The Blueprint, page 21
“Coach,” he bit off.
With a little more prodding, Dr. Green left the room, and it was just the two of us. The awkward silence stretched between us like an invisible cord tethering us both together and apart. I tried to catch his eyes, but he looked away, stared out the window, and tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair.
Kelly didn’t understand. Injuries were par for the course in football. They threw a bunch of gladiators in a cage, and only the strongest survived. You had to be tough and fearless. They drilled those qualities in you the moment you hit the gridiron. Being tough and fearless were two of your best weapons in the game. And two of the worst.
I rotated my knee and winced, and that was all it took to thaw Kelly. He was next to me in a flash. He didn’t speak, but his fingers on my leg were tender and sure. It made me wonder how long he’d put up with me before he fucked off altogether.
I had a few weeks off, and suddenly I was looking at them less like a curse and more like an unexpected boon. I had a few weeks to convince Kelly that friendship was better than nothing. And I was determined to do it.
Chapter 21
Kelly
THEY DISCHARGED Blue the next day, and I picked him up after work. I drove him home in the new Navigator he’d had delivered and kept insisting was mine. I was just as determined not to accept, and in the end, we both knew I’d win that particular battle.
He was quiet most of the way home, and I didn’t bother to break the silence. I pulled into the yard and cut the engine, still lost in the thought. Now that we had a plan of action for his recovery and the immediacy of the situation had receded, I couldn’t help but think about the other stuff he’d revealed.
Hell, I wasn’t even sure what we were doing anymore.
“Stop thinking about it.” Blue’s voice cut into the silence, and I glanced at him. His face was a little gray. Clearly all the moving and traveling was a little too much activity for him. “I don’t want to rehash old history.”
“You just want me to stop thinking altogether?” My keys bit into my palm. “Because that’s the only way that’s going to work.”
“What I want is for things to go back the way they were. I miss you… miss us.”
You mean before we kissed? Sucked each other off? Before you told me you were crushing on me in college? Before you admitted that you might love me but you were too scared to admit it, even to yourself?
“We’ll talk about it later. Right now I need to get you inside and upstairs.” I looked him over critically and realized there was no way that was going to happen. “I probably need to pull out the couch.”
It didn’t look like it would be that big of a task to get him inside… until he stood out of the car. Even resting against the door, he was quite a bit taller than me. I wrapped an arm around his waist and gestured for him to lean on me. He gave me a dubious look. “Really?”
“I’m stronger than I look.”
I flexed my other arm to show him my muscles. My arm was lean but toned, and he peered at it. “I’m not willing to bet my balance on that puny thing.”
I scowled. “All right, you big baby. Let me get your cane, then.”
They gave him a cane at the hospital, and he refused to use it, but apparently scared straight by the thought of having to rely on my strength, he was willing to give it a go. He leaned heavily on it on the way in but managed the three steps up to the house. Then he shuffled inside, made a beeline for the couch, and collapsed on it.
With his eyes closed, he laid his head back. He was perspiring a little at his temples. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved your couch more.”
I dragged an ottoman over and put his leg up on it. Then I took a blanket, shook it out, and draped it over him. Some part of me realized I was fussing, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I brought him a bottle of water and his medication and watched as he downed two tabs and chased them with the water.
Hands on my hips, I tried to think of something else I could do. “Let me make you something to eat.”
“There’s no way I can eat anything right now.”
A Blue that wasn’t hungry? That made me ramp up my fussing to a level my mother would’ve been proud of. “You shouldn’t take heavy painkillers on an empty stomach. That’s just going to make you feel worse.”
He threw one arm over his face. “Your nagging makes things worse,” he teased. “I’ll get something in the morning.”
“You want something else to drink? I have juice, if you want. Cranberry, I think?”
“I’m fine, Kel. Sit with me for a little?”
The crook in his arm would be perfect for me—a perfect fit for my body. I cleared my throat. “Actually I’m going to get out of these clothes.” Realizing that couldn’t sound more like a pickup line if I planned it, I cleared my throat. “I meant I’m going to take off my clothes and shower. Upstairs. Alone.”
And the prize for world’s weirdest weirdo went to? Me. Hands down, no contest.
Blue didn’t move or respond to my odd behavior, and I huffed a breath. “Call me if you need anything. Do you have your phone?”
“Yes, Kelly,” he said. Even though his arm was still across his face, I knew he was rolling his eyes. “I have my phone, so I’ll be able to call you while you’re showering. Upstairs. Completely alone.”
I had to grin. “Smartass.”
I headed up to my room, stripped down, and left my clothes on the bathroom floor. Then I got in the shower and turned it on as hot as possible. I let the water pour over my shoulders and stared at the wall more than anything else. I was a little irritated with myself. Every time I took one step forward, Blue sucked me right back in.
Don’t get me wrong. I heard what he said—that he wanted to be friends and nothing more. But I could see how great we were together. And sometimes he would look at me and make me think that someday he’d realize it too. If he gave me a glimmer of hope, I knew I’d wait.
I wasn’t sure if that made me the most patient guy in the world or an absolute fool.
