Chapter 27
Blue
Liza: My lab ended early, so I’m studying in the library. Feel free to join me
Blue: If I join you, we won’t be studying. At least, not our schoolwork.
Liza: Maybe you won’t be, but I have more self control than that.
Blue: Do you?
Liza: Come to the library and find out.
I’m so damn tempted to pull my ass off this couch and meet Liza at the library.
But I’m also fucking exhausted. We got back from our road trip at three this morning because storms on the East Coast wreaked havoc with our flight schedule.
I barely slept once we finally made it home and I’m about five minutes away from crashing.
I really could use the extra time hitting the books, but what I said to Liza was true.
If I go to the library, I won’t be studying.
I haven’t seen her in three days, and yes, I know exactly how pathetic that sounds, but I don’t care.
Spending so much time with Liza in the past month or so has created a need within me that I was barely aware of.
I’ve carved out a place fir her in my heart and mind and the more I get, the more I want.
But what I need right now is sleep. So, reluctantly, I scoop up my phone and tap out a message.
Blue: Any chance you’ll want to not study at the library tomorrow? I’m beat, and if I don’t try to catch up on sleep, my ass will be toast at practice tomorrow.
Liza: I will happily study (or not study) with you at any time. Get some rest and maybe we can hang out later tonight?
After pressing a heart sticker onto Liza’s text, I lie back and close my eyes.
I’m just about to drift off when Hazel bumps my hand with her head.
She’s spurring me into action, one furry head butt at a time, but I can’t deny her affection.
Not only is she the bestest kitty in the whole wide world, she’s about to make me a proud cat grandpa.
That means she can have all the snuggles her little feline heart desires.
Our cuddle sesh lasts a good ten minutes, which might just be a world record.
After she settles into the farthest corner of the bed, I close my eyes again and try like hell to get back to that glorious just-about-to-fall-asleep, but it’s no use.
The ship to dreamland has sailed and my sorry ass is sitting on the shore.
My phone buzzes with a text and I smile. Liza can’t resist me. She’s got to be sitting in the library all by her lonesome right now, and in dire need of a study partner. Palming my phone, I pull up the new message. But it isn’t from Liza.
Dad: Jim Selkirk and I are meeting for dinner and drinks tonight. You should join us. The place he picked is close to your campus, and I think he’s bringing Kent along.
I groan out loud because the only thing worse than dinner with my dad is dinner with my dad and various members of the Selkirk family. Kent’s a douchebag, and his father is made from the same mold as my own.
Dad: See you in an hour? It’ll be good for you to start networking. Jim and his wife are having an anniversary party on Sunday, so if tonight doesn’t work for you, we could meet up then. There are several people on their guest list I’d like to re-introduce you to.
Dammit. As much as I want to skip this dinner, it’s preferable to a whole-ass party.
Plus, if I go tonight, I’ll be off the hook for a few more weeks, which translates to quality time with Liza and my teammates.
And there’s no way I’d consider bringing Liza along to one of our father-and-son lunches.
Hell no. She’d leave my ass in a hurry after spending an hour with my dad.
He’s obnoxious and entitled and she’d hate him on sight.
It’s definitely best if those two don’t meet, and that’s another reason I’m dragging myself out of bed and into the shower right now.
Because he’s paying my tuition, my room and board, and my credit card bills, I don’t have the luxury of skipping out when he requests my presence.
But I can keep Liza far away from him, especially if I pay my dues by showing up to dinner tonight. It’s a win-win.
I don’t even bother to ask about the dress code because my ad isn’t the type to dine at a casual restaurant.
I wear one of my gameday suits without the tie, and I swap the collared shirt for a crewneck.
Such a rebel. There’s no doubt Liza would be laughing her ass off if she could see me right now, but she’s still at the library, studiously finishing her work.
My dad sent me the location and it’s not until I pull into the parking lot that I realize I’m at The Gatehouse.
I’ve never actually eaten here before, but I’ve snagged some of the food that Liza’s brought home after a shift, so at least I know I’ll be eating well tonight.
For half a second, I consider sending her a selfie of me posing at the entrance to the restaurant and asking if she wants me to bring something back for her, but she’s busy studying, so I decide not to bug her.
There are a few people milling around the lobby, but I spot my dad’s balding head in the dining room and move in that direction. That's where I get the surprise of my life.
Kent Selkirk isn’t joining us tonight.
But his sister, Peyton, is.
After greeting my dad and Mr. Selkirk, I take the empty seat next to Peyton since it’s the only available one at our table.
Well, this is awkward. It shouldn’t be too bad, though.
She was a year behind me in school so we know a lot of the same people.
We can swap boring stories about who’s dating who and who dropped out of college while our dads talk shop.
It’s not my ideal Tuesday night, but I can handle a few hours of this.
I take that back. No, I can’t. I’ve been here for five minutes and I’m ready to leave.
No eggplant parm on the planet is good enough to put up with this bullshit.
Mr. Selkirk was either drinking at the bar for an hour before I arrived or he’s got a flask in his pocket.
The guy’s tanked already and we haven’t even ordered drinks yet.
Nobody else seems to care, though. My dad’s bitching that we haven’t seen our server yet and Peyton is too busy pawing at my arm to notice that her dad smells like a liquor cabinet.
“Do they custom-make your uniforms?” she asks, sounding more like a baby than a twenty-year-old woman.
I don’t remember her voice being this high pitched or nasally, but I never really paid much attention to Peyton or her brother, so who knows?
