“Yeah, why?” I ask, hopping on one foot so I can inspect my toe.
“It’s just different, that’s all,” she says, shrugging. “I never pegged you for a guy with a squeaky clean mouth, but maybe that’s because when you pinched your finger in your locker last week, you said that whoever manufactured the lockers was, and I quote, ‘a cock-sucking demon whore who should be cursed to piss nails for all of fucking eternity.’”
“Yeah, well, I stand by that opinion, and that was before I found out I’m going to be a grandfather,” I say, sitting on the bed and scratching under Hazel’s chin. “If there are going to be little ones running around, I can’t fucking swear all the time.”
Liza looks at me like she’s going to argue and tell me that it’s children I shouldn’t swear in front of, not kittens, but she just sighs and shakes her head, like I’m a lost cause.
That's when I notice that her foot is tapping against the doorframe, and her fingers are toying with the frayed hem of her sweatshirt. “Are you good?” I ask. “Do you need something?”
“Oh, yeah,” she says, like she’s suddenly remembering where she is. “But you look busy. I can come back later when you’re —”
“Fully clothed,” I say, finishing her sentence. “Give me just a sec,” I say, grabbing the joggers from the bed and ducking into the bathroom to throw them on. “Okay, what’s up?” I ask.
Liza stares at my bare chest and I smile back in return. Her cheeks turn pink, and it’s fucking gratifying to know I still have some effect on her. I know it’s not going to amount to jack shit, but at least I’m not the only one sneaking glances.
“Aren’t you going to put a shirt on?” she asks, her signature attitude sliding right back onto her face.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I say, shaking my head. “So, what do you need? I can only assume that the house is flooded, or that the guys are back and Mickey’s about to torch this place just like he did the old hockey house?”
She shifts her weight to her other foot, and pulls a loose thread from the edge of her hoodie, winding it around her finger. “I was just—well, we’re the only ones home, and I was thinking of maybe treating myself to a buffalo chicken pizza at Rinaldi’s since they’re half price after a home game win, and?—”
“And what? You climbed three flights of stairs to ask me if I want to share a pizza with you—a pizza I happen to find repulsive, by the way.” For a second, I wonder if she’s prankingme. It’d be the perfect set-up, really. She’s catching me off guard, I’m curious as hell as to why she’s up here asking me if I want to split her weird little pizza that’s sure to be dripping in bleu cheese. Fun fact: I hate bleu cheese. Not only does it spell its own name wrong, it’s literal mold. Who in their right fucking mind would eat mold, let alone make a sauce out of it? I’m embarrassed to share my name with the stuff, but Liza loves it. Holy shit. “Did you sneak in here while I was in the shower and hide bleu cheese somewhere in my room?”
“What?” she asks, clearly perplexed, but maybe she’s a good actress.
“It’s the perfect fucking prank. A genius way to get me back. I bet you snuck in here and sprinkled those freaky little mold crumbles in the most devious places.” I’m stalking around my room like Sherlock Fucking Holmes, opening drawers, and hefting my overflowing hamper aside so I can crack the case. But to do that, I need to think like a pranking mastermind. If I were going to execute this scheme, how would I do it? “The bed,” I cry, darting across the room, and pulling back the covers to reveal…nothing. I fling the pillows to the floor, causing Hazel to shoot me a death glare, but I’ll grovel later. Right now, I’m too busy pressing my nose to the mattress to see if I can detect the nasty odor.
“Blue,” Liza says, coming up behind me and putting her hand on my shoulder. “I swear I did not prank you by hiding bleu cheese in your bed. Or anywhere in your room. I didn’t prank you at all. I’ll admit, it’s a delightfully evil plan, but do you have any idea how expensive that would be? Not to mention wasteful.”
Pranks are often both expensive and wasteful, but that’s just the price you pay for good quality fun. I don’t say that to Liza, though, because my brain has stalled out. How did I never know that the shoulder is an erogenous zone. Or maybe I’m just afreak. Or maybe I’m just starved for Liza’s touch. I barely got a taste of her last night, and I know without a doubt it’s all I’ll ever get. What I don’t know is why she’s really here in my room.
As I turn to face her, she drops her hand from my shoulder like she’s suddenly realized that she’s touching a burning stovetop.
“So yeah,” she says, putting both arms at her sides, then clasping them in front of her for a second before returning them right back to where they were. “I’ll just go order my pizza. Or not. I think we have frozen pizza, so?—”
“Why’d you come in here looking for me, Liza?” I ask. I don’t know if it’s my grumpy mood that has me cutting straight to the point, or if it’s my reaction to her touch, or if it’s the fact that she made it abundantly clear last night that she basically wishes we’d never met. Maybe my ego just can’t keep taking the hits. Whatever it is, I’m all out of patience, so I’m going to say what’s exactly on my mind, because what’s the worst that could happen? She openly despises me and actively avoids me for the next year and a half? That’s the track we’re on right now, so I see no reason to keep my mouth shut. “You’ve been avoiding me all day, so why are you in here now?”
She glances up at me. “ I always avoid you.”
“Way to stroke my ego,” I say, settling on my bed to give Hazel some affection.
Liza crosses her arms, like she’s the one who gets to be annoyed in this scenario. The movement pushes her breasts up so that her cleavage is peeking out of the torn neckline of her oversized hoodie. “You don’t need me to stroke you.”
I can’t hold back a laugh as her face goes crimson. “That’s debatable,” I quip. “But what I really do need is for you to tell me what the hell you’re doing in my room.”
“I’m here to see Hazel,” she says, the lie falling off her lips too quickly. I know she loves my cat, and that when Hazel’sroaming around the house, she loves to follow Liza around. But the woman who’s loathed me since the day we met has never been in my space before, so the idea of her trotting up thirty-six steps to say hi to my cat at ten o’clock at night is ridiculous, and we both know it. Instead of calling her out, I wait her out. It takes about ten seconds for her to crack.
“Last night, we…It was,” she stammers, letting her words trail off.
“Something that never should have happened? Yeah. I got that memo,” I tell her as I sprawl back on my bed and pat my chest. Hazel stands and stretches before settling herself right over my sternum. Her eyes close as she purrs like a little lawnmower.
“Okay, that was a harsh thing to say. I’m sorry. It was just very unexpected. And unprecedented. And it threw me off.”
I momentarily pause petting Hazel. “Unprecedented? Like, that’s the first time you’ve gotten off in a storage room?”
“Well, yes.” Liza blinks, and I know I’m being a dick, but she started it.
And yeah, I know I sound like a child right now. And no, that doesn’t stop me from letting another dumbass comment slip out of my mouth. “Great. Glad to be of service,” I tell her, before turning my attention back to Hazel.
