Chapter 6

Jamie found Blake at the bar, leaning against it like a man born to lean against expensive furniture.

He looked entirely at ease – sleeves rolled, collar open, signature smirk fully operational.

Jamie, meanwhile, was trying not to sweat through his shirt or blurt out something incriminating about socks again.

Low expectations. Say nothing weird. Don’t mention dairy alternatives.

Blake turned as Jamie approached. “Good. You came.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “You summoned me. Like a Bond villain.”

“I prefer charismatic antihero, but I’ll allow it.”

He nodded to the bartender. “Mojito for him. Sex on the Beach for me.”

Jamie choked. “What?”

Blake looked far too pleased. “Just felt appropriate.”

Jamie stared at him. “You picked the drink solely to say ‘Sex on the Beach’ to me, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” Blake took the drink with a wink. “But also, I enjoy peach schnapps and bad decisions.”

Jamie blinked. “You’re an actual menace.”

“And you,” Blake said, handing Jamie the mojito, “are a mojito man. Sweet, refreshing, classic. With a twist.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow. “You remembered?”

Blake leaned in, that teasing glint softening – just slightly. “You told me, remember? Somewhere between the oat milk confessions and your Netflix recommendations.”

Jamie took a sip – cold, minty, annoyingly perfect – and tried not to let the butterflies riot in his stomach.

This is a terrible idea. I’m having a great time.

“So,” he said carefully, “are you always like this?”

Blake tilted his head. “Like what?”

Jamie shrugged. “Flirty. Infuriating. Mysteriously charming. Clearly brilliant. A little… exhausting.”

Blake chuckled. “Exhausting? That’s a new one.”

Jamie stared into his drink. “It’s just… you’re hard to read. You walk into a room and everyone lights up. You coach a team for five minutes and they start writing the best pitches of their lives. You flirt like it’s breathing, and I can’t tell if it’s real or just… what you do.”

Blake was quiet for a beat.

Then, softer, “It’s real when I want it to be.”

Jamie’s eyes flicked up.

Something in Blake had shifted. Not dramatically. Just… less polished.

More honest.

Blake continued, voice quieter now. “I grew up being the golden boy. Top schools. Perfect résumé. Perfect smile. Charming my way through boardrooms before I knew how to file my own taxes.”

He swirled his drink. “Everyone assumes I’ve got it all together, so I let them. But truth is…”

A small pause.

“Sometimes I don’t know what the hell I’m doing either.”

Jamie blinked. “Seriously?”

Blake smirked, just enough to soften it. “I once tried to impress a guy by learning how to play the ukulele.”

Jamie’s mouth dropped. “Did it work?”

“Absolutely not. He was tone-deaf and thought it was a mandolin.”

Jamie laughed – loud and real.

Blake looked at him, something warm settling into his expression. “You have a good laugh.”

Jamie ducked his head, taking another sip to hide the sudden heat in his face. “So do you always remember people’s drink orders?”

“No,” Blake said simply. “Just yours.”

Oh. That felt… unfair.

Jamie cleared his throat. “You said I could ask one question if you won darts.”

Blake raised an eyebrow. “I did. Go on.”

Jamie hesitated.

Then, curious despite himself, “Why Capulet?”

Blake looked amused. “You’re dramatic. Romantic. Full of flair. Star-crossed energy radiates off you.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “I’m not that tragic.”

“You’re not tragic,” Blake said softly.

And there it was again – that shift.

“You’re just trying so hard to be perfect you’ve forgotten you’re already enough.”

Jamie didn’t know what to do with that.

So he didn’t.

Instead, he glanced down – and immediately regretted it.

His socks.

Not even subtle.

One had tiny pineapples.
The other had flamingos in sunglasses.

Jamie groaned. “God – are you kidding me?”

Blake leaned over, looked, and grinned. “Flamingos and pineapples. You really are chaos wrapped in charm.”

“I wasn’t supposed to – these were laundry day socks! I didn’t mean to…”

Blake laughed.

Not the teasing one.

The real one.

And then he looked at Jamie like he’d just found something he hadn’t expected.

“God,” Blake murmured. “You’re really adorable.”

Jamie froze.

Oh. Oh no.

His brain short-circuited.

Heat rushed up his neck, across his face, everywhere all at once.

“I – what? No. I’m – not. I’m – regular.” He took a too-big sip of his drink and coughed. “I’m aggressively average.”

Blake just smiled, gaze steady. Amused – but not mocking.

Something softer.

Something… certain.

And Jamie, flustered and warm and happy and slightly terrified, had no idea what the hell to do next.