Chapter 6 Liza
Liza
I’m standing in the middle of a coffee shop, but I’m not here for a drink.
With all the adrenaline coursing through my body, the last thing I need right now is caffeine.
I should probably grab a table just to keep myself from pacing as I wait for Blue.
A glance at my phone tells me he should be here in three minutes, but when I feel a blast of cold air from the open door, I know he’s here.
It doesn’t matter that Drip is packed with people right now, my eyes seek him out through the crowd.
He’s easy to spot because of his height, and as he dusts a few wet snowflakes from his hair, I can’t help but let my gaze roam over his broad shoulders.
Even a bulky hoodie and a pair of sweatpants can’t hide the outline of his toned physique.
But I cannot be sidetracked by hotness right now.
I’m on a mission to reclaim my laptop, and I won’t allow myself to be distracted.
I watch as Blue looks around the room, and I congratulate myself for not jumping up and screaming to announce my presence, or worse, plowing him over so I can grab my computer and rush out of here.
Instead, I calmly wave him over like I’m not on the verge of panic right now.
When I realized that my laptop was not only gone, but in Blue Freaking Halliday’s clutches, I nearly lost my mind.
I’m so close to regaining my sanity. When my laptop and all its salacious contents are back in my hands, the world will right itself and I’ll be able to breathe again.
“Thanks,” I say, as soon as he’s within five feet of me. I barely resist the urge to thrust my grabby hands out in front of me because Blue’s a notorious prankster and I don’t need him to decide to start a game of keep away in a crowded coffee shop with a million eyes looking on.
He plasters a smile onto his handsome face, but doesn’t look me in the eye.
“Oh yeah, totally. It’s no problem. I guess I grabbed yours instead of mine this morning because I was in such a rush.
And thanks for cleaning up after Hazel. I’m seriously sorry you stepped in her mess.
I mean, not like I put it there or something because that’s fucking weird, but just because, you know, she’s my cat.
Anyway, then I had that test, so I never even looked at my laptop.
Like, not at all. The prof makes us take paper pencil tests like it’s nineteen ninety-five or something.
Then I went to the library to study and to work on this project for my Econ class.
I needed my computer for that, but I got your text right before that, so it’s all good. ”
He smoothes a hand over his hair before setting his bag onto a nearby table so he can fish out my laptop, but when he hands it to me, he still won’t meet my gaze.
The rat bastard.
“You opened it,” I state plainly. There’s no reason for me to dance around the truth when it’s completely obvious. His cheeks are crimson right now, and even if they weren’t, his word vomit and lack of eye contact are practically broadcasting his guilt.
“What? I swear—”
“You opened it,” I repeat, hissing my words as quietly as possible.
It’s mid-morning, and apparently everyone on campus needs a pick-me-up before lunch, because this place is crawling with students and professors.
It’s unlikely anyone will hear me or be able to discern what I’m saying, but I’m not risking any more exposure—especially now.
“You opened it after I specifically told you not to.”
Blue doesn’t even bother lying. The man knows he’s been caught.
“I thought it was mine! I sat down to work on my project and I thought I was opening my own tabs, but no. They were yours. I wasn’t snooping.
I had literally no idea that instead of evaluating spreadsheets this morning, I’d be staring at a,” he looks from side to side before whisper-shouting, “wall of dicks.”
Oh shit. I’d forgotten about all of the various searches.
My stomach starts to plummet, imagining what he might have seen, but then I realize those dicks could very well have saved my ass.
Maybe he only saw that one tab, and not the rest. Maybe I can explain it away as a mistaken google search.
An autocorrect nightmare. I’ll tell him I was searching for chicks.
Yes, little fluffy chicks. Or wicks! I’ve suddenly developed an interest in candle-making during the spare time I don’t have.
It’s barely believable, but it’s better than Blue knowing the truth.
“I swear, Liza,” Blue says, looking earnest for once and not like the practical joker I know him to be, “it was an accident. I figured Ollie was pranking me with the dicks and the vibrators, and I was honestly pretty impressed. But as soon as I saw your sex journal, I—”
The word is barely out of his mouth before I reach up and cover his lips with my palm.
I will not think about how plump those lips are or how his mustache tickles the inside of my hand.
Nope. I can separate the hot hockey hunk body from the entitled ass who’s lucky enough to be inhabiting that body. I’ve been doing it for six months now.
His fingers gently encircle my wrist, gently peeling my hand away from his face. “There’s nothing wrong with recording your, uh, thoughts. I mean, you do you. Uh, while you’re literally, you know, doing you.”
