Chapter 29 Blue
Blue
Liza leaves the room and takes my heart right along with her. There’s a moment of silence as she walks away, like we’re having a funeral for my common fucking sense. I’m such a dumbass, and as soon as Liza’s out of earshot, the guys all clamor around, eager to tell me just how badly I fucked up.
Do they think I don’t know that already? I feel like utter shit because I just blew up the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t think there’s anything I can do to fix it.
Liza’s words keep ringing in my head. Some things just break.
She’s right, and I hate it. I can’t buy my way out of this.
It isn’t going to make a difference if I send her flowers or give her a pretty piece of jewelry.
Not even a new vibrator will make this go away.
I can’t bring home her favorite pizza or tease her out of her grumpy mood.
There’s no prank to pull that’s going to make her laugh and no sexy item to tick off a checklist and distract us from our problem.
I fucked up big time, and it’s beyond repair.
I don’t even bother listening to the guys as they talk over each other to offer unsolicited advice.
None of it is going to help me get Liza back, so it doesn’t matter.
I’m so damn pissed at myself I could scream, but that won’t help.
I had just started to break past her walls and earn her trust, and then one stupid night ruined everything.
As her boyfriend, my job was to protect her from the pain and the heartache the world throws at us.
Instead, I inflicted more pain than anyone else ever has.
The look on her face tonight gutted me, and that’s what has me walking away from my friends and heading for the basement.
I’m going to lick my wounds and drown my sorrows in whatever alcohol Ollie’s got stashed down here. It’s not a great plan, but it’s my plan, and I’m sticking to it.
“I found him.”
“Did he puke yet?”
“Where are his pants?”
I hear people talking, but none of them are Liza, so I ignore them and pull the blanket back over my head. But it’s too small. It’s just a tiny little blanket. Too tiny. Why do I have a tiny blanket? Is it Hazel’s? Is it for one of the kitties? Am I a blanket thief and a terrible grandfather?
“Jesus Christ. He’s gonna suffocate himself with that damn hood. Stand back, boys. You know he’s like Mt. Vesuvius when he drinks. Vomit could start spewing at any second.”
The dulcet tones of my best friend’s rumbly voice register in brain, followed swiftly by his words. Oh, shit. He’s right. I’m gonna throw up. As soon as I get this teeny tiny little blanket off my face.
“Hold still, and—damn.”
I don’t even open my eyes as I reach for the cold porcelain of the toilet bowl. It’s a good thing my body knows to pass out on the bathroom floor because I’d never make it here in time otherwise.
When I’m done emptying the contents of my stomach, I take the towel that’s being offered to me and wipe my face. I look up to see Dutton and Leo standing in the doorway. My best buddy hands me a toothbrush and some toothpaste while Leo holds out a sports drink.
Angels, these two.
I take a minute to clean myself up and gratefully accept the clean hoodie that Dutton brought down.
This is probably his fifty-seventh vomit rodeo with me, so he knows the drill.
I don’t know what happened to my sweatpants, but at least I’m still wearing my boxers.
When I’m looking and feeling almost half human, I pad out to the main room of the basement.
The bar is littered with a few empty beer cans and half a bottle of tequila, but I don’t let my gaze linger on those or I’ll end up back in the bathroom from flashbacks alone.
It’s happened before. I shuffle over to the couches and plop my ass down on an empty space.
Dutton and Leo are still here, but so are Mickey and Ollie.
It’s like an intervention, but it isn’t necessary.
I already know I fucked up. I recall in excruciating detail every stupid thing I said and did last night, so I don’t need my friends to give me a play-by-play.
“You guys don’t need to say anything. I’m an idiot, I know. I’ll move out so it isn’t awkward.”
My announcement is met with silence, and I’ve gotta admit, that stings a little. I figured at least Sparky would protest. Finding a new place to live is at the top of the to-do list I’ve just started creating in my mind.
“So dramatic,” Dutton finally says, breaking the silence.
“Where the hell are you moving to?” Ollie asks. “And why?”
I shrug because I literally hatched this plan ten seconds ago, and to be honest, I’m still a little drunk.
“Bridgette’s room,” I say, as the answer magically appears in my brain.
“She doesn’t really use it anymore, and it’s close to campus and the athletic center.
