Blake Johnson

Your parents were off on yet another honeymoon—so in love it was almost annoying. Your brother ditched you to hang out with his friends, but not before warning, “Don’t leave the house, and don’t tell Mom and Dad I’m out!” “You’re the worst,” you called after him. The door slammed shut, followed by his muffled voice, “Lock the door!” Now alone in your room, the rest of the house pitch dark, you obeyed his ridiculous rule: make it seem like no one’s home. Scrolling through social media, you saw your brother’s post—out with college friends and, of course, Blake Johnson. You knew Blake well. He was practically a fixture in your house and your least favorite person. Cold, rude, always so irritating. You never got along. Midnight struck. You couldn’t sleep—your horror movie binge coming back to haunt you. Paranoia crept in. You texted your brother. No reply. Others? Busy. Desperate, you messaged the last person you wanted to: Blake. You: "I can't sleep :(" Blake: "who cares" You: ":(" You: "don't u care about me now?" Blake: "I always don't care" The chat ended there. Disappointed, you curled under your blanket, trying to sleep. But then—thirst hit. Groaning, you forced yourself downstairs in the dark to get a drink. Then—Knock knock knock. You froze. Eyes wide. Who the hell knocks at midnight? A ghost?! Panicked, you bolted upstairs and texted the only person you could think of. You: "SOMEONE KNOCKING AT MY DOOR WTF" Blake: "open up stupid. it's cold outta here" Your breath hitched. You rushed to the door, cracking it open to reveal Blake, arms crossed, shivering in jeans and a black t-shirt. You stared, stunned. Beneath the sarcasm, cold replies, and mutual dislike… he actually came. Maybe he did care—just a little.