A Deeper Blue

by S. E. Harmon

  When I realized he was looking at me, eyes crinkled in amusement, I blinked. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I was confessing to the theft of your dessert.” He reached in the fridge again and pulled out a baggie of washed red seedless grapes. He put the baggie in my hand and folded my fingers around it when I didn’t take hold.

  Ah. I remembered what I’d been annoyed about. I let the refrigerator door go and it swung shut. “Who told you that you could eat my cheesecake?”

  “It’s been gone for a week,” he said as he sat on a barstool pulled up to the kitchen island. “You didn’t even notice.”

  “Well, now I’m noticing, and I want it back.” I leaned against the refrigerator and pulled open the baggie of grapes so forcefully that it ripped a little. I popped one in my mouth and chewed. They were cold and crisp and sweet. Not bad. “Is this your sneaky way of telling me I’m fat?”

  “Your body is just fine,” he said, giving me a once-over. I grinned slyly when he got stuck somewhere around my ass, and he cleared his throat. “It’s easier for me to eat like I’m supposed to when that stuff isn’t even in the house.”

  “There’s just one problem with that,” I informed him around a mouthful of grapes. “This isn’t your house.”

  “Is this your way of kicking me out?”

  “Yes.”

  “You kick me out every other day.” He waved off my impromptu eviction with an unconcerned hand. “I’ll know when you really mean it.”

  I had to smile. “Okay. Maybe I don’t mean it, but dammit, Blue, the cheesecake made you tolerable.”

  Like any good fake hubby, I wanted to needle him about his knee. Did he do his exercises and stretches? Did he go to physical therapy? Did he wear his knee brace? But I was resolved not to nag, even if I nearly had to bite my lip off in the process. I could tell from the playful look in his eyes that he knew exactly what I wanted to ask, and he appreciated my restraint.

  “Kel?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Before you actually have a stroke right in front of me, therapy went fine. I did all of my stretches and ran five miles on an underwater treadmill, some torture Kai calls hydrotherapy. And yes, I remembered to wear my knee brace.”

  If we didn’t have a living room full of people, I would’ve kissed him then. As it was, I just smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he teased.

  I couldn’t hold in my good news a second longer. “I spoke with Carole today, and she practically assured me the keynote-speaker position was mine.”

  “That’s amazing,” he said warmly. “I knew you’d get it.”

  “You did not.”

  “Well, I knew you deserved it. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  I smiled. “Counts for everything, in fact. I thought I’d let you know ahead of time so we can work something out with your schedule.”

  “When’s the date?”

  I told him, and he glanced at the fridge calendar. Then he shook his head. “Crap. We have a charity event right on the same date. What are the odds?”

  “Is it mandatory?”

  “It’s the owner’s pet project, so I’d say so. The charity function is for the Dahl Foundation. They do amazing things for kids in underperforming schools. We have to make an appearance. Sign some autographs and take some pictures.” He furrowed his brow. “There’s no way I can miss it.”

  “You can’t tell me they don’t make exceptions. If a spouse or family member has an event, surely they would excuse you just this once.”

  “I’m sure they would.” His tone was even—too even—and it was clear to me he was trying to hide his exasperation. “But you’re neither of those things.”

  I tried not to react, but it took everything in me, and I wasn’t entirely successful. Some of what I was feeling must’ve shown on my face, because he immediately looked stricken. “According to them,” he rushed to correct. “Because they don’t know about you.”

  “Of course,” I said flatly.

  “Jesus, Kelly, you know you’re everything to me. You know that, don’t you?”

  I looked down for a moment and tried to get my face under control. It was just an unfortunate slip of the tongue. Simple words that just came out all wrong. There was no need to guilt-trip him, especially when he looked crushed.

  “I know that,” I finally said. “Let’s not get mired in semantics.”

  “Kel—”

  “I know that,” I repeated firmly so he’d know I meant it. “And I know that came out wrong.”

  “Well… good.” It was clear he wanted to press the topic, but I hadn’t given him anything to work with. “I’m sorry I’m not going to make it. I know you worked hard to get picked, and I know this is important to you.”

