The Blueprint, page 16
“Could Lucy cook? Because I think I might be channeling someone else.” With a fork I fished a lava-hot noodle from the pot and burned my tongue testing it. “Maybe Fred.”
“Gruff but lovable. That still works.” He meandered over, threw an arm across my shoulder, and squeezed. “Is that spaghetti?”
“Yup. Garlic bread is in the oven, and salad is in the fridge. I went all out, Blue.”
“Looks like. How’s the pasta?”
I made a face as I chewed. “Not quite done. Maybe a couple more minutes.”
I tried to act casual, but I wanted to wrap my arms around him, kiss him, lick my way down his stomach, and reintroduce myself to his dick. And he was cool with the one-armed buddy hug? I sighed.
Blue was oblivious as he leaned past me and lifted the lid on the sauce. He sniffed the aromas in the air and put the lid back down. “Smells almost edible. I think you’re getting better at this.”
“I should certainly hope so,” I said starchily. “But enough about my cooking skills. How was practice?”
“Grueling. As usual. Coach said I was a standout today.” At my unimpressed grunt, he grinned and bumped my shoulder with his. “I practically ran McAdams into the ground. He fumbled three passes.”
“Uh-huh.” I tested another noodle, even though it couldn’t have possibly gotten more done in six seconds. “Shouldn’t you be out somewhere celebrating? Someplace special?”
“I thought I was.”
He smiled that smile, the one that made my stomach quiver. I could only manage a single word. “Oh.”
My cheeks heated so thoroughly I wanted to slap my hands over them. I hoped he attributed my blushing to the heat of the pasta as I dumped it in a colander over the sink. Then I went back to the sauce, stirred it, and gave it a taste. “Needs a little something.”
“Like what?”
I dipped the spoon in again and held it out to Blue. He tasted the sauce and squinted. “Did you use basil?”
“Yeah.”
“Onion?”
“Yup.” I offered him another taste, and he smacked his lips afterward. “Channel your inner Julia Child,” I suggested.
“Garlic, maybe?” He used her high-pitched voice, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, that’s it. I’m pretty sure.”
“I used garlic.”
“More,” he instructed, demanding as a five-star chef.
He searched my spice rack until he found the right container and handed it to me. “You know, I had this girlfriend back in college who used pungent flavors and foods almost like a signal. If we were eating dinner out, she’d order everything without garlic and onions. I knew right then I had to do the same or I wouldn’t be getting any.” He laughed at the memory. “I remember eating a lot of bland food for a while.”
I scowled and dumped extra garlic powder in the sauce. Clearly when it came to us, it could be garlic and onion city. Maybe I should just wear a rope of garlic around my neck. The added benefit would be no vampires, and I could use it to hang myself when the loneliness became unbearable.
We plopped down on the couch and ate while we watched TV. Well, I ate. Blue scarfed down his spaghetti like he feared famine was on the horizon. He went back for seconds while I was still on my first.
Eventually I grabbed my computer so I could grade some practice tests I’d had my classes complete online. Noticing that I wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to the screen, Blue asked if I minded him watching game film, and I told him to go ahead. At some point he got up to set up his recovery compression pump so he could get in a few hours while he watched the game.
The entire setup basically amounted to two leg sleeves attached to a machine that distributed the right amount of inflation to them. Blue swore by it and said it was better than a massage and increased his range of motion. I just got my kicks out of him wearing it because the inflated sleeves made his normally toned legs look like they belonged to the Michelin Man.
It should’ve been comfortable, the two of us on the couch, doing our own thing together, like we’d always done in the past. Only it felt different—to me, at least. I hated the uncertainty of it all. Was it weird for me to lean on his shoulder while we were on the couch? Would it be too odd if I flicked on the tableside lamp so he could see better?
For God’s sake, Kelly, it’s a fucking lamp. Get a grip.
Thoroughly frustrated with myself, I leaned over him and snapped on the lamp. He glanced up in surprise and then smiled. “Thanks.”
I grunted like the mannerless beast I was—according to my mother—and settled back on my side of the couch. I didn’t want to seem like I was getting too cozy, as though I were pushing for more, thinking about a repeat. We were just buddies again, nothing more. Even though just the memory of his blow job was enough to make me shift in my seat. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever had before—first tentative and unsure, and then surprisingly enthusiastic. Amazingly enthusiastic.
That blow job had been the number-one star of my fantasies almost every day since it happened. My dick had all but scrapbooked that shit. If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel the soft, slick slide of his tongue, the suction of his warm mouth, his touch on my balls, tentative and unsure. He’d tried to be gentle. I could tell. But there was only so much he could do to soften those thick, calloused fingers. I shivered.
He actually said he wished he were better at it. Better. At giving me head.
It was hard not to compare his uncertain yet determined blow job to one of Robert’s cursory ones. He usually stopped and looked up at me every few licks to see if I was “there yet.” There was no fucking comparison. Frankly, if Blue were any better at it, I would’ve died from it.
I squirmed a little more. Fuck. I was glad I had a computer and a throw pillow on my lap.
