Chapter 34 34- Never Sit Too Close When He’s Warm
LEXI
Blake walks me back to my room at an even slower pace than usual. Not rushed. Not distracted. Just… Deliberate. He keeps glancing sideways at me, checking my steps, my posture, my breathing, then immediately looking away like he hasn’t done anything at all. It would almost be subtle if he weren’t terrible at pretending. As usual, people part around us. They give Blake a wide berth, eyes flicking toward him before darting away again. No one wants to risk catching his attention. No one wants to be in his path. Except one unfortunate student who misjudges the distance and steps a little too close to me. Blake reacts instantly. He tugs me firmly but carefully closer to his side, positioning himself between me and the stranger, his arm a solid barrier. His head snaps up and he fixes the guy with a glare so sharp it feels physical. The student goes pale. Like, ghost pale. He stumbles back a step, nearly trips over his own feet, and mutters something that might be an apology before fleeing in the opposite direction as fast as dignity allows. I blink, then look up at Blake.
“You didn’t need to terrify that guy. He didn’t even touch me.” I say, trying, and failing, to sound stern. Blake doesn’t look apologetic in the slightest.
“You nearly jumped out of your skin when I touched your hand earlier.” He says flatly.
“I’m not risking someone bumping into you.” He explains. There’s no hesitation in his voice. No doubt. Just absolute certainty, like the conclusion was obvious and inevitable. I can’t help myself, I smile. I almost tell him he’s acting like my knight in shining armour… But that doesn’t feel quite right. Blake isn’t a knight. A knight answers to rules. To orders. To a kingdom. Blake is a dragon. A dragon doesn’t care about laws or expectations. He doesn’t protect because it’s required of him. He protects because he chooses to. Because something is his, and therefore worth guarding. A knight would hesitate. A knight would weigh consequences. A dragon would burn the world down if it served his goals. And apparently right now, his goal is to protect me. I’m not entirely sure how I went from having no friends to having someone who casually threatens arson on my behalf. And yes, his methods still freak me out a little. I doubt they’ll ever not freak me out. But beneath that unease is something warm. Steady. Reassuring. Because no matter how terrifying he is to everyone else, Blake has made one thing very clear, whatever I am to him, I am worth protecting. And what woman doesn’t want a guy who is willing to go that far just for her? Do I think the ends always justify the means? Definitely not. But that doesn’t mean I can’t understand and appreciate his motives.
When we make it back to my room, Blake reaches for the chain around my neck without asking. He hooks two fingers beneath it, careful and precise. The backs of his knuckles brush my skin as he does it, a slow, accidental-on-purpose glide across the hollow of my throat, and my breath catches before I can stop it. The touch is barely there, but my nerves light up anyway, aware of every touch. His fingers are warm. Certain. Careful in a way that feels… Intentional. He draws the chain upward, sliding his fingers along my skin in a lazy path that leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Not rushed. Not hesitant either. Just controlled, like he decides the pace of everything around him, including my pulse. When he lifts the chain over my head, he’s close enough that I catch the faint scent of smoke and clean soap, and for a heartbeat the air between us feels very small. Then it’s gone, and the key is in his hand instead of resting against my chest. He fits it into the lock with that same quiet competence and opens the door as though it’s the most natural thing in the world to take care of me like this and ushers me inside, one steady hand hovering near my back without actually touching. He isn’t satisfied until I’m sitting, no, lying, on my bed, the covers drawn up over me like I belong there, totally tucked in. Straight from one bed to another. At least this bed is mine. I’ve only been here a couple of days, but it already feels like my space. Probably because the Academy seems disturbingly good at tailoring everything to suit us. The bed, the light, the way the room seems to settle around me when I’m in it. I glance around absently and realise, again, that I haven’t seen Blake’s room yet. That thought sparks a flicker of curiosity that I quickly shove aside. That’s an investigation for another day. Blake perches on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle me, not to lean too close.
“Are you comfortable?” He asks. His voice is low, steady. No teasing. No smugness. Just concern.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” I answer. And I am. Physically, at least. Mentally… Not so much. The images from earlier won’t leave my head. The screenshots. The comments. The way people circled the jewellery like it was proof of something ugly. I doubt Blake has seen any of it, but he could. At any time. And after today, after how quickly he reacted to someone hurting me, the idea of him seeing those posts makes my stomach twist. I really don’t want to see him on a fiery rampage. He’s my friend. Maybe more than that? Shouldn’t I warn him? Or is this one of those moments where protecting someone means not telling them something? Because the things people are saying about him… They’re cruel. He already hears whispers. But reading it? Seeing it written down, shared, liked? That feels worse. Still, hiding it feels wrong too. If Blake kept something like that from me, I know it would hurt. My chest tightens as I turn the thought over and over.
“Hey, Blake?” I start, slow and cautious.
“Did you know the Academy has its own social networking app?” I ask. His expression barely changes.
“It’s called… Actually, I don’t remember the full name. But it’s SCRI for short.” I inform him. I’m braced for something. Curiosity. Irritation. Anger. Instead, he just shrugs.
“I heard a few people talking about it. Didn’t see the point.” He says. I blink.
“You didn’t even look?” I question.
“No.” He glances at me like the answer should be obvious.
“The only person I’d bother following is you. And I’d rather hear about your life from you directly.” He responds, leaning back slightly, relaxed and totally unbothered.
“I don’t care what everyone else is doing. Or saying.” He adds. Something in my chest loosens. He knows it exists. If he wanted to see it, he could. He’s choosing not to. That choice matters. In that moment, I realise that telling him wouldn’t be protecting him, it would just be dragging him into something he’s already decided isn’t worth his attention. That means I don’t need to tell him, right? So I won’t say anything else. If Blake wants to know, he’ll look. And if he doesn’t… Then maybe this is one thing I’m allowed to keep quiet about. Just this once.
I ask Blake to give me a run-down of what I missed in class today, and he doesn’t even pretend to consider it. He shuts it down immediately, flat and firm, insisting that I should be resting and recovering, that whatever I missed can wait, and that my only job right now is to not push myself. I grumble about it out of habit more than anything else. But the truth is… I don’t actually feel like studying. The last of the numbness has finally faded and been replaced by that strange, hypersensitive exhaustion, like my body is tired from feeling too much all at once. Every sensation lands harder than it should. Even blinking feels like effort. So I let it go. Instead, I suggest a movie. Blake hesitates, clearly torn between indulging me and hoping I’ll just lie down and pass out properly. Eventually he gives in, though his expression says he’s absolutely convinced this will end with me asleep whether I mean to or not. I pick the movie. He pretends not to care, but he still shifts so I’m comfortable, adjusts the pillows, makes sure I’m settled before he sits. The opening scene starts to play. There’s music. Dialogue. Some dramatic establishing shot that I fully intend to pay attention to. And then… Nothing. One moment I’m watching the screen, blinking slowly, thinking that maybe I am more tired than I realised… And the next, the world just quietly switches off. No warning. No drifting. Just gone. I fall asleep.