I shut off the shower, and for a couple seconds, I could still hear the echo of water against tile. After I tossed on some pajama pants and a worn shirt, I couldn’t resist going back downstairs one more time before bed. He looked so miserable that I felt bad. I pulled up the blanket and tucked it around his shoulders. Then I trailed a hand through his hair and pushed it back from his face. He caught my hand on the way down, eyes still closed. “Thanks for letting me stay.”
“It’s not a problem.” You’re right where I want you to be.
“This isn’t going to cause problems with whatshisface, is it?”
“His name is Graham. And it wasn’t a date.”
He held on to my hand when I would’ve pulled away. “You’re always here for me, Kel.”
“I am, aren’t I?”
He looked at me unflinchingly, his eyes quiet, steady pools of blue. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”
It’s starting to seem that way.
He narrowed his eyes as though I’d said the words aloud. “I’d like to think I’m here for you as well.”
He was. It just wasn’t enough. I was self-admittedly greedy that way. I wanted everything—or nothing at all. They would call my biography Dying Alone. I’d be played by Jason Statham. I look absolutely nothing like him, of course, but it’s my final wish, so I want what I want.
I tugged at my fingers, and he gripped them tightly, like he always did, but then he let them go. “Good night, Blue.”
I could feel his eyes on my back as I headed up the stairs, and I lay in bed for a while and stared up at the ceiling. Thinking.
Sleep was a long way away.
Chapter 22
Blue
KELLY’S COUCH wasn’t exactly the most comfortable thing in the world, but I woke feeling better than I had in days. A lot of that probably had to do with not waking up in the hospital. I especially enjoyed the absence of a phlebotomist who usually flicked on a retina-scorching light and stuck a needle in me before he accused me of having rolling veins.
I had every intention of fixing Kelly breakfast to pay him back for his hospitality, but that was a no-go. I could tell from the intensity of the sun streaming through the living room blinds that it was later than I anticipated. One glance at the coffee table in front of me confirmed it. There was a note held down by my meds. Next to it was a glass of juice, a banana, and two muffins in a Ziploc bag.
Gone to work. I’m shifting some things around so I’ll get home early. If you have any errands to do, we can do them then. Take your meds on time and eat. Make sure you get some rest, or I’ll kick your ass.
I huffed out a laugh. That just begged for the rejoinder of “You and what army?” Despite my scoffing, I followed his instructions pretty much to the letter. I went to the bathroom, ate, and tossed down a couple of pain pills. Then I wrapped my knee, took a nice long shower, got dressed without much trouble, and congratulated myself on my resourcefulness. I was getting pretty adept at hobbling around.
I fully intended to respond to all the messages that had built up on my phone, but I made the mistake of closing my eyes on the couch. The next thing I knew, it was noon. I hobbled to the kitchen, had a lunch of some soup and crackers, and headed right back to the couch for sleep.
The next time I opened my eyes, it was because I heard Kelly’s car in the garage. I looked blearily at the wall clock and realized it was close to six in the afternoon. Jesus. I’d slept the entire day away. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d slept so much.
I glanced over at the side door as Kelly bustled in, arms completely full of stuff. He had his attaché and laptop bag over one shoulder, a couple of bags of takeout in one hand, and a big box under the other arm.
“Good grief, Kelly. One of us injured is enough, don’t you think? It’s okay to make more than one trip.” I hobbled over to help, and he gave me the stink eye for having the temerity to be off the couch at all. I took the delicious-smelling bags from his hands. “Stop glaring at me. I can manage to carry a couple bags of food to the kitchen.”
He made a grunt of displeasure as he dropped the bags on the coffee table. Then he presented the big box to me. I scowled. It looked a lot like a teak bath bench. It was my turn to send him a displeased look.
“I’m putting it in the downstairs bathroom,” he said. “You’ll use it, and you’ll like it.”
“I showered just fine without it,” I protested.
He ignored me. “I also bought some of those self-adhesive antislip decals, which I’ll be installing tonight.”
My eyes widened in alarm. “Not the ducks.”
“Turtles,” he said with supreme satisfaction.
“This injury isn’t permanent, you know. You can stop with all the babying.”
As I limped to the kitchen, I heard him sigh behind me. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to kick your ass, Blue. I really was.”
Finally. “You and what army?” I asked.
He narrowed his eyes at me as I put the bags on the kitchen island. “How long you been sitting on that one?”
“All day, Kel,” I sighed with relief. “All fucking day.”
He laughed and started to unpack. Looked like Thai food, most of which I couldn’t identify but was more than willing to try.
I felt… kind of happy. That was strange because I was injured and unable to play. Had to be some midseason madness. I should be fucking miserable. It was just that… I got to spend the entire evening at home with Kel. We’d probably sit on the couch, where he’d be all stiff and weird like he’d been lately, and then sometime around ten, he’d completely forget and get soft and sleepy. The distance between us on the couch would get less and less until he was pressed up against me.
I generally wasn’t that big of a fan of closeness. It usually felt too clingy. I could feel every place on my body where that person’s body touched mine. It was almost suffocating. But with Kelly I just wanted him closer, wanted to pull him halfway onto my body as he fell asleep, breathing softly against my neck.
