I felt someone’s presence before I opened my eyes. Slightly opening my lids, and cursed inwardly from the brightness of the sunshine that was hurting my eyes.

Great, I forgot about closing the blinds again last night.

Willing my sleepy eyes to open a little wider this time, I was stunned to find Blake sitting on my couch, right across me, wearing a dark scowl on his face.

Why, oh why! Did I even give him a spare key, again? Ah, yes! So, that he can have a place to go to if he was feeling out of sorts.

Genius idea that was.

Rubbing my eyes and yawned loudly. I glanced at his quiet form, still wearing a brooding scowl on his face and still not speaking.


“Good morning to you too,” my voice sleepy and draped with sarcasm.

What’s with the attitude? I thought.

“What the bloody hell were you thinking, Sienna?!” his voice grating and condescending, his beautiful expressive eyes—midnight blue rimmed with grey and flecks of gold in the middle—flashing suppressed anger, stormy and formidable.

“Excuse me? What in the world are you yapping about, Blake?” was he drunk, high or something? He didn’t look it.

“Care to enlighten me?” exasperated and annoyed.

I felt like someone ran me over, I probably looked it too.

I’d give anything for coffee right now, I groaned.

What kind of mess am I in? I don’t recall stepping on anyone’s toes before leaving to go home, I think.

I just landed yesterday, jet-lagged, and a little drained from my conversation with Luce before she left for Turkey with Toby. And now, this.

He barges in here like he owns the place, demanding and with a taxing demeanor.

Wait, how did he know I arrived already? Uh, Lucy Connelly probably did the courtesy.

She’s my friend, my flatmate, and dating Toby Watson—Blake’s best friend since childhood. I met Lucy at a college party. She was sweet and genuine and we hit it right-off. She casually mentioned that the woman, who she shared an apartment with, left for New York to follow her boyfriend, so I immediately inquired about the vacant room.

I was living in student housing then, but needed my own place—away from cat-fights, drunken noise, and drama. She offered excitedly and wanted me to check it out the next day, I accepted. I moved in two days later. Our friendship blossomed. And we became each others close confidants.

She went to school with Toby and Blake, in London School of Economics. And when she started dating Toby, two weeks after I moved in, I became friends with the two men—more so with Blake. We just clicked.

That was a little over eight months ago.

“I ran into Lucy last night, in Toby’s flat, and she casually mentioned that you came back last night, without telling anyone, might I add. So, OBVIOUSLY, I wanted to visit you—but she stopped me, revealed that you were in a delicate state—so, of course, my curiosity peaked—I badgered her until she told me what she knew—and learned about your ‘little interlude’ with Kyle—while her girlfriend was in the premise—the intention of ‘closure’, indeed, was lost to you,” his furious expression deepened when he said ‘little incident.’

I blushed.


He probably thinks I’m a hussy now, giving in to Kyle’s advances.

I glanced away from him quickly. Was he ticked off that I hadn’t called him about what happened and learned it from Lucy? Even managed to sound—hurt?

I’m sort of in a tricky situation, Kyle cheated with his girlfriend—with me. When I told Luce, she was shocked and felt wretched for me. So, it’s no surprise, really, with Blake’s reaction.

“Yeah, about that…it was a merely a moment of madness—I’m shattered about it—who wouldn’t be in my situation? My emotions got the best of me….,”

I wanted to erase the whole entire visit back home from my lagging memory.

“How could you put yourself in that position? I didn’t understand the bloody need to go and get ‘closure’—he already started seeing someone else—before he called to break it off with you. Have you forgotten about that? He’s a cheater! But still there you went prancing back to Los Angeles. And to make matters worse, he took advantage of that. You were intoxicated and placed yourself in danger!” his scowled deepened, “You could’ve been hurt, Sienna.”

I was, not in the way he was implying, but my heart and pride were crushed.

“How you exaggerate things and blow it out of proportion!—really now, Blake… it’s Kyle we’re talking here. He would never hurt me, not like that.” I fidgeted with my lemon chiffon-colored, six hundred count sheets with my fingers trying to gather ground.

Was it really pathetic to look for closure? No, but if the guy in question cheated—surely closure is out of the question? My thoughts queried.

He sighed deeply.

He got up from the couch and stood in front of me, holding out his hand. His frame dominated the room. It’s a pretty decent size, but put Blake’s presence anywhere and the result would be the same, size be damned.

He has that pulling power around him and his dark good looks just enhanced it.

Dressed in nude chino shorts, blue dress shirt pushed back to his elbows and tan soft-leather loafers. He looked like he just stepped out from a Dolce and Gabbana summer photo shoot.

Sometimes I wish he was average looking then it be easier to look at him and not melt.

A few strands of his wavy locks fell onto his forehead, looking down on me, his beautiful face complacent, “I made the courtesy of brewing some coffee. Come.”

Taking his outreached hand and pulling me out of bed, “I was worried, Sienna. I care for your well-being. Don’t be cross,” I looked down, not meeting his gaze.

He towered over my five feet two stature. He inhaled deeply, smelling my forehead before kissing it, grabbed my hand and walked towards to the kitchen where the smell of freshly brewed coffee emanated, drawing me closer.

He didn’t utter a word until I had my first sip of caffeine. “How are you really feeling? Okay? Not okay?” studying my reaction, pensive.

“Yes—no—I don’t know? Can one be ever okay after a broken heart?” I doubt it, shrugging, “I’m sure I’ll move on, but I doubt I’ll put my heart out there like that—it’s traumatizing enough—being vulnerable is something I don’t take lightly—knowing my background and all,” sipping my scalding coffee without batting an eyelash.