He glanced over at me. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You’re moving around like you have ants in your pants.”
The big ole boner in my pants would send those poor ants screaming for the hills. “I said I’m fine.”
He rolled his eyes, presumably at my testiness, and went back to his film. Within a few minutes, he was once again immersed in his playbook as he read and alternately watched the game on the big screen. At least I thought he was immersed.
He finally looked up with a drawn-out sigh. “Now what?”
“Now what what?”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
I blinked. “You have excellent peripheral vision.”
“Yes. I do.” He turned to face me fully. “So why’re you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Your mouth is all pinched and frowny.”
“Frowny is not a word.”
“Pretty sure it is.”
I felt a smile tugging at my lips. “I guess I just didn’t think there was that much studying involved in football.”
He grinned and flipped me off. “Because we’re all just meatheads?”
“What are you studying, exactly?”
“I’m studying how to win. It’s not just running and catching and tackling, you know.”
“I know that,” I said hotly, when in fact, I did not.
“It’s almost like a game of chess, really—learning how your opponent operates and analyzing his game play. How does he position his hands? How does he stagger his stance? Does he explode off the line every time, or does he save up his energy? How do you counter the things that make him so good at what he does?”
He paused the game on the screen, and the players froze midtackle. Blue’s hands were outstretched, but his eyes were on the wide shoulders of the defensive lineman about to plow into him. “I’m studying how not to be in the crosshairs of one of the biggest linebackers in the NFL on Sunday. He’s a three hundred seventy-five pounder whose favorite things in the world happen to be steamrolling over people, science fiction movies, and his mama’s jambalaya. In that order.”
He hit Play on the remote, and the action resumed. I winced at the crunch of bodies colliding—even more so when I actually looked up in time to see a linebacker lay Blue out flat. My stomach roiled a little, but Blue didn’t look overly concerned as he pressed the Back button. “You see that?”
“Yes. I’m impressed you still have arms.”
“No. I missed a golden opportunity to run the ball. Look at this.” He hit the Play button again. He shook his head as the whistle blew. “You take your eyes off the ball for one second, and this is what happens.”
On-screen Blue lay perfectly still for a few seconds, and my stomach tensed even more. He finally sat up and shook his head a little. He looked dazed. I wasn’t surprised. A hit like that and I’d be seeing cartoon birdies flying around my head. Or Jesus. In person.
A teammate held out a hand, and Blue grabbed it and levered himself to his feet. He looked wobbly for a second, and his teammate, some moron with Warner on the back of his jersey, slapped Blue companionably on the helmet. Because nothing felt better after being steamrolled than having someone slap you in the head.
His phone rang just then, which was good because I suddenly felt a little melancholy. He swiped his thumb across the screen and answered. “What’s up? Hey, Carly.” He put the TV on mute and let the game play, his eyes trained on the screen. “No, I can talk.”
I frowned. And since when did he start talking to Carly again? He certainly hadn’t mentioned it to me—not even in passing. I pretended not to hear their conversation, but I shouldn’t have even bothered. It was pretty one-sided. Carly was a bit of a talker.
Was he seeing her again? Or were they just friends? Blue always remained friends with his exes. It was part of his disgusting charm. They didn’t seem to be talking about anything private or particularly lovey-dovey. I tamped down my jealousy.
On the TV he got tackled again, and I averted my eyes and looked blankly down at my computer screen. It was a rough game, and I knew that, but it didn’t make watching it any easier. I couldn’t lie—I’d be thrilled if he quit and did something else entirely. You know, before the eventual brain damage and life-altering injuries? We’d spoken at length about it before. Correction—we argued about it every time I brought it up.
You don’t understand, Kelly. I love playing football. And it’s a rough sport. What do you expect? Should I ask the entire NFL to go easy on me for you? And don’t forget my all-time favorite—What else would I do?
Anything but get your head cracked open on a weekly basis.
I swallowed. Sometimes it really hit home that he was important to me. He didn’t care about my opinion because football would always be number one with him. And I would never be more than just his buddy. Maybe he and Carly would invite me to their wedding.
“Kel?”
Jolted out of my thoughts, I glanced over to find Blue looking at me. I hadn’t even realized he’d wrapped up his phone call. “Yeah?”
“I was asking if you’d turn off my machine.” He patted his inflated leg sleeves. “I’d like to get these off.”
We’d put the machine closer to my side of the couch because the plug wouldn’t stretch. “Oh. Right. Sorry about that.” I put my knees on the couch, leaned over the back, and risked falling on my head because I didn’t want to bother going around. I wriggled a little to reach and finally got my mitts on the machine. Then I flipped it off and pulled out the cord.
Huffing with exertion I slid onto the couch and presented the cord to Blue. His face was a little pink, and he took it with a murmured “Thanks.”
I watched him suspiciously as he stepped out of the inflated sleeves and pressed them flat. I was pretty sure he’d been scoping out my ass during my couch gymnastics, which was flattering but confusing.
I was a little done waiting for him to clear things up.
