Chapter 19 Blue
Blue
“What the hell are you doing here?” Liza asks, startling me so much that I nearly choke on my smoothie.
“I live here,” I remind her, clearing my throat and taking a breath.
Liza stands before me, hands on her hips and eyes pointed skyward. “I’m aware of your address, Blue. But you should be in class right now. You have Film Studies for the next…forthy-three minutes. If you hustle, you can probably—”
“First of all,” unable to hold back the cocky grin that spreads across my face, “I can’t decide if it’s creepy or adorable that you know my schedule. I’m going with adorable. You like to keep tabs on me. That’s precious.”
She rolls her eyes yet again. Maybe she should get that checked out? I’ll keep that thought to myself for now, though, because I value my balls and I don’t want Liza suddenly deciding to chop them off. We are in the kitchen, so the threat level is substantial.
“I don’t keep tabs on you,” she assures me. “But a few hours ago, you were bitching about having to go to that class after lunch, and since I can read a damn clock, I know that’s where you are supposed to be right now.”
Liza’s height is average at best, so I’ve got nearly a foot on her, and I’m sure I outweigh her by at least eighty pounds.
But right now, I'm truly worried that she’s going to grab me by the back of my collar and haul my ass out the door.
“Class was canceled,” I say in a rush to save my hide.
“The professor sent a message saying he’s got the flu and he’ll see us all on Tuesday.
I’ll be sure to notify you the next time there’s any slight change in my schedule. ”
Liza nods, seemingly mollified, then fills up her water bottle at the sink before joining me at the table. “Well, I guess if the professor canceled class, you don’t technically have to be there,” she says on a dramatic sigh. “So, what are you going to do with your bonus hour?”
“You,” I answer honestly. “Check your phone. I sent you a text less than ten minutes ago asking if you were home and wanted to hang out. If you’re busy, it’s no big deal. But if you’re free, I figure we could work on that checklist I love so much.”
Liza looks around the empty kitchen and then at her watch. “Dutton and Leo usually get home around the same time you do, so I guess the coast is clear for a little while longer. Should we head back to my room?”
“We can,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “But isn’t there something on that list about having sex and almost getting caught? I haven’t actually committed the whole thing to memory yet, but I swear there’s something about getting down and dirty in a public place.”
Liza blushes, and I’ve come to expect that. When the topic of sex enters the conversation, her cheeks turn red. But that’s not what has my attention right now. That honor goes to her eyes and the way they light up like it’s the freaking Fourth of July.
“What sort of public place are you proposing?” she asks, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.
“We can go to Drip if that’s what you really want,” I tell her.
Getting Liza off is more than worth getting kicked out of the campus coffee shop, not that I’m planning on getting caught.
“But I was thinking we’d work up to actual public spaces.
I figured we should test the waters a little, see if the possibility of getting caught appeals to you.
So, I was thinking this kitchen table would work just fine. ”
“You want to have sex on the kitchen table?” she asks, like it’s the craziest thing I’ve ever suggested. “Deano will kill us if we get any stains on this table cloth. He made it in Fiber Arts and he’s very proud of it.”
“Oh, I’m aware. I was there when he picked out the fabric online.
You wouldn’t think there’d be a huge selection of fabric with chickens on it, but you’d be wrong.
” Deano is exceptionally pleased with his “Cock of the Walk” table cloth even though it’s just a big ass circle of fabric with a sewn edge.
It’s fucking lopsided and it hangs all the way to the floor, but he acts like Pottery Barn is going to ask him to design a custom line of linens next spring.
“And you still want to use the cock tablecloth as a fitted sheet? And this oak table as a bed?”
I stroke my mustache for a second because I know she secretly loves it. “I’m comfortable right here in this chair. But if you want me to spread you out on the table, say the fucking word, Tiger.”
Liza raises an eyebrow. “You think you can work your magic from a chair?”
“I know I can,” I answer with confidence.
“Oh, really? And let me guess, you think I’m just magically ready for you? That the mere suggestion of a sexual encounter with you has flooded my panties? Just sitting down next to you for two minutes has me soaked and aching for you?”
God, I love it when she’s feisty. And she’s feisty all the fucking time, so I’m a happy man. “If you’re not now, you will be soon.”
My arrogance drives her crazy, so she crosses her legs and then her arms. I’m not sure she set out to fold herself up like a pretzel, but it doesn’t matter.
