Chapter 14 Liza
Liza
Blue’s already seated at a table near the fireplace when I walk into Drip.
He looks good because drop dead gorgeous is a natural state for him.
His hair is wet from the shower, and curling at the ends.
He's wearing the same clothes most of the guys do, sweats and a BU Hockey hoodie. I’m certainly not judging.
I wear hockey merch most of the time, too, because it’s free and it’s comfortable. Those are two of my favorite things.
Blue also looks exhausted, and for half a second, my brain wonders if he’s tired from all the x-rated activities he was up to in my very naughty dreams last night.
An unexpected moment in the freaking equipment room with Blue freaking Halliday was the sexual awakening I didn’t know I needed. And now that the door has been opened, all I want to do is explore.
Well, part of me wants to. There's a devil on one shoulder who’s eager to try anything and everything with the delicious specimen of manhood who’s only twenty feet away from me.
After all, that’s why I’m here. We’re meeting up specifically to discuss how all of this is going to go, since we went straight to the good stuff on Friday night and skipped the logistics.
I want to talk to him. I want to discuss this. I think we need rules, and a plan, and boundaries.
But I also want to fake an emergency, pull him into the restroom, and tear his shirt off.
And that’s not a feeling I’ve ever experienced before.
Sure, I’ve found guys attractive. And if the moment calls for it, I’m not opposed to a guy taking his shirt off.
But I’ve never yearned for it. I’ve certainly never let it play out in my head.
But that’s what I’m doing right now: mentally undressing a man in a coffee shop. And planning to sit down with him and make a sex calendar.
This is my life now.
And, to be honest, it’s a little terrifying.
The angel on my shoulder is telling me that I have perfectly good coffee and creamer at home, for free, and that I should turn around right now and make myself a cup.
The angel thinks I should either quit the study, or do only what’s necessary in the privacy of my bedroom or my shower.
She doesn’t think I should talk to Blue about any of it, and she really doesn’t think I should let him get anywhere near me with his hands or his mouth.
But when Blue spots me in the doorway and waves me over, I have an uncontrollable urge to tell her to shut the hell up.
Instead, I ignore my imaginary shoulder companions, walk through the crowded coffee shop, and slide into the seat across from Blue.
He greets me with a warm smile. How have I never noticed that his smile is a little lopsided.
Or maybe it’s his mustache that’s making it look a little crooked.
And while we’re on the subject, why is his mustache so damn sexy?
It shouldn’t be. It should look like there’s a caterpillar stuck to his face.
But no. He just looks effortlessly cool and undeniably hot.
Great. I’m probably staring at him, so I turn my gaze to the menu board above the cash register, even though I already know what I’m going to order.
I’ve decided to treat myself to a hazelnut mocha because I freaking deserve it, and also because I’m working the dinner shift tonight, so the tips should be pretty good.
Before I even rise from my chair, a tall, sandy-haired guy whose name tag reads Theo stops by our table and drops off to steaming mugs and a plate of muffins.
“I figured the hazelnut mocha was a safe bet,” Blue says, gesturing toward the drink.
“And these muffins are the stuff of legend. Plus, I didn’t get my customary French toast at brunch with my dad today, so this white chocolate raspberry muffin is going to have to do the trick.
” Plucking the muffin from the plate, he starts to peel away the wrapper, then suddenly stops.
“Unless you want it,” he amends, offering the treat to me.
“No thanks,” I say, reaching for the blueberry muffin instead. “This is perfect.”
For a few minutes, we eat and drink in relative silence. It’s definitely the longest span of time I’ve spent in his presence without arguing, and I have to admit, it’s nice. He’s nice. It’s weird, and I don’t know what to do about it.
“You okay, DeWalt?” he asks, popping the last bite of muffin into his mouth.
I’m about to lie and say everything is fine, but at the last second, my mouth opts for the truth. “This is crazy, right? I mean, it was great, but it would be ridiculous to keep going, right? We don’t even get along, so it was probably a terrible idea to begin with.”
Blue nabs another muffin and unwraps it before turning his attention on me.
“I’ll take those questions in order. First up, you want to know if this is crazy?
The answer is yes. Absolute batshit. Next up, you said it was great, and I agree with that, too.
Honestly, it was better than great. And I wouldn’t say we don’t get along,” he hedges, drawing out the word.
“But, yeah, we’re not exactly best friends.
And now you want to know if your proposal was a terrible idea?
Fine by me, but answer this first: did you like it? ”
I nod without even thinking. “Of course I did. I already told you it was great. Do you really need me to feed your ego that badly? Don’t answer that, because I already know you do. ”
“Guilty,” he admits. “Look, I’m going to be totally transparent here. You’re calling all the shots. If you want to keep going, we keep going. If you want to stop, we stop. It’s totally up to you.”
“I want to,” I blurt. “I do. But we need to set up some parameters,” I say, arching my brow in his direction. If he balks at this, I’m taking my fancy coffee and heading home.
But his posture remains relaxed. “Parameter away,” he says, threading his hands together behind his neck.
My arms are on the table, my hands folded in front of me as I look him in the eye. “We already agreed to be exclusive, and that’s non-negotiable.”
“Yeah,” he agrees easily. “And I’m on board. What else have you got for me, DeWalt?”
I clear my throat, because this is awkward to talk about. But it’s also necessary. “I know our arrangement is more about me than you,” I begin, my words stopping momentarily when his forehead creases.
“I’m no saint, Liza,” Blue says with a shake of his head. “I’m not doing this for brownie points or because I’ve got a hero complex or some shit. Believe me when I say that making you feel good is a huge turn on for me.”
I wait for him to elaborate, but when he doesn’t my brain flips to autopilot, making me sound as though I just finished a middle school health class.
“We have to use a condom if we ever…you know. Not that we have to have sex-sex with each other. We can just mess around, because, technically, that’s our deal.
But if we do decide to, uh, move in that direction, I insist on condoms. I’m on the pill, but it’s not perfect, and I’m a firm believer in backup. ”
“No argument from me one that one, either, Liza. Safety first, always. And I’m about to become a grandpa. I’m not interested in becoming a dad, too.”
“Good,” I say, glad we’re on the same page. “There’s another thing…no kissing.”
I swear this whole coffee shop falls silent as Blue processes my words. “No kissing? Like, anywhere?”
I can’t help the blush that stains my cheeks.
“There will be times and places and situations when your lips will be connected with parts of my body,” I concede.
“But your lips can’t touch mine. It feels too intimate, and I know that probably sounds crazy because of all the places your lips will be, but that’s a dealbreaker for me. ”
Blue’s quiet for a minute before nodding. “Got it. That probably covers everything, but if anything else crops up, I think we can handle it as long as we talk it out, you know?”
“Yes,” I agree. “Communication is key. But there is one more thing…no one else can know. If we do this—well, when we do this, we need to keep it quiet. People talk and rumors spread, and I can’t lose my job or my housing just because we’re…doing things.”
“Then we keep it to ourselves,” he says easily. “No one has to know, if that’s the way you want it.”
“Yes, definitely,” I answer quickly. “But how? What are the logistics? Should we sync our schedules? Text each other? We can’t exactly write it on the fridge calendar.”
Blue barks out a laugh. “Yeah, that would probably be a bad idea. I’m not saying we live with a bunch of geniuses, but I’m pretty sure all of our roommates could crack that code.
But I don’t feel like we need military-grade strategy, you know?
We can look at our schedules, see when we’re both free, and go from there. ”
“You make it sound so easy,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee.
I’ll never admit this out loud, but it really is better than the stuff I make at home.
Maybe it’s the whip cream or the thousand pumps of sweet syrup, I don’t know.
But this magical coffee crack makes me understand why this place is so popular. .
Blue shrugs, and the movement causes his long-sleeved tee to crease around those muscular arms that had a starring role in last night’s fantasies.
“It’s not really that complicated. Look, I know I agreed that our arrangement is a little batshit, but that’s only because you and I aren’t exactly besties. That’s really the only crazy part.”
I must look skeptical, but Blue keeps talking. “I’m serious. Hear me out. We’re on a college campus, Liza. How many people are giving or receiving orgasms right now?”
I blink. “How should I know?”
“The number isn’t zero. I can tell you that much. And do you think all those people are in long-term relationships?”
“Probably not,” I answer.
Blue nods. “Do you think that some of those people don’t even know the last name of the person they’re with right now? And I’m not judging, honest. I’m just asking.”
I sigh, because I hate it when he’s right. “Okay, you’ve made your point. We’re in college. There are no strings. And we know each other’s first and last names, so we get bonus points for that, I guess?”
“Exactly. Five bonus points to you, Liza Jane DeWalt,” he says, tearing into the last muffin. When he catches me staring open-mouthed at him, he mutters a curse. “Shit. Did you want some of this?” he offers, tearing the muffin in two.
“No. How do you know my middle name?”
Blue looks at me like I’m the crazy one in this scenario. “It’s in the hockey program. Stop looking at me like I’m a creeper. I swear I’m not trying to steal your identity. Mine’s Leonard, by the way. You know, if you want to even the playing field.”
I can’t help but crack a smile. “Grover Leonard Halliday, huh?”
“It’s one of the many reasons I go by Blue.”
“Does anybody actually call you by your first name?” I ask, because I’m curious. This might be the first normal conversation Blue and I have ever had, and while that’s wild, It’s also kind of nice.
“Everyone everywhere calls me Blue, and they have since I was about four years old. It’s even under my picture in my high school yearbook.
There is one exception to that rule though, and that’s my dad.
I’m named after his grandfather, so that’s probably why he insists on calling me Grover, but I always wondered if it has more to do with the fact that I prefer being called Blue.
And that he prefers to do things his way, regardless of what anyone else thinks. ”
I take another sip of coffee, digesting his words. He says them playfully, but there’s an edge behind them. It doesn’t bother me, but it must bother him, because he shakes his head and changes the subject.
“So…about this list…” He starts, the corners of his mouth bending upward in a smile. “Is it like a menu? Or a map? Maybe an all-you-can-eat buffet? And yes, that pun is intended.”
I blush as laughter bubbles out of me. “It’s more of a word bank, I think.
It’s like a list of choices. I don’t have to check off every item.
But if the answer is, you know, orgasm,” I say, lowering my voice on that last word so I’m not shouting in the middle of Drip, “then the items on the list are potential questions.”
“That makes sense. Do you have any favorite items? Ones you’re dying to answer?”
I know he’s being flirty, but I consider his question and answer it truthfully. “There are some things I’ve never even heard of. I can’t pronounce them and I definitely don’t want to do them. But yeah, there are a few I find intriguing. I made notes in the margin.”
“Can I borrow your notes?” he asks, wagging his eyebrows. The effect is goofy, not sexy, but it works for him.
“You can’t keep them, but you can look at them when we meet up this week,” I say, unable to find exactly the right words to describe what we’re doing.
Before I start rambling and listing off a bunch of euphemisms, I’m saved by the bell.
My phone alarm chimes, letting me know it’s time to head to my job at The Gatehouse.
“I’ve got to go,” I say, pointing at the time. “But we’ll be in touch, right?”
“Damn right we will,” he teases playfully, giving me an exaggerated wink.
It’s a good thing he finished off the muffins, or I’d be tempted to throw one of them at him.
Honestly, though, his ridiculousness doesn’t bother me quite as much as it used to.
I’ll deny this to my very last breath, but I’m starting to like how relaxed and unserious he can be.
I know, I know. I used to hate that about him, but it makes what we’re doing a lot less awkward. For that I’m grateful.