“Hmmm,” I say, narrowing my eyes and tapping my finger against my chin, because I’ve decided that we’re not really flirting. We’re practicing. And that’s perfectly acceptable. “What are my options?”
Blue’s still sprawled out on the couch, while I’m sitting on the arm of the chair across from him. He stretches for a second before lacing his fingers together at the back of his neck. The movement makes his hoodie ride up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. And yes, I take a moment to appreciate the view. Only for a second, though, because he clears his throat and gives me a pointed look.
“You want options, right? Well, let me think. We could actually do laundry. My hampers are overflowing.”
“Hard pass,” I say automatically.
“It was worth a shot,” he jokes. “All right, so laundry is out. Hmmm…you want to watch TV?”
“Nope. Not in the mood,” I say.
“Hey, you know what we could do? And I’m actually being serious for once.”
I twist my lips to one side like I’m actually burning brain cells. “You could take me into your room, rip my clothes off, and do delicious things to me with your tongue?” I guess.
“I was going to say you could help me put together the new scratching post I got for Hazel, but I like your idea way better. Let’s go with that.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he pops off the couch and strides toward me, his arm reaching for mine. Our hands touch, and the reaction is immediate. It’s warm and electric.There’s nothing overtly sexual about holding hands, but it feels intimate, and the zing of pleasure that races through my body tells me I’m ready for more of his touch.
But that will have to wait.
About two seconds after our hands are joined, I hear the soft click of heels on the wood floor. Immediately, I drop Blue’s hand like it’s been dipped in molten lava, and when I look up, I see Bridgette rounding the corner.
“I heard you two were up here,” she says, smiling brightly. Bridgette Mikalski is the personification of sunshine. She’s endlessly warm and sweet and she sees the good in everyone. Perpetual positivity is obnoxious on some people, but not my loyal, redheaded friend. She’s so damn genuine and kind that it’s impossible to hate her or be annoyed by her glass-so-full-it’s-overflowing view of the world.
I do wish she had better timing, though.
“What are you doing all the way up here?” she asks me as she takes off her coat and sets her bag by the sofa. “The guys seemed to think that you lost a bet and had to help Blue with his laundry. Well, that’s what Dime said. Leo stayed quiet, and Flo said that seeing you two in the same space without wanting to kill each other is a sure sign of the apocalypse. He told me the end is near, so I figured I should spend my last few hours doing what I love. But Dutton’s not home yet, so that will have to wait.”
“Don’t listen to the freshman,” Blue says, standing awkwardly in the center of the room, but trying his damnedest to make it look cool and natural.
“I’m just visiting Hazel,” I volunteer, proud of my brain for putting together a believable lie for once.
Bridgette’s face lights up at the mention of our favorite feline mama-to-be. “How is that sweet girl today?”
As if on cue, and as though she’s gunning for an Oscar, Hazel emerges from her napping spot in a basket full of blankets by the other recliner. But her performance doesn’t end there. She struts across the room and winds herself around my legs before hopping onto the seat next to me and curling up into the world’s best impression of a cinnamon roll.
Bridgette claps her hands together like she’s just had the best idea and is dying to share it. “Oh, Blue, you should ask Liza for help with that castle you bought for Hazel and her babies. She’s a whiz at putting things together.”
My friend is not wrong. I happen to possess the coveted ability to assemble furniture without the burden of silly things like direction manuals. But something Bridgette said doesn’t make sense, so I eye Blue. “You told me it was a scratching post.”
Bridgette’s dainty laugh fills the air. “You already asked for her help? Smart man,” she surmises.
“It is a scratching post,” Blue says, turning toward me and then pointing to the row of boxes that span the length of the wall.
I don’t know how I missed them, but now I see they’re all labeled and the picture on the front shows a veritable cat paradise that likely includes about a thousand pieces and will cover half this room once it’s finished. After giving Hazel a few chin scratches, I stand up and walk over to get a better look. “It has two turrets, and wait—is that a waterfall?”
“You are correct on both counts,” Blue tells me. “It’s not actual water, of course. That would be wasteful. It’s that shiny crinkly stuff Hazel goes nuts for.”
“Do you realize how complicated this is? And how long it’s going to take to construct?”
Blue scratches the scruff on his chin. He doesn’t have a beard to go with his mustache, but he must have skipped shaving today. Is it bad that I’m wondering if I’m going to like the feel of his stubble? And that I am secretly praying there’s a hair salon emergency and Bridgette has to rush out of here to fix a bad color job so Blue and I can get to the good stuff?
“What I’m hearing is that you don’t think you’re up for the challenge,” Blue says, shrugging. “I figured a civil engineering major wouldn’t be daunted by a cat tree, but maybe they don’t teach you the advanced stuff until senior year. No biggie. There's a number on the box I can call to hire somebody to construct it and anchor it to the walls. But thanks for taking a look.”
I flip him off. “Of course I can put this together. And I can do it in half the time than some guy you hire off the cat tree website.”
“You really think you’re up for the challenge? Because I don’t mind hiring someone. Hazel’s not due for a few weeks yet, so I’m sure it’ll be done by the time the babies arrive. Did you see that cozy little alcove on the bottom? Tell me that doesn’t scream ‘kitten nursery’?”
I can’t help but laugh. He’s right, though. It’s adorable. I don’t even want to think about how much it cost, because it doesn’t look cheap, but hopefully that means it’s a decent quality product and all the pieces and parts are included. Not that I can’t improvise, because I totally can. It’s just easier not to. And I have plans this afternoon. Sexy plans. But first, I guess we’re doing a little construction project, at least until Bridgette leaves.
