Capture the Moment (Moments #1)

25. Blake

twenty-five

Blake

“Dude, would you stop pacing? You’re giving me hives.” Braxton scoffs, looking up from his phone. I stop pacing for a small second to look at him before continuing.

Cleo said that she and the girls would meet us at the concessions stand at 7:30 and I’ve been a sweaty mess ever since. This year, SFU has pulled out all the stops for Fall Fest. Usually, it’s a three-day event where you can do apple picking, hayrides around campus, and pumpkin carving.

Basic fall shit, if you ask me.

But last year the school bought more land and decided to make it into a fairground that’s also open to the public. So now there’s a students only side where you can do cozy fall activities with your roommates and then walk over to the fairgrounds where the carnival games and rides are.

“Daddy… Uncle Lake is sweating…” Delilah whispers rather loudly to her father, and I stop pacing to chuckle at her. She smiles as I make a silly face but I’m instantly back to my pacing when she turns to look at her dad again.

“Dude, chill out, you’re scaring the kid!” Jace laughs as he approaches our group with Ricardo Ruiz and Alec. Ricardo’s our backup goalie after Derek. He’s usually a quiet guy who hangs out with Alec and his little brother, Rico, who's also on the team. Rico plays offense and has one of the best slapshots I’ve seen out of any of the sophomore guys so far.

My eyebrows shoot to my hairline as Ricardo approaches us with a smile beside Alec. I don't think I've ever seen him smile. Weird.

“Hey, dude!” Charlie exclaims, ever the cheerful one as he dabs up Ricardo .

Ricardo’s smile is almost timid as he reciprocates the gesture with Charlie, going down the line with the rest of the guys and me.

“So, what are we waiting on—”

“That would be me! Sorry we’re so late. G couldn’t find her keys and then I couldn’t find mine and Si Si left her room key so we all had to search for it but then I realized that I had it and well—” Cleo breathes, standing in front of me. Her chest rises fast as if to catch her breath from the rambling she’d done, “Hi.”

She’s dressed completely different from her usual style of pink dresses and rompers with matching bows.

Cleo’s wearing baggy, low-rise jeans that complement her toned body super well, a short baggy crop top that’s navy blue and white with the words COSMIC across her chest and paired it with navy blue and white sneakers— weird, but I like it . I look her over from head to toe and smirk as she does a little spin obviously catching me check her out, but there’s still something missing.

I raise an eyebrow at her as she tilts her head in confusion. “Bow. Where’s the—”

She holds her right middle finger up directly to my nose and I snort as her eyes go wide. She drops her hand immediately looking down at the ground.

“I blew out my hair earlier so I didn’t want to mess it up by tying it back, so I wore my bow ring as the next best option.” She shrugs and I nod because who’s Cleo Jones if she doesn’t wear her signature bows somewhere ?

Sienna, Georgia, Denver and Ryan approach us. But I can’t take my eyes off the bow-loving girl in front of me.

Cleo has this magnetic pull to her; no matter who you are, you’re drawn to her.

Or at least I am.

We spend about five minutes discussing what rides we’d go on first and I'm about to make a suggestion when the bow-loving girl beside me tugs me away from our talkative friends.

Cleo directs me through the maze of people surrounding the game stands and pauses in front of a game where you have to shoot darts to win a prize. I groan because we all know how good she is at this type of stuff but I secretly love that this is the first thing she wants us to do.

In a universe surrounded by cutesy little games where the guy wins the girl a prize, Cleo Jones creates her own planet and dominates every single one. She wins me prizes and pinches my cheeks when they heat up.

For a moment, I think she might feel the same way about me as I do her. I don’t let the thought leave my mind, but instead, I bask in it. I’m living vicariously through the version of me in another universe, on a way better planet, where Cleo “Princess” Jones is in love with me.

Is love too much? Or am I just an idiot who has the biggest, fattest crush on a girl that I can’t have?

Who knows and who cares? In the wise words of Ziye’ Taylor (some author that my sister won’t stop talking about), “Y.O.L.O… either do or die wishing you did.”

That sounds suicidal… but it’s accurate for how I feel right about now.

“Okay, Boy Scout, let’s see if you can redeem yourself from that horrendous game of darts you just played,” Cleo chuckles to herself as we approach a “football” game.

The object of the game being you have to hurl footballs into four tiny holes to win a prize which seems easy enough. But I fucking suck at football. Why else do you think I stick with hockey?

“I’ll even grant one of your many wishes if you succeed!” She mocks, her tone incredulous but there’s a hint of amusement beneath her eyes that I won’t take for granted.

I’m gonna fucking win that wish.

Cleo still has two left from our last game, and I’ll be damned if I lose another chance at getting a free Cleo Jones wish.

The first two balls must have missed the memo however, because instead of going in one of the four holes, they go so far left that I almost hit the poor stall attendant.

“Sorry,” I mutter sheepishly, the feeling of my ears reddening further embarrasses me .

The attendant chuckles to himself before granting me yet another football with a small discreet wink.