Maybe she always sounded like she had a cold and then sucked in a bunch of helium. “Your muscles are really big.”
“Uh, they take our measurements, and find the jersey that fits,” I say, though I honestly have no idea exactly how it works. Liza would know, of course. I just put on whatever is hanging in my cubby.
“Where the hell is our waitress?” my dad grouses, looking around like he’ll be able to tell which person in black pants and a white button down is assigned to our table.
“It’s fine,” I tell him, pinching the bridge of my nose because I can already feel a headache coming on. “The hostess already stopped by to tell us they’re short staffed tonight. They had to call people in, so I’m sure someone will take our order soon.”
“Why couldn’t the hostess take the damn drink order?
She works here, doesn’t she? How difficult is it to get a few drinks from the bar?
And where’s our bread? Places like this used to give you a basket of bread as soon as you sat down,” Dad grumbles, still scanning the room like he’s about to sniff out our server and pull them out of their super secret hiding place.
I follow my dad’s line of sight and see the hostess pointing in our direction.
Is it too much to ask that the restaurant is full and they don’t have enough servers to accommodate our party?
And then we all have to go home and pretend this weird little dinner party never got started. Sounds reasonable to me.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t magically happen.
Predictably, the dinner continues just the way it started.
My dad continues his bitching, Peyton keeps ogling me, and Mr. Selkirk clumsily reaches for one of the water glasses on the table.
He doesn’t succeed in picking it up, which is a shame, because the guy should definitely be hydrating.
Instead, he knocks it over and the water splashes all over Peyton’s shirt.
Her lip starts to tremble and for a second, I’m afraid she’s going to burst into tears.
That’s the last thing we need on this shit sundae of a dinner.
But before any tears can fall from her eyes and risk streaking mascara down her face, a lightbulb seems to go off in her brain as she turns to me with a sad smile.
“It’s so cold in here,” she says, suddenly starting to shiver. “Do you think I could borrow your jacket?”
“Uh, yeah,” I stammer. “I guess so.” I don’t really need it because it is not, in fact, cold in this restaurant, and I’ve got a long-sleeved crew on, so it’s not like I’m sitting here bare-chested.
I peel the jacket from my body and help her drape it over her shoulders.
It looks ridiculous on her, but she seems happy as she wraps the fabric around her body like a blanket.
“Mmmm,” she practically purrs. “All better.”
I open my mouth to tell her it’s no problem, but I don’t manage to get the words out because I’m frozen in a state of shock.
Everything happens all at once, like some awful, slow-motion horror movie.
First, Peyton leans up and presses a big, wet kiss to my cheek. The move is both unnecessary and unwanted, but I stay frozen in time because something even worse than a slimy, unsolicited kiss is happening right now.
Liza’s standing at our table in black pants, a white button down, and a clean white apron. Her long brown hair is pulled up in some complicated bun-braid thing, and the only makeup on her beautiful face is lip balm.
She’s not supposed to be here right now.
I’m not supposed to be here right now.
But the look on her face tells me this reality, and not a nightmare, no matter how much I wish it were.
Somehow, we manage to place our orders, though I’ve got no clue what’s actually going to end up on my plate when it’s served to me.
Between the fact that Peyton ordered it for me, and Liza’s the one running to the kitchen, I could be getting a serving of deep fried squid rolled in first with a side of rosemary potatoes for dinner.
I feel like I’m on a runaway train bound for hell and there’s no brake. Unable to stand any more of Peyton’s inane conversation, Mr. Selkirk’s slurred words, or my dad’s complaints, I excuse myself from the table to use the restroom.
It only takes a minute of lurking by the kitchen door to spot Liz. Her eyes narrow when she sees me and I can feel the annoyance roll off her in waves.
“How was your nap?” she asks, smoothing out a non-existent wrinkle in her apron.
I rub the back of my neck as I wince. “ I tried to sleep, but then—”
“But then you decided it would be much more fun to go on a date?”
“It’s not a date,” I say. There’s no one I’d rather be with tonight—or any night—than Liza.
“Does she know that?” Liza asks. “Because your dinner companion looks pretty cozy wearing your jacket and snuggling up to you like you’re her favorite stuffed animal.”
“It’s not like that,” I say, shaking my head. “She’s only wearing my jacket because she got water on her shirt. I know it probably looks bad, but it’s not that deep—”
“It’s not that deep, huh?” Liza returns. “Good to know.” She pushes off the wall, grabs an empty tray, and heads back into the kitchen.
I hang my head because I totally fucked that up, but there’s still time to recover.
At least, I keep thinking there will be, but every time Liza returns to our table, she’s frosty as hell.
I don’t blame her. This is an awkward situation, and we’re not an easy crew to manage.
My dad actually snapped at her to get her attention and all three of my dining companions have returned a side dish or main course because it wasn’t cooked to their liking.
There’s nothing wrong with the food, they just like being pains in the ass.
I’m going to need to do some major groveling when I get home tonight because this is bad.
My dad's treating Liza the way he treats all waitstaff, which is to say, fucking awful.
And Peyton is all the fuck over me like an octopus with tentacles.
But once I explain, it's going to be fine.
Liza knows how I feel about her even if I never said the words.
She has to know. And someday, we'll look back at this and laugh—haha, remember that time we were dating, and I was in love with you but too much of a coward to admit it, and then my dad set me up on the date from hell and you were our waitress? Haha. Remember that? Good times.