Friends did that kind of thing, didn’t they?
I stared at him but tried to look as though I weren’t. The world should not be in cinematic Technicolor because he was home. I felt like an imaginary bluebird had landed on my fucking shoulder the moment he walked in the door. Zip-a-dee-doo-dah and all that shit.
I watched him dish up the food. Although I had no idea what some of it was, he knew what I liked, so I let him do his thing. His hair got in his face as he worked, and I reached over to sweep it back.
He sent me a dimpled grin that made my breath stutter a little in my chest. “Thanks.”
My palms got a little sweaty. I wanted to wrap my arms around him. I wanted to kiss him. Only I’d made it perfectly, hypocritically clear that we wouldn’t be doing any of that.
I shot the imaginary bluebird. We were friends and nothing more. And it was just a coincidence that I was really starting to hate those words.
SEVERAL DAYS later I was still adjusting to my new situation.
It was dark and quiet and cool in Kelly’s living room, and I readjusted the pillows under my leg as I tried to get more comfortable. I usually stared at the blinking numbers on the retro wall clock while I tried to fall asleep, and that night was no different.
Blink.
The time slid into 11:59 p.m., and I sighed. Usually I would’ve been asleep for three hours by then. It was a little strange not having my regular, regimented schedule—days filled with meetings, game film, and practice, the occasional interview or advertising gig, trips to monitor my football camp for disadvantaged youths, charity events. All of it was on hold.
Hell, even my dating life was on ice. Just thinking about the energy and effort it would take to get up, get dressed, and hobble someplace was stressful. Not to mention I’d probably be shit at pretending to be interested in anything other than healing up and getting back on the field. I had to be honest with myself—my knee injury had pushed the pause button on my life, and I would have to deal with it.
Everything with Kelly was running smoothly, though—maybe a little too smoothly. We had fallen into a bit of a routine. Either we fixed dinner together or Kelly picked something up on the way home. If we did cook, I sat at the kitchen island while he passed me things to do—things to chop or julienne or mince—and I watched him cook while I entertained him with mundane chatter.
We usually ate together while we watched TV or maybe even a movie. Then we retired to our separate areas—me on the couch and him up in his room. And he took my word to the letter—no more flirting, no more hugging, no accidental touching.
Zip.
Blink.
I watched the numbers turn to 12:06 a.m.
I wasn’t all that great with literature, but there were several quotes that stuck with me throughout my life because they seemed appropriate. In this case Oscar Wilde seemed to sum up my situation with Kelly—“There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.” I asked for just friendship, and he gave me exactly what I asked for. No more, no less.
I stared up at the ceiling in the darkness and scowled. The night was a prime example of that. Dinner was delicious, and we watched my favorite movie afterward. But sleepy and soft Kelly never appeared. He kept to his end of the couch and curled up in a faux sheepskin throw when he got cold. A throw. I’d lost cuddly Kelly to a goddamned piece of fabric.
He got up at one point to take a phone call, and I nearly broke something trying to listen to who it was. I got the beginnings of “Nice to hear from you” and “Yes, it was too bad we had to cut things short” before I bumped into the wall and a picture wobbled. It didn’t seem like he heard, but I was spooked enough to hobble back to the couch.
I wondered then if he was setting up a date—another goddamned date. I sat on the couch, barely watching the TV, and tried to be rational. I dated. He dated. We were both free agents, allowed to date people. Nothing wrong with that. If I said it enough, maybe I’d start to believe it.
At one point he drifted back through the living room and asked me if I needed something while he held the phone against his chest—which meant he wasn’t done with his conversation. It had been a little over an hour. I gritted my teeth and said no thank you, and he wished me a good night and headed upstairs. So I put the TV on mute and strained my ears, but all I could hear was a soft murmur that indicated he was still very much on the phone.
I had no reason to be upset. I’d drawn the lines, and he was just abiding by them. But it wasn’t like I’d used permanent marker.
I couldn’t help but think of our last aborted kiss and what a disaster that turned out to be. With no alcohol in my system to loosen me up and make me forget my reservations, my nerves had completely taken over. My butterflies had butterflies, and I wasn’t even able to function, which was beyond humiliating. And Kelly took it personally—very personally.
He just didn’t understand. Of course I wanted him. I always fucking wanted him. I wouldn’t have sucked his goddamned dick if I didn’t want him. Did he think I’d ever done something like that before? Jesus.
All those goddamned questions ran through my mind. What if we messed things up? What if we weren’t any good together? What if we were good together? Great, even? Would he think we were a couple? What would he do when I said we weren’t? What happened when you hit it and quit it with your best friend?
Nothing good, I bet.
I worried my bottom lip with my teeth. Three days. Three goddamned days, and I was already thinking about going against everything I said. Everything I swore I didn’t want. If I went upstairs right then, I’d be lucky if he didn’t push me off the goddamned balcony.
But maybe I was willing to take that risk.
I pushed off the couch and tested my weight on my leg. The rush of pain nearly sent me back down. I gritted my teeth and stood, but prickles of sweat appeared at my temples. I reached back, grabbed my cane, and started to hobble. A few feet in, I gave up using my left leg altogether and decided to hop on the right.
