Blake’s POV

I wake up already annoyed not because of my alarm or because Max kicked my door again and not because I stayed up too late.

No it was because my room smells wrong.

Not like motor oil and old sneakers and the cheap aftershave I stole from Dad. This smell is flowery, sweet like something exploded in a perfume shop and then apologized for it.

I groan and roll onto my side, my face smashing into something soft, too soft.

I crack one eye open and saw lace.

I stare at it for a solid ...