It’s perfect. Plus, Bridgette loves me. Well, she might hate me after she talks to Liza, but that’s all the more reason for her to want me out of here. ”
“You can’t leave,” Mickey squawks. Jeez. Is the guy always this loud?
“It’s the right thing to do,” I tell him. “This is Liza’s home, too, plus she manages the house. It’d be a total dick move if I made her find a new place to live.”
“What the hell happened last night?” Ollie asks.
“Dude, where were you?” Mickey asks him. “I think the guys from the LAX house a few streets over heard the meltdown. It was rough. Blue and Liza broke up because—”
“You broke up?” Ollie asks, directing the question, and his disappointment, at me. “You two literally just got together. I haven’t even framed the pictures from your first date yet. You need to fix this.”
“There’s no fixing it,” I tell him.
“Well, you better find a way,” Mickey interjects. “You can’t move out. You’re about to be a grandpa. Yeah, Doug and I are here for Hazel, but you can’t just leave her in her hour of need.”
Oh, shit. He’s right. Hazel’s due to have her kittens next week. “I’ll visit,” I assure him. “And I’ll be back for the birth. I’ll just crash at Bridgette’s every night and in between classes so Liza doesn’t have to see me. Well, except for practices and games, but I can’t really help that.”
“You’re giving up?” Ollie asks, his eyes going wide.
“I wasn’t around for the blow up last night since Fallon and I were celebrating our four month anniversary.
It’s a few days early, but we’ve got a game Friday night.
Anyway, I don’t know what your dumb ass did, but you need to adjust your attitude, son, and get your girl back. ”
“I wish it was that easy,” I say, running my hands through my hair. “But Liza made it clear last night that we’re over. She wants nothing to do with me, and I have to respect that.”
Dutton stands and stretches before moving over to the bar area and cleaning up my mess.
"We've been friends for almost twenty years, Grover,” he says, using my given name for the first time since we were in preschool. “I’ve seen you make some questionable decisions. I watched you wrestle a goat once. I know you’re not a genius, but I never thought you were a quitter. ”
“That goat was wily,” I say, recalling the time I tried to take on the mascot from a rival school. “And if you remember, I lost that battle. I’m going to lose this one, too. And I’m not quitting. I’m acknowledging defeat. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” Ollie asks. “Because that just sounds like something a quitter would say.”
I look over to Leo, who’s been quiet this whole time. That’s not out of the ordinary for him, though. He’s probably wondering how to make his escape without any of us realizing it. He’s a damn good hockey player, but social situations are not his favorite.
I unscrew the cap of the sports drink he brought me—and he chose the blue flavor because he knows what’s up—and take a few sips. I don’t want to overdo it, but I’m thirsty as fuck.
Instead of leaving the room or telling us he’s got class, Leo turns toward me and studies me for a second.
“Look, I’m no relationship expert,” he begins, “but have you thought about talking to Liza before you move all your shit out of the house? And I’m all for respecting boundaries, so if she tells you to fuck off, then that’s definitely what you should do, but don’t you think you should try apologizing first?
I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop last night, but you two were loud, so I couldn’t help overhearing your argument.
You gave a lot of excuses and reasons. You tried telling your side of the story, but you never actually apologized.
I’m just thinking that might be a good place to start. ”
Ollie lets out a whoop as he fist bumps the air. “Baby Santos with the truth bomb! That’s how it’s done!”
“I don’t really think it’s a truth bomb,” Leo says. “It’s just common sense.”
“Common sense is something Blue’s in short supply of these days,” Dutton says, taking the seat beside me and handing me a protein bar.
Who knows where it came from, but I’m suddenly starving, so I take a bite, and then another.
I’m not sure why, but this protein bar is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten, so I practically gobble it whole.
“All right,” Ollie says, clapping his hands together. “So, what’s the plan? You need to apologize first, obviously, but then how are you going to win Liza back? We need to think of something. I don’t think anybody’s hired a skywriter, have they? That could work.”
While he scrolls through his phone and looks for bright ideas, I finish off my blue juice.
And immediately regret it.
I lunge for the bathroom and make it just in time for the second round of spilling my guts.
I don’t think there’s a chance in hell that Liza will take me back, but even if there is, strategy sessions will have to wait until I’m done doing the technicolor yawn.
Damn those fairies.