Chapter 21 Blue
Blue
Liza walks into the living room, a coffee mug in one hand and her phone in the other. “How what starts?” she asks, frowning down at her screen instead of looking at me.
“My descent into madness,” I answer. A laugh bubbles out of her, but I’m not really joking.
This past week has given me a glimpse of what my life will be in a little over a year, and I can sum it up on one word: depressing.
I’ve always known hockey is an outlet for me.
It’s not just the sport I play or something I’m good at.
It makes me feel alive; it gives me purpose.
In the not-so-distant future, my purpose in life will be crunching numbers and sealing deals, and I am really not looking forward to it.
This isn’t the only injury I’ve ever had, and it’s certainly not the worst. A sprained ankle is nothing compared to a broken collarbone, but that was way back in my freshman year of high school.
I thought that not playing for the last six weeks of the season was an unimaginably cruel form of torture, but now that my hockey career is soon coming to a close, being out for one week is far worse.
I feel disconnected, unmoored. And I hate it.
“I’ve never been this bored before in my whole life.
The last time I was this sedentary was when I was an infant,” I say, pointing down at my ankle, which is propped up on a stack of pillows at the edge of the recliner—the same one my ass has been glued to for a week now.
Liza laughs at me again, and again, I feel the need to defend myself. “I’m serious. And I’m pretty sure I was sick and tired of it then, too. I think I started walking early because just lying around looking cute as hell is boring as fuck.”
“Poor Blue,” Liza croons, mocking me. “It must be so hard to be so handsome and not be able to strut your shit all over campus so people can admire you.”
“Thank you for finally understanding the weight of the burden I carry,” I grumble, crossing my arms. “And, to twist the knife a little deeper, you’re abandoning me in my hour of need.
When you go to work, I’ll be here all alone.
And yeah, I know Hazel’s home, but ever since Mickey let Doug Fucking Tittles in the house, Hazel’s been ignoring me,” I say, fully aware that I’m pouting and not giving a damn.
“I’m not, though,” she says, huffing out a sigh and setting her phone down on the end table.
“Huh?” I ask, not following her train of thought.
“I’m not working today. I’m on the schedule, but I just got a text from my manager saying that a pipe burst at The Gatehouse early this morning.
They don’t think the damage is going to be too bad, but they’ll be closed the rest of the day for sure.
So, my schedule is wide open. I can sit here and watch mind-numbing TV with you all weekend. ”
Liza doesn’t seem thrilled at the prospect, but I’m not taking it personally because TV really does suck. Although, since we’re here alone, I doubt we’ll be watching television all weekend. I waggle my brows at her. “I’m sure we can find something else to do.”
“You’re injured!” she says, pointing toward my foot.
“I’ve got a sprained ankle, not a broken dick. And let me remind you that I was fully capable of getting you off the other night. You weren’t complaining when you were riding my face like a rodeo champ, were you? Is that what all the moans and gasps were?”
She tosses a pillow at my head, but I catch it before it makes contact. “I’ve got a boot now,” I tell her. “I’m good to go, and they’re just being cautious because Regionals are coming up. I killed it at physical therapy yesterday, and Dan said I’ll be cleared to practice soon.”
“Skating is not the same as sex,” she replies, taking a sip of her coffee.
“My point exactly!” I say, pumping my fist in the air like I’ve achieved a major victory. “My ankle is not a major player in sexual activities. So…”
“Okay, may be we can check a few things off the list, but we can’t have sex all day long!” Liza protests, readying another pillow for launch.
“Have I taught you nothing?” I ask, my voice incredulous. “Of course we can. It’s why weekends were invented.”
Liza rolls her eyes at me. “Okay, let’s say that I believe you and that you are cleared for light physical duty,” she begins. “I don’t think that means a twenty-four hour sex marathon.”
“I’m pretty sure it does,” I tell her, taking a swig of my water. If sex is anywhere near the table, I need to stay hydrated.
“Well, I don’t believe you, because you’re a lust-crazed liar.”
“I am lust-crazed,” I admit, not bothering to wipe the smile from my face.
“But I’m also almost back to normal. My ankle is healing well enough that I should get the boot off Monday, and I can’t freaking wait.
But look, if you’re not up for a sex-a-thon, if you don’t think you can handle it, then just enjoy your day off.
Go do something nice for yourself. Get a massage or a pedicure or whatever you do to pamper yourself. ”
Liza rolls her eyes at me. She does it all the time, but the look on her face right now tells me I’m a special kind of idiot.
I have no clue what’s so damn wrong about suggesting that she treat herself on an unexpected day off, but it doesn’t matter.
I know without a doubt that she’s going to tell me in four, three, two, one…
“Pamper myself? Have we even met?” she asks, her brows rising up to meet her hairline.
“We are intimately acquainted,” I remind her, batting away the throw pillow she lobs at me. “That’s how I know you need to do something nice for yourself. You literally never take a break. When you’re not working one job, you’re on your way to another. It’s got to be exhausting.”
“Did you ever stop to think there’s a reason that I work multiple jobs? That maybe everyone’s living expenses aren’t bankrolled by their parents?”she asks, clearly exasperated. “That we don’t all have a magic trust fund that’s going to pay for grad school?”
