Capture the Moment (Moments #1)

18. Cleo

eighteen

Cleo

Lorelei Smith

Cleo we need to speak.

Me

There is quite literally nothing for us to talk about Lorelei.

Lorelei Smith

I am your mother.

You will meet me at Café Iteri. Friday at 12. Do not be late.

1 New message from Sexy Boy Scout

Sexy Boy Scout

Miss me?

Me

You have five minutes .

Sexy Boy Scout

What are your camera settings?

I can’t figure out which side would make me look sexier since my face is so symmetrical and what not.

Me

Blake…

You have changed Sexy Boy Scout to Blake (Wilder)

Blake (Wilder)

I love it when you say my name.

See u after class?

Me

We have the same class…

I have to go to the mall too

Blake (Wilder)

Perfect. Can I get a fashion show?

“How about now?” Blake asks for the thirtieth time, interrupting yet another conversation between Denver and me.

Denver shoots her cousin a menacing glare as he smirks back at her, fully gaining my attention.

“How many times are you going to ask CJ about the mall?” Denver sighs as she carelessly rolls her camcorder in her hands. She and her partner Ethan decided to take turns weekly with the camera instead of utilizing both like Blake and me.

“Until she says yes… duh, ” he responds in a matter-of-fact tone, Denver scoffs at him as he leans in closer to me, shutting my laptop.

“The answer is still no, Blake”. I grin, opening it back up to the powerpoint of the day.

Blake has been bugging me and Denver for the past hour and a half about whether he could watch me in the changing rooms at the mall and if he and I were going to shop for one another.

I'd originally ignored him but that lasted all of five minutes until he mentioned buying donuts on the way to the mall.

Blake scoffs, resting his head on my shoulder.

“I’ll let you watch me get naked.” He grins cockily, looking up at me with those stunning blue eyes.

Have you ever seen a clear ocean? Not like the ones we have here in Maryland—certainly not like Ocean City. No, I’m talking tropical islands with sand so warm, you feel like you’re in heaven. Blake’s eyes remind me of that type of water. They’re enchanting and freeing and what the hell am I talking about?

No. Absolutely not. No boys. No him .

I shrug Blake off of me and focus my attention back on Professor Hawkins. She’s teaching us about atmospheres and feeling’s through images and I’d be lying if I told you I was paying attention.

Those texts from my mom this morning is still weighing me down and I can’t stop zoning out thinking about the one guy who should be far from my mind.

“Did you hear what I said, CJ? I can’t join you guys today, I have to help this guy with something.” Denver’s soft voice startles me for a second. I sigh as I regroup my thoughts and focus on her.

“Huh? What guy?”

Denver rocks on her heels, avoiding eye contact with me. I stiffen as a small smile tugs on her lips. She says, “No one,” before dashing out of the emptying lecture hall and I just know that it’s someone .

“Ready for my fashion show, Princess. I will say that pink certainly looks good on you but red is my favorite so…” Blake trails off, his eyes brightening as I roll my own.

Blake is surprisingly silent the entire walk to his car and during the ride to the mall, the only sound to be heard is the soft R the sound is faint to my ears as I try to swat it away.

“Oh my God, I’m going to have to do CPR—don’t move!” Blake nearly shouts, my eyes shoot open at his loud tone and my breath hitches.

He's so close to my face that our noses are touching, my eyes widen, trailing down to his lips, and then back to his eyes. He smiles as if he’s not in my personal bubble and chuckles lightly.

“How’d you sleep, Princess?” Blake muses, backing away from me. I catch my breath once again before scowling at him.

“The rules—”

“Have not been broken, that wasn’t flirting… simply observing.” he interjects before scrunching his face. I watch as Blake taps his fingers on the steering wheel and yawns.

Was I asleep?

“Now, we’ve got to be quick. I have a playdate at five.” He’s grinning from ear to ear as he hops out the car, rounding to my side. He pulls open the passenger door, bowing a little and I think my stomach does a backflip at the action. But then it falls in the middle of the flip as I recall his words.