Obviously two drunken sex sessions did not make a relationship. If I created a club for people hopelessly in love with the clueless, that would be our slogan. And if someone came to a meeting and talked about true love and soul mates and all that crap, I’d splash him in the face with a bucket of ice-cold water and school him on the facts of life.
“I was thinking maybe we could go for a walk,” he said as he packed his machine into the carrying case. He zippered it shut with the air and ease of practice. “You feel up to it?”
“Not really. You don’t mind if we cut the night short, do you?”
“Why?” He furrowed his brow. “If you don’t want to go for a walk, just say so.”
“I just did.” I stood up and took his bag from him. I walked it to the front door and sat it near the entrance. Then I turned to address a suddenly openmouthed Blue. “You should go.”
I grabbed his plate and headed for the kitchen. Then I stood at the sink for a while to draw out the dishwashing so I could be sure he was gone. You did the right thing. I patted myself on the back so hard I almost pulled something, and I flicked off the kitchen light.
And then I heard movement upstairs in the guest room. I stomped upstairs just to make sure, and when I peered in the doorway, Blue was unpacking his gear. “Oh, for crying out loud.” I stuck a hand on my hip. “Didn’t I tell you to leave?”
“Yes. I think some crazy person who looked a lot like you started throwing my stuff around. If that’s what you mean.” He sent me a glare as he shook out a wrinkled shirt and folded it over a chair. “I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt and just assume that was your evil twin.”
“I just want to be alone right now.”
“Then I’ll stay in my room.”
“This is not your room, Blue,” I said, frustrated. “This is my guest room.”
“I understand that,” he said patiently. “But since when do you care if I stay at your house?”
Since I fell in love with you. And I thought, for a few stupid seconds, that you might love me back.
Whatever he saw on my face made him stop unpacking. He froze with a pair of pants dangling from his hands. “You’re actually serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I said simply.
“But why?”
“‘Why’?” I parroted back.
“Yes. Why?” He dropped the pants on the bed and folded his massive arms across his chest. As far as intimidating stances went, it was pretty impressive. “You tell me why, and I’ll leave. No further discussion required.”
“I just….”
“Is this about Carly? Because we’re just friends.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because… because….”
“Because what?” He stared at me and looked a little offended. “Jesus, Kel, it’s me. You can tell me anything. You know that.”
So that’s what it sounded like when the rubber met the road—like my heart going splat all over my polished hardwood floors. I dropped down on the bed and rested my face in my hands. “You have to know by now. Hell, everyone else certainly does.”
“Know what?”
“I’m into you.” Just so there wouldn’t be any mistake, I clarified. “Into you into you.”
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.” Blue’s face was positively pink. “Obviously I think you’re attractive too, or we wouldn’t have done all that… stuff we did.”
“No, it’s not just physical attraction.”
“Well, of course it’s not.” He blushed even harder. “We’re best friends too. So I know it’s a little awkward, but—”
“Okay. I’m going to say things now, and you’re going to understand what the fuck I’m saying.” I spoke slowly because I only intended to embarrass myself once—voluntarily, at least. “I love you, Blue. It’s not just physical attraction or sex or being buddies. I love you.”
“I love you too. You know that.”
I threw up my hands, and he winced. It was a second before I could get words out again. “Jesus H. Christ, Blue!”
“Well, I do love you,” he defended.
“Not like I do!”
Lord, I sounded like a middle-school girl. Actually that was insulting to middle-school girls. At least they had the dignity to create a nicely folded note with check boxes for yes and no. But I was old. They probably did that on Facebook or something.
When the silence in the room became so oppressive that I could actually feel it weighing my chest down, I finally dropped my hands and chanced a look up. “Are you going to say anything? I just told you I’m in love with you.”
“Okay.”
Of all the things in the world I thought he’d say, that little word hadn’t even made my top hundred. “Okay?” I repeated.
“Okay,” he said again. “It doesn’t change anything because you think you’re—”
“Know.”
“Because you think you’re in love with me,” he said, ignoring my correction.
“This didn’t just happen overnight, Blue. I know I’m in love with you, and you sweeping it under the rug doesn’t bring things back to the way they were.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t hang out with one another.”
“Yes, it does. You don’t understand what I’m saying. It’s not working anymore. I can’t just turn it off and on like that. Being with you like this has become… difficult.”
“What I don’t understand is what you’re going on and on about. We’re basically in a relationship as it is. All that’s missing is the… the umm… you know.”
“The ‘umm, you know’ is kind of important, Blue.”
“Then let’s. We’ve done it before, we can do it again.” He sounded angry then. “Since it’s important enough for you to toss me aside like garbage if you don’t get your rocks off.”
“Fuck you,” I shot back, even as I wondered how things had devolved so quickly. Probably because Blue wasn’t used to hearing no. Blue asked, and the world moved. “In fact fuck you twice.”
“What’s the big deal? We’ve done… stuff before.” His ears were positively red. “I don’t mind doing it again.”
“You don’t mind.” I looked at him incredulously. “Well, thank you for making such a sacrifice. I know touching my body is a chore.”
“You’re so fucking dramatic—”