“I know that,” I say, attempting to defend myself. “I get that you have to work, and I admire the hell out of you for it, but I still think you should treat yourself a little on your day off. You always seem so stressed, like you’re waiting for the other shoe to fall.”
“Uh, yeah,” Liza says to me, like she’s explaining a simple concept to a small child. “That’s because I am.”
I start shaking my head before she finishes her sentence. “That’s so much wasted energy. Just enjoy the moment when you can. And today is one of those days, tomorrow too. The patron saint of burst pipes has seen fit to give you a break, so I say you take it.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Liza asks, staring at me like I've got two heads. They’re both handsome, so I can’t really blame her. “Your privilege is so damn loud right now, I can barely think straight.”
“Not everything is about money, though,” I say, getting a little frustrated that she can’t see things from my perspective. “You could paint your nails at home or run a bubble bath.”
“Thank you for suggesting things I never would have thought of myself. How can I ever repay your wisdom?” she deadpans.
“You say everything isn’t about money, but it kinda is.
Hear me out,” she says, putting her hand up to stop the stream of works that were about to roll off my tongue.
“I’m saying your confidence comes from the safety net that’s always been a barrier between you and the ground.
Sometimes it’s money, yeah, but sometimes it’s your family or the fact that any day-to-day mistakes you make are probably not going to dramatically affect the trajectory of your life. ”
“Okay,” I concede, because the trajectory of my life is already set and though it’s not the future I’d pick for myself, it’s a pretty nice one, so I have no business complaining.
“I see where you’re going with this. My folks and their bank account can get me out of any jam I find myself in, and yeah, you’re probably right.
But that’s not the only way to support someone.
Hell, if we’re counting friends, you’ve got more support on this team than I do.
I get along with everyone, but any one of the guys would go to bat for you if you needed it. ”
“The guys are the best,” she agrees, and I ignore the twinge in my chest that’s a little perturbed she didn’t include me in that group.
“I’ve made great friends through the hockey team, and even in my classes,” Liza continues.
“If my car broke down, Fallon or Bridgette would drive me around, yeah. But it would definitely cause my day-to-day life to be harder. All I’m saying is my safety net’s a little thinner than yours.
So when I put up my defenses, there’s a reason for it.
The sky has fallen a couple times, so pardon me if I’m always looking up, checking to see if it’s about to tumble down on me again. ”
“It won’t,” I vow. “Not when I’m around.
” Liza opens her mouth to protest and I wish like hell that I could leap across our two sofas and press my finger to her lips.
I want Liza to know that she doesn’t just have the guys on the team or her girl crew.
She has me. “And if the sky does fall, I’ll buy you an umbrella and whisk you off to the safety of my much thicker net.
You said my net was thick, right? Like, the thickest. Probably the biggest, too, right? You like my net. I know you do.”
I’m wagging my brows at her again, and she’s laughing at my antics. This is much safer territory. I hate to see her so stressed, and if I can alleviate that with my ridiculous comments, then I’m sure as hell going to do it.
“Oh my god. Is sex always on your mind?” she asks, still giggling.
“Pretty much,” I admit. “Especially when I’m in close proximity to a very sexy equipment manager.”
Liza swats me playfully as she takes a seat on the arm of my recliner. “If you ever refer to your cock as a safety net or comment on its thickness again, I’m going to my room, getting that damned reindeer vibrator out of my closet, and taking care of business myself.”
I smile at her. “That’s not the threat you think it is.”
She swats me again, but this time, I catch her hand and hold onto it. “I’ve got a brilliant idea. You have the day off, and I will lose my damn mind if I stay in this house for much longer. So grab your shoes, Tiger. We’re going on a field trip.”
“Where?” she asks skeptically as I strap my foot into my air cast and reach for my lone sneaker.
“Like I said before, that reindeer vibe has got to go. So, that means we’re going shopping. There’s a place downtown that sells—”
“I’m not going vibrator shopping with you,” Liza says, like I haven’t had my lips wrapped around her pussy.
“And if I were to go,” she continues, “it wouldn’t be at a shop downtown.
I could run into someone from class. Or one of my professors.
Or a parent of the kids I babysit in the summer. Or a regular from the restaurant.”
“Fine,” I agree, scrolling through my phone and tapping when I find what I’m looking for. “I found a place that’s a little over an hour away. Think that’s safe?”
Liza shrugs. “I guess, but—”
“Great,” I say, hoisting myself up off the couch. “We ride in five. And you’re driving, obviously,” I say, pointing to my right foot in all its air cast glory.
“This is what I’m talking about,” Liza says, sighing. “Not everyone can just take off on a road trip with no thought for gas money and go one the hunt for something they don’t actually need. Vibrators aren’t cheap.”
“I know,” I say, even though I’ve never given a second's thought to the price of sex toys. “And I know I’ve got more privilege than most,” I tell her, reaching into the bowl on the side table and fishing for my keys.
I toss them to Liza and smile as she catches them.
“But today, so do you. Now come on, we need to hit the road. What if we get there late and all the good ones are gone?”