I want to smack that damn smirk right off his face.
“Whoa,” he says, putting his hands up immediately. “I’m teasing you. It’s not a big deal. Everybody does it. Hell, I think we should normalize it a lot more. I mean, that’s probably why—”
If Blue says one more word, there’s a really good chance I’m going to strangle him. No one here seems to be paying us much attention, but that would probably change if I suddenly had a six-foot-four, two-hundred-and twenty-pound dead weight on my hands.
“It’s for psych,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice low and even. “Well, it’s for the psych department. They’re doing a study, and I’m participating. I’m not just taking sex notes about myself.”
The big guy just shrugs. “It wouldn’t matter if you were. I’m serious. Whatever you do with your body is your business, and no one else’s. That includes me, obviously.”
“Okay,” I say, sighing with a mix of relief and exhaustion.
“Okay,” he says, like he’s making sure the matter is really at rest. “So, uh…do you want a drink or anything? I’m sure they’ve got something with hazelnut in it.”
“I’m good, thanks,” I say, not wanting to stay here a minute longer than necessary. I’m ready to bolt for the door, but I can’t leave just yet.
“You sure? My treat. I could use a little caffeine, so I’m getting in line anyway. And you seem stressed. I’ll be quick, and I’m sure Theo will work his magic and make you something good.”
“Blue,” I say, drawing his attention away from the menu board and back to me. “Listen, you can’t—”
“I totally can, and I owe you for taking care of Hazel this morning. The line’s not long at all. I’ll be back in five.”
Before he can turn away, I reach for his arm.
The contact is electric, and I think he feels it too, because he stops in his tracks and I know it’s not because of my strength.
My fingers stay locked on his bicep—well, what they can cover of it.
Good Lord, the man is ripped. I know how big he is.
I mean, I’m intimately familiar with his measurements because I manage the uniforms, and I proofread the stats and bios that are printed in the program.
But knowing that the circumference of his bicep and feeling it are two very different things.
My job as an equipment manager requires me to do all sorts of things, so this isn’t the first time I’ve laid hands on a hockey player.
I’ve replaced blades and stitched jerseys mid-game.
But this is the first time I’ve ever touched Blue, and feels different than helping a guy with his skates or checking the fit of his pads.
At least, it feels that way to me, and that’s just ridiculous.
I’m ridiculous. Like Blue said, I’m stressed, and that’s obviously taking a toll on me.
There’s no way I’m actually attracted to Blue Halliday.
I’m probably sleep-deprived. That’s got to be it.
But right now, I need to pull my shit together.
“Wait. I don’t need coffee,” I say. “Thank you, but I’m fine.
What I do need is for you to promise—to swear on your beloved cat or your mother or the souls of great defensemen long departed—that you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.
What you saw was private. It wasn’t meant for anyone else’s eyes, and certainly not yours. ”
“Liza—” he starts, but this is too important, so I cut him off.
When I think about how vulnerable I was in that journal, how honest?
God, I want to melt into a puddle right here on the floor.
I freaking admitted that I have trouble getting myself to orgasm.
That’s not the kind of information I want to share with the general population, and it’s definitely not anything I want Blue to know.
That’s out of my control now, but I’ll do just about anything to keep it from spreading.
“You can't tell the guys,” I insist. “You can’t tell anyone. I’m not ashamed, but it’s just not something I want the whole freaking hockey team to know. And it’s a paid study. If word gets out, and it gets back to the coordinators, that could compromise my—
Now it’s his turn to interrupt me. “Liza, I won't tell anyone. Not even Wagner. I was never going to. This is your business, not mine. I know you think I’m an asshole, a clown. And you might have a point, but I’m not mean. I joke around, but I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
There’s a sincerity in his eyes I’ve never seen before, but even if I can’t fully trust it, I have no other option than to take his word for it.
If Blue Halliday fucks me over and spreads my business around campus, I’ll just have to deal with it the way I’ve always dealt with any bullshit I encounter: I’ll hold my head up high and pretend I’m just fine.
Fake it til you make it has been my motto since I was a kid, and it hasn’t let me down yet.
I do my best to calm down as I nod my understanding.
Besides, if he does screw me over, he’ll live to regret it.
I’m in charge of the man’s uniform, his stick, and his gear.
I’d never do anything to jeopardize the team, of course, but that doesn’t mean I can’t order his compression shorts a size too small.