  “No, it’s fine. I guess in my head, I just saw you being there.”

  “I’m sorry. Maybe someone can record it, and I’ll watch every minute.” His eyes lit up. “Or livestream it for me.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Maybe Connor can do it for me.”

  “Connor?”

  I briefly wondered if there would ever be a time when he didn’t say Connor’s name in that tone of voice. I sent him a measured look. “Now is really not the time.”

  He held up his hands. “I was just verifying that you would be going with your best friend and former fuck buddy to a very romantic place. Alone.”

  “Yes, Blue, the Radisson in Bluebell, Michigan, is really the height of romance. Like Paris in the goddamned spring.” I balled up the empty plastic baggie I’d forgotten I was holding and tossed it on the counter, where it slowly unfurled. “Besides, I just asked you if you could go, and you said no.”

  “Not because I don’t want to go. I just can’t swing it. And it’s not like I can tell Coach I need to be excused. You know how he is. He didn’t want me away with a fucking knee injury, never mind because my best friend has a speech.”

  “I’m not just your—” That kind of talk wasn’t going to get us anywhere good. “I said I understood, didn’t I?”

  “You’re acting like you’re mad.”

  “Well, I’m not. So let’s just drop it.”

  “‘Just drop it’ is not exactly the universal phrase for ‘we’re okay.’ It’s actually kind of passive-aggressive of you—”

  The kitchen door swung open and Warner wandered through.

  “Whattup” was all he offered over his shoulder as he headed straight for the cabinets.

  He opened one, briefly examined the contents, and banged it shut noisily. How he managed to elicit such an obnoxious sound from my soft-touch cabinets, I’ll never know. He proceeded to repeat the same annoying process to the entire top row.

  “Hey, Kel-dog, you got any more chips?” he threw over his shoulder. “Actual chips and not those Veggie Straw things?”

  Clearly he didn’t understand Veggie Straws were not made entirely of vegetables. The veggies were mixed up with the bodies of annoying friends and then compressed into straws.

  We stared at his back as he continued to rifle through the cupboards. He clearly wasn’t perturbed that I hadn’t answered his query and was oblivious to what he’d interrupted. And why would he be expecting to interrupt us arguing like an old married couple? By the same token, why didn’t any of the guys think it was odd for Blue to hang out at my house so much? I guess Ivanovich was right when he told me last year that people only saw what they wanted to see.

  “Guys?” The last person on Earth to get a clue finally turned around. He blinked at our stony faces. “Hey, did I interrupt something?”

  “No,” I said shortly. “I keep some chips in the lower cupboard. Right behind the pots on the left.”

  Blue narrowed his eyes at me as Warner dug for my backup secret stash, and I smiled. Fools. I even had a backup to the backup. There was a bag of Doritos in the fake fireplace he’d never find. Good a place as any. Who needed a fireplace in South Florida anyway?

  Warner whooped and p
ulled out a bag of Sea Salt & Vinegar Kettle Chips. “Bro,” he said approvingly. “Any dip?”

  “Check the fridge.” I’d never been more glad for the army of marauding football players in my living room, mostly because I was about to say some shit that should probably remain unspoken.

  My phone rang, and I checked the display to find Connor’s picture, the one I’d taken of him while we were at a game and he was half-buzzed and holding up a blue foam finger.

  As I left the kitchen, I heard Blue’s exasperated voice behind me. “Dude, don’t use your fingers. Use a spoon. What are you, some kind of animal?”

  Even in my darkening mood, I snorted in amusement.

  CHAPTER 8

  Blue

  IT WASN’T even a question that I would follow Kelly upstairs. It was just a matter of when. I helped Warner plate his dip and chips like a civilized human being and brought Ivanovich a fresh beer. Then I kicked Warner in the shins when he tried to move Kelly’s laptop from the ottoman to the floor so he could prop his feet up.

  I rescued the laptop and put it on top of a high shelf. It was like I was babysitting a bunch of kids—big kids who were allowed to have hot wings and beer. I sat quietly on the couch for the next ten minutes and tried not to