While Nick prepared the cacciatore in the kitchen, his mind was spiralling. And once he got into that downward spin, it couldn't be easily stopped. Aside from all the other failures, Nick's bully brain immediately brought up how he had also failed that test at college today, how exercising one time honestly wouldn't make any sort of difference, and how Alex hadn't texted him again after sending a thumbs up to encourage him to have dinner with Blake.

Maybe it'd be better if he disappeared from here too. But it wasn't the location that was causing problems. The problem was him, and he couldn't just flee somewhere and not take himself with him. He'd only make an idiot of himself everywhere.

At least Nick managed to not burn the food while he got stuck inside his own head. Forty minutes later he brought the steaming cacciatore to the table. Blake had left Nick alone to stew in his own misery the entire time he cooked—he had made himself comfortable on the couch with his phone. When he spotted Nick with the food, however, he perked up.

"So, what did you make?" Blake asked, eying the cacciatore in the pan.

"Italian food," Nick replied.

"No specifics?" Blake grinned. "Alright, keep your secrets. It smells great anyway."

Blake got up from the couch and took a seat at the table. Nick hesitated between sitting down or vanishing in the kitchen or his bedroom with an excuse for a while longer. His eyes darted to the living room door, but eventually he decided he couldn't do that without Blake probably bugging him about it, and took a seat.

"Phew." Blake feigned breathing a sigh in relief. "I thought you were going to run out on food you cooked yourself too there for a second."

Nick suppressed a deep sigh. All he wanted to do was shovel the food into his mouth in silence, then go to his room and pretend he was going to study, while everyone and their grandma knew he'd just be watching shows all night. He didn't want to respond to Blake's constant quips.

"Could we just... not right now?" Nick blurted in his frustration.

Blake's smile faded slightly. "Not do what?"

Nick already regretting speaking up. His stomach sank. "I don't want every conversation we ever have to be some sort of," Nick faltered, not finding the right word for it. "...Like covert insults," he eventually settled on. "So could you not?"

"Covert insults? When have I been insulting you?"

Nick saw Blake's confusion. He wasn't going to get it. And if he did, it'd only make things even worse because Blake would now know for a fact how much he was affecting Nick, and it'd make him more relentless. Nick briefly closed his eyes, sighed, and turned back to Blake.

"The way you automatically assumed Alex was the first guy I ever took home."

Blake tilted his head to the side. "I still stand by what I asked before: wasn't he then?"

"That's not—" Nick sighed. "The way you introduced me to Lara as a football player while you knew I didn't play anymore."

"I did?" Blake thought about it for a second. "I'm sorry babe, if I did. I've associated you with football for such a long time it's kind of hard not to. I thought you still played casually with the high school guys, but that you had only stopped trying to go pro? I mean, I didn't ask Sem for all the details when he mentioned it."

How could you think that I could even stand playing casually now? Nick's first impulse was to yell that at Blake... but Blake didn't look like he did it on purpose. Maybe he was just a very good liar, but Nick knew Blake's teasing smirk and he wasn't wearing it now.

And when Nick really thought about it, it was clear only his world had collapsed. Everyone else's had just went on like nothing happened. Nick no longer playing football had no big effect on anyone else—certainly not on Blake who got all his information second-hand from Sem and not from Nick.

Great. Now he just felt stupid. Why couldn't these smart thoughts ever come before he talked? Nick shut his mouth, instead busying himself with shovelling food onto his plate.

"Wait, that's it then?" Blake asked. "So much build up for so little! That's all the 'could you not'?"

No. Nick nodded. "Don't make football jokes."

"And that's really all?"

"Yep."

"Okay." Blake's eyes sparkled. "Good to know talking about Alex and your bi-awakening is still alright then."

Nick's jaw clenched, but he stopped himself from responding. He'd only dig a deeper hole for himself if he talked; he already realised he wasn't making much sense and it wasn't going to become better. Nick only opened his mouth to take a bite of the chicken.

Blake also started loading an impressive amount of food on his plate, given that he was so skinny. He snorted. "Well, it's no fun if you don't react."

"Good."

There was a brief silence before Blake spoke up again. "You know I'm only kidding, right?" he asked. "I'm teasing you."

Nick looked up at Blake incredulously. Blake sighed. "Yeah, okay, fine, I'll admit I wanted to be a pain in the ass to you too for a bit, but why wouldn't I? You started it. It's not my fault that I'm better at being annoying than you are." Blake winked. "And that was a joke too, by the way."

"Okay. Yeah, it's all fine," Nick muttered. What else could he say?

Blake smiled without a care in the world. As if they weren't having the most awkward interaction right now. He'd clearly shed the uncomfortable feelings from days long past, why couldn't Nick do the same? He kept feeling on edge and nervous around Blake, and he didn't know how to stop it.

Blake leaned back and raised a brow. "You know I don't believe a word of what you just said, right? But that's okay. If you don't want to talk to me, I can't force you."

As if to emphasise his words, Blake took out his phone and placed it next to his plate on the table. He tapped the screen and started watching a video while he ate. And that marked the beginning of the end of the dinner Blake wanted to have together to talk, or try to be friends, or whatever the hell this was meant to do.

Nick had lost his appetite completely, yet, he forced himself to keep eating. He expected a quiet dinner, loading dishes into the dishwasher, and spending the rest of the night mulling over an utterly failed dinner while pretending he was doing homework. But it seemed Blake had different plans.

"Huh," Blake suddenly said, picking up his phone as a notification popped up on his screen. He read it, thought for a moment, then eyed Nick with a calculating gaze.

"You're, like, pretty good at card games, aren't you?"

"What?" Nick blurted at the unexpected question, before shrugging. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Good. Come to the Ace of Spades with me."

"I—" Nick opened and closed his mouth. "Why?"

"Because I have to be on the winning team, so I need to bring someone who can play well," Blake explained.

He was playing dumb. Obviously, they both knew that wasn't what Nick meant. He didn't mean why are we going to the Ace of Spades, but why, on earth, out of all people, do you still want me to go with you and prolong our suffering? Literally nothing Nick had done tonight should've convinced Blake this was a good idea.

But as always, Blake was completely unbothered and just smiled at Nick. "You owe me for getting out of your way and letting you seduce Lar— I mean Alex the other night."

While Nick sputtered incoherent replies, Blake had already picked up his and Nick's plates and walked to the kitchen to put it him the dishwasher.

Five minutes later, Nick found himself on the street, walking towards the city with Blake. It appeared he wasn't only incapable of saying no to pretty women. Nick frowned and shook the thought off before he'd land his brain in another spiral. "What are we going to do at the Ace of Spades?" he asked.

Blake shot Nick an amused glance. "Play games."

"Yeah, but what games and with who?"

"Don't know, and with Lara and Carson. You know them, so relax."

Lara and Carson were hardly the part Nick was concerned about here, but Nick didn't say anything. He just shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and sighed. At least there would be games to play at the Ace of Spades and it wouldn't just be Blake and him awkwardly staring at each other.