Chapter 31 Liza
Liza
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Blue enter the kitchen.
My first impulse is to leave. We’ve done a pretty good job of avoiding each other this past week.
Unfortunately, I can’t leave the room right now or else my pancakes will burn.
So, instead, I stare intently at the batter in my pan and wait for the bubbles to appear.
Then I will flip them. And plate them. And butter them. And eat them.
One foot in front of the other. That’s how I’ve been getting through this week from hell.
“Mind if I help myself to some coffee?” Blue asks, crossing the room and standing way too close to me. Also not nearly close enough.
I want to tell him that he can’t have any of my coffee, and that he should go to a store designed for the sole purpose of selling coffee if that’s the beverage he desires, but I can’t do it.
The guy looks exhausted, and I know it’s because Hazel gave birth to her kittens in the wee hours of the morning.
“Help yourself,” I answer, nodding my head toward the pot but not bothering to glance at the man who used to be my boyfriend.
You know, last week. For all of about five days.
That’s part of what’s so messed up about this whole situation. We were barely together before things fell apart, so why does it feel like Blue ripped my heart out and took it with him?
If I’m being honest with myself, it’s because my feelings for Blue didn’t start to become real when he won a silly carnival game. They didn’t materialize when he took me on a date. They’ve been building for weeks now, months even.
“This is really good. Thanks,” he says, lifting his cup in acknowledgement after he takes a sip.
I transfer my pancakes to a plate and slather them with butter as an awkward silence settles around us. “Congratulations,” I say, filling the void. “Ollie texted the group chat to say that Hazel had her kittens.”
“Yeah, they’re super cute. A little slimy, but adorable. You should go up and meet them later.”
“Sounds good,” I say. I definitely want to meet Hazel’s precious babies, but do I really want to go up to Blue’s room to do it? Not so much.
“They’re getting names today,” Blue says, and I hate how weird and stilted our conversation is.
“The kittens?”
“Yeah. Ollie and Mickey wrote a bunch of names on little slips of paper. They’re going to put a treat on each one and whichever treats Hazel eats, well, those will be the names of her kids.
That’s actually kind of adorable, but standing here talking to Blue is just weird. And uncomfortable. Maybe it’s because we were never really friends. At least, not until we became so much more than that.
And since it’s only the beginning of March, I’ve got more than two months of this awkwardness. Ugh. This is why you should never proposition your very hot housemate for sex.
Because it will never be just sex. And you’ll fall in love. And he’ll tell you that he’ll never hurt you, and then it’ll all blow up in your face.
Lesson learned.
I drizzle syrup over my stack of pancakes and let my dishes soak in the sink. Blue finishes his coffee and sets his mug in the dishwasher. I’m mentally counting down the seconds until he leaves, but that’s when I notice the stack of boxes in the hallway.
“What are those?” I ask, unable to curb my curiosity.
“That’s my stuff. Well, some of it. I’m moving out.”
“What? That’s crazy. Don’t move on my account. I can avoid you easily enough.”
“I’m aware,” Blue says, giving me half a smile.
“Seriously, though, this house is huge. We can co-habitate for the next few months,” I tell him. The thought of doing that makes me want to smack my head off the wall, but I can’t let Blue move out just because it would make my life easier. That’s hardly fair.
“It’s fine, really. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable here. I got a place.”
“Of course you did,” I say, the words tumbling from my lips before I can stop them. “It’s probably even nicer than this with its own pool—sorry, that was snarky. Look, if you’re really set on moving out, do it. But don’t do it for me. I’m a big girl, and I can handle shit.”
“I’m moving into Bridgette's room,” Blue says, leaning against the counter.
“You’re what?” I ask, because that doesn’t make any sense.
“I’m moving into Bridgette’s dorm room. It’s not like she’s using it. She sleeps in Sparky’s room every night. All her stuff is purple, but that’s close enough to blue. I can deal.”
“What about Hazel?” There’s no way he’s actually moving out. But is he really taking his cat with him? They’re inseparable, but she just delivered a litter of kittens a few hours ago, so I think she’s had enough stress for a while.
“Hazel and Doug are taking over my room. They’ll need the space since the kitties are here. I mean, right now all the little ones are snuggled up together in a cardboard box, but when they get bigger, they’ll need more room.”
I grab a fork from the drawer and set it on the plate that holds my pancakes.
I should start eating them before they get soggy, but it feels weird to just start eating breakfast in the middle of this conversation.
And it shouldn’t feel weird. This is why I came into the kitchen in the first place—to eat breakfast. “Yeah, um…. I don’t know what to say.
This is all…” My voice trails off because I can’t find the words.
“So fucked up?” Blue supplies. “I know. Because I’m the fucker. And I know that, too, Liza. Look, there’s a lot I need to say about what happened, but first I want you to know how sorry I am. I was an idiot. And an asshole. And a dummy. I know that I hurt you, and I’m so, so sorry.”
“Oh, well, thanks,” I say feebly, because apparently my brain has lost the ability to form coherent thoughts. I blame my proximity to Blue. I blame a lot of things on that, actually.
Blue turns to face me, and I know he’s going to open up this conversational wound.
I can feel it. But I can’t handle it. So before he opens his mouth again, I open mine.
“Okay, well, I’ve got class,” I lie. He knows it and I know it, but I keep up the pretense anyway.
“So, I should go.” And on that stunning parting line, I race out of the kitchen and down the hall to my room, shutting the door behind me a second after I step inside.
Blue doesn’t follow me. And I hate that I wish he would have.
And I really hate that I left my pancakes behind.