said the same thing about Blair Devereaux, Cassie Simmons, and so on.
"Where the fuck are you going? You're not leaving me here to third wheel for the rest of the night are you?" Mitchell asked, his red and distinctive eyebrow shooting up on his forehead.
Blake shrugged, "kick 'em out." He says simply.
"You know what," Mitchell smiled, "he's right. If Blake's leaving, so are you two."
Meg groaned, leaning into Mitchell's face as she tried her best to persuade him. But if Meg would have known any better, she would know that Mitchell would never abandon another of his girlfriend's for someone who was already taken.
"Come on, Mitchie." She grinned, but this only had Mitchell shaking his head defiantly.
"No way, Meg, I've told you this. You've gotta catch me on a day when I'm single—you're single, and I'm not at all heartbroken." Meg groaned, slumping back against Jeff, who seemed just a bit too high to even function properly at the moment.
But both Mitchell and Blake knew, that even if he were awake, he wouldn't have seen anything wrong with Meg hitting on another guy. Even in front of him.
Blake didn't waste another moment, turning his back, and making his way out of Mitchell Haling's home, and down his long, and curvy driveway.
His thoughts moved onto Brooks, and soon enough, he couldn't help but wonder what the short, and abnormally thin boy was doing at that exact moment.
But even then, he knew Brooks wouldn't want to see him. After they'd had a good night together on Merritt's Mountain, he ruined it at the last second, and had reassured Brooks of his Blake-ly ways.
Or, maybe Brooks was at the Merritt Hills Rehearsal dinner, just like any other good, southern boy in that forsaken town.
Girls had been asking Blake to escort them to that stupid ball since he was old enough to participate. But he couldn't imagine it. Competing against girls he'd already slept with—on more than one occasion.
But he knew guys like Brooks had no problem with that kind of gathering. He'd be paraded, smiled at, and if he and his date were to win, he'd leave a legacy behind for all of his family.
Bleh, Blake thought, digging into his pocket, and taking out the flask that he'd drank alongside Brooks, while overlooking both Merritt Hills, and Atlanta together.
Soon, he was driving alongside the train tracks that separated him and the rest of the town's doormats, from people like Sheriff Hughes, Mayor Patton, and Charles Sutton.
Charles had never been one to sugarcoat anything. Not even how he truly felt about his own son, and anyone could see it. He felt no love for Brooks, only the soon-to-be scenery of Brooks running his family firm after law school.
But the one Charles had hates most, always had and most-likely always would hate—was Blake.
Blake and his arms that were scarred with tattoos, with things that were important to Blake. Like family. And maybe that was why Charles hated him.
Because of his love for family and need to be happy. No matter how bad of a background he'd come from.
Still, though, Blake couldn't deny what was right in front of him. The absolute, and heart-wrenching truth. The only person to ever tell Blake they loved him, was his mother.
And although he yearned for that kind of love. And lusted after every woman and mere girl to walk before him.
Sure, he knew it was wrong—but it was so hard to stop. Hard to stop searching for the kind of love he'd never experienced. The one where people said it—and actually meant it.
Brooks kept his smile.
Even when his mother scolded him for not laughed at one of Mayor Patton's jokes, and for accidentally saying a phrase a little too risky for Helena's taste.
Charles stood right behind her, and the hateful look in his eye had Brooks coiling into a corner where no one could bother him.
His homes library.
And sure, he wasn't necessarily one for reading, his home's library was the quietest place where no one would suspect he'd be hiding out in. He heard his mother call for him from afar, her voice breaching anger.
But he didn't care, all he needed was just a few seconds to himself until—
There was a chime in the distance, well, not the distance, but from where Brooks had mentally checked out, it seemed kind the distance.
He looked down at his ringing cellphone, that had been blaring for far too long to be a mere text message. He narrowed his eyes at the unknown number, carefully swiping and lifting the device to his ear.
"H-Hello?" He asked carefully.
"Hi." The hi was quiet, but audible enough for Brooks to immediately recognize the voice.
"Blake? How did you get my number—"
"No time for that, Brooks. Just—just come outside." Blake's words seemed swerved, almost as though he's drunk. But then, Brooks takes another listen to his tired grunts and realizes—he is drunk.