With every fiber of my being, I throw the ball and I’m so nervous I close my eyes because I’d rather not see the look of shame on such a pretty girl's face.

I don’t open my eyes when the bells around us chime, or when the stall attendant lets out a low whistle. No. I open them when Cleo Jones’ little body tackles me, squeezing me so tight that the air leaves my lungs for a moment too long. Had she been her brother's size, the two of us would be far, far away based on her tackling hug alone.

“Oh, my fuck! You did it, I had so much faith in you!” She beams, brown eyes dancing with excitement. Cleo’s legs tighten around my torso as she squeezes her arms around my neck tighter.

I give her a look as she rolls her eyes.

“So maybe I didn’t believe in you… but you still fucking won with your eyes closed! If I’d known you could do shit like that with your eyes closed, I would’ve—Never mind.” She pauses and it’s like she comes to her senses all at once. Cleo removes herself from me awkwardly and clears her throat.

“Got too excited?” I tease, because who am I if not a tease?

She lowers her head, and I can feel her smiling before she looks back up at me with a schooled expression. “I’m going to the bathroom… When I get back, I’ll grant your wish,” She mumbles before scurrying off like puppy with her tail tucked between her legs.

I'm silently laughing as I follow behind Cleo holding the four plushies she’d won plus the little otter I’d won for her, and I stand outside of the bathroom waiting for her, like the true gentleman that I am.

I’m on my phone, scrolling mindlessly through my camera roll and I can smell her before I hear her. I’m immediately annoyed as the scents of cheap perfume and burnt extensions crowd my senses.

Chelsea presses her breasts against my arm and plucks the otter plushy from my fingers before I can get a word out.

“I missed you, Blakey,” She coos, toying with the literal toy that I’m supposed to give to my future girlfriend .

Yes, I know that I’m moving too fast and no I quite literally do not give a fuck. In my head the princess and I are married with three kids and live near a fucking beach in California. Sue me.

I reach for the otter and groan as Chelsea reels back causing me to fall into her; to the wondering eye, it’d look like we were embracing one another, and yuck . I would never—okay, that’s a lie… I have . But I would never do that again. She gave good head, but she clearly doesn’t use her brain. If she did, she’d understand that I could do without seeing her face for the next millennium .

Chelsea frowns as I snatch the otter from her greasy fingers and dust it off. I’m probably going to have to get Cleo a new fucking plushy because she touched it. Fuck, I don’t think I can win that damn game again. That shot was beginner’s luck!

“Why are you acting like this towards me, Blakey? I thought we had something special!” Chelsea’s nasally voice whines as she latches onto my arm like a pest.

I try and fail to shake her off and I hate this because Cleo can come back any moment and I would honestly hate myself If I upset her.

“You gave me head, Chelsea, and then somehow fell asleep naked in my bed. It’s not like it was the most passionate sex I've ever had,” I blurt out and immediately feel like shit because Chelsea’s green eyes go sad for a second and I think she’ll take the hint, but no.

Fucking Moaning Myrtle smiles at me and I mean properly smiles. With all her teeth and shit.

“So you remember my lips on your cock?”

Fucking delusional ass—

“Is everything alright?” the voice of an angel calls out to me in a tone I can’t quite register. It’s not sad or mad but it’s not too happy either. It’s a tone that makes my skin crawl because I feel like I'm in trouble with my mom when I did nothing wrong. My eyes widen when Cleo fixates on me with a look of pure steel.

She’s mad?

“Who is this bitch? ”

My head reels back and I immediately stumble to Cleo’s side, positioning myself in front of her.

“Watch your mouth.”

“But… But Blakey!” Chelsea blubbers, eyes wide with shock.

“Watch your fucking mouth when you talk about her.” My teeth are clenched and I’m so fucking livid that I don’t think I can calm myself down.

I mean, who does Chelsea Myrtle think she is calling Cleo out of her name? How dare she? I mean seriously, Cleo, of all people?

Cold, soft fingers tug on my upper bicep from behind, the feeling sends little shockwaves up my spine and I know it’s her .

Cleo.

She lets out a soft chuckle from behind me and I smile because I know she finds this whole situation funny even though it’s pissing me so far off I can’t see straight.

“Let’s just go. You still have one wish to cash in,” she says, looking up at me with the most beautiful brown eyes.

Most people think that blue or green eyes are the most magnificent but in reality, it’s brown. Brown eyes have a vast range from being as dark as charcoal to light like warm almonds. Cleo’s eyes remind me of a tawny owl. They’re large and wide and full of life but also a shade of brown that is so light in the sun it’s like a caramel but during the evening it’s dark and rich in color.

I’m obsessed with her eyes.

And so instead of giving Chelsea Myrtle any more of my energy, I look down at the girl who’s been invading my mind and smile. “Hungry?”

She nods, grabbing a hold of my bicep just a little tighter, shifting closer to me.

And without looking back at the gaping blonde in front of me, we turn on our heels—my bicep in her small cold hand—and make our way to the food stalls.