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The Banquet
"So you're going."
I looked through the mirror at Blake, standing at the door of my bedroom. The surgical tape wrapped over his nose incremented the displeased look on his face.
"Yes, Sherlock. What do you suggest? Turn down Aunt Matilde?" Brooke retorted while curling my free strands.
In response, he only casted an annoyed gaze at her way. Even though in that one week their hate relationship bettered a lot than before, he was in no mood for her snarky remarks today.
"It's not like she's going on a real date with him," she continued.
"Will you shut up?" Blake snapped.
Brooke's nose scrunched in anger, and before she could give him more reasons to blow, I grabbed her wrist and slightly squeezed. Fathoming my signal, she huffed. Getting up, I walked to Blake and held his shoulders.
"I know you're worried, Caveman. You don't like Mr
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