Playdate?

“Like with a girl?” I ask, taking his offered hand as I step out of the Jeep.

“Mhm… the most beautiful girl,” he adds with a little pep in his step.

Fucking gross. How does someone flirt with another person when they have a girlfriend? He went down on me not even a month ago and now he’s dating someone.

I scoff, walking ahead of him into the mall. I can hear Blake trying to catch up, but I pay him no mind as I stalk towards the store that I’d came here for.

Ugh. This is why I refuse to deal with men. As soon as you start talking to someone with the intention of flirting with them, you find out that they’re a two-timing weasel that wants to have his cake and eat it too.

The nerve of men.

This is why I think all men should be eradicated, not only do they do shit like that but they also mansplain everything. Like what is up with that—

“I got you a donut! I hope you like the regular pink ones with sprinkles. It was the only one they had,” Blake calls out to me, jogging at my side with a large pink donut covered in rainbow sprinkles in his hand.

What was I saying about men? Right—I hate—

“I also got an Oreo one just in case.” He shrugs, holding up a pink box in the other hand.

I stop in my tracks and glare at him—so maybe Blake Wilder knows that the way to my heart is through donuts, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a two-timing weasel. But I do take the box from him. I can’t let a perfectly good strawberry donut go to waste.

I thank him quietly as I stuff my face and ignore his light chuckles as we enter the first store. We shop around in silence for a few minutes with him showing me random clothes and me grimacing at his questionable choices in clothing.

One of the shirts said “DILFs make me horny” …I don’t even know how that ended up in a store like this.

“How about this,” he starts, taking a sip of the red slushy that he ordered. I pause in my casual clothes scrolling and look up at him.

“I find four outfits for you, and you do the same, wefilm you trying them on for the project, and then we each answer a question from our respective lists. That wayweget work doneandI can style you simultaneously,” he offers, shrugging nonchalantlybutI can see through the act. His eyes tell me how eager he is for me to agree, so I do.

What’s the worst that can happen?

I’ll tell you what the worst that can happen is. I’m standing in the middle of a secluded dressing room with Blake Wilder smiling from ear to earsittingon a beige leather couch holding a camcorder up to record me.

But that’s not the bad part.

The bad part is that he has me dressed like that one guy from thatonemovie who wears baggy jorts and shirts that weirdly fit a niche aesthetic but make me look like a homeless bimbo with bows.

“You lookadorable” he coos from the couch, recording me from head to toe.

Pouting, I look down at myself and sigh. “I look like I went shopping in my dad’s closet from the 90s.”

“So, fashionable?” he teases, amused at seeing medressed completelyunlike myself. Thenerve of this man. I flip him off before turning back on my heels toward the fitting room.

I’ll show him fashionable.

Hmph.

The shirt I picked out is a white slim-fit blouse, the kindthat the super-hot secretaries in office romances wear—yeah, that type.I paired it with low-rise jeans that hug my ass in all the right ways and flare out a bit around my shins. But instead of buttoning the shirt top to bottom, I only do the three in the middle, exposing my belly ring and some light cleavage.

I’d say that this is the perfect “confidently going to tell my mother off” brunch outfit . But wait, is this too much? Is it bland? There isn’t any pink in this outfit…should I add a pink accessory? Fuck—

“Hey, Princess, you good in there?”

“Just a second!” I call out and take a deep breath. It’sfine, this is all fine. I psych myself up to walk out, thisoutfit doesn’t have to be the best. It just has to look —

A whistle catches my attention as I walk down thehall of the dressing roomto where Blake is seated on the couch.He’s smiling so brightly thatI’m taken abackmomentarily,as I look at him.

“Well?” I ask, looking down at the clothing before doing asmallspin.

“You are magnetic, Cleo Jones. I don’t know how one woman can make both dad clothes and business chic look ethereal, but you did it.”

The comment catches me so off guard that I don’t know what to do with myself, so instead of responding, I turn on my heels with a stupid smile and scurry back toward the dressing room.