“I don’t need to touch you to get you ready for me.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m dying to put my hands on you, but first, I want to ask you something. ”
Liza’s eyes are narrowed as she tries to puzzle out where I’m going with this. “Your sex study is through the Psych department, right?” I ask.
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, if you’ve worked with the Psych department, I figure you’ve taken a few psychology classes, too?”
“Just the intro course that fulfills a humanities requirement,” she answers, wrapping her lips around her straw. I know she’s doing that because that's how you drink from a straw, but it’s also how you drive your sexual partner out of his goddamn mind, and Liza is using that to her advantage.
“That works. I need you to help me analyze this dream I had,” I say, stretching my legs out as I reach my arms up and fold my hands behind my head, giving her a prime view of my abs, the bare sliver of skin between my jeans and the edge of my t-shirt, and the outline of my hardening cock.
If Liza wants to play the slow seduction game, I’m on board.
“I am in no way qualified to do that,” she answers, her eyes trained on my midsection.
“You are uniquely qualified. In fact, you’re the only person who can help me.”
A laugh bubbles out of her pouty lips and I feel like I just won a national title all by myself. “I’m the only one who can help, huh? You make this sound like a desperate situation, and like the beginning of some sci-fi movie. And you know I’m not a fan of those.”
“You’re about to be a superfan,” I say, knowing my confidence both turns her on and pisses her off. “Now, listen up. I’m going to tell you what I dreamed about last night, and I need you to tell me what it means.”
Liza levels me with a look while she toys with one of her braids. “I’m probably going to refer you to a medical professional. And if this is some kind of pickup line or seduction tactic, I’m going to report you to the authorities. This is bad, Blue. So bad. Let me guess, it was a sex dream?”
“See? You’re already so good at this. You’re a natural, Liza. I know you were born to solve the infrastructure crisis, but you could make some serious bank by interpreting dreams.”
“I’ll consider it as a side hustle,” she says, glancing at her watch. “You do realize you’ve wasted nearly four minutes with this nonsense, right?”
“It’s not nonsense,” I argue. It totally is, but I’m of the firm belief that Liza DeWalt could use a little more nonsense in her life, and I’m here to help. “I almost died, Liza.”
“In your dream?”
“Yeah, I was hanging off the edge of a cliff,” I tell her, just making shit up as I go. She knows it and I know it, but that’s part of the fun. “I thought I was going to fall to my doom.”
“And then a woman walked by and offered you her magic pussy as a lifeline?” she guesses.
“Damn, that would have been convenient,” I quip. “But no. I held onto the ledge as long as I could and then my fingers started to slip. It was no use. I think my muscles are just too big and bulky. A guy my size doesn’t have a prayer in a situation like that.”
“This is such bullshit,” she giggles. “Wouldn’t your heaving muscles help lift you out of that situation?”
“The ones in my arms, yeah,” I agree, loving how her eyes track up my body. “But these thick thighs? My bubble butt? They are gifts and curses, Liza. The dump truck that is my ass ended up being my downfall. It’s just too juicy, too big. The edge of the cliff crumbled in my hands and then I fell.”
“That’s terrible,” she mocks, feigning a gasp.
“I thought so, too, until I landed in a field of daisies.”
“Did you hit your head when you fell? Because that would explain a lot.”
“No, the landing was soft,” I say, still making things up as I go. “So soft. It was fluffy and warm. Actually, now that I think about it, this field of daisies wasn’t a field at all. I landed in your sheets.”
“Wow. So lucky. Did I wad them up and strangle you with them?”
“You were about to,” I concede. “But I was able to convince you otherwise.”
“How did you manage that?” she asks skeptically.
“How else, Tiger? I put my mouth on you.”
“Where?” she asks, her voice betraying her eagerness.
“Your forehead first,” I answer, imagining us in her bed. We’ve been there at least a half dozen times now, but in my mind, we’re not in a rush. We’re not hiding anything. We’re waking up slowly and taking our time. “Then I kissed the tip of your nose.”
“This is so hot, keep going,” she deadpans.
“I did. That’s what got me to the column of your neck and across your collarbone. In my dream, you slept naked. I think you should try it in real life. It was a time saver.”
“Oh, yeah, because tearing off my nightshirt is so time consuming. And it probably puts a strain on those bulging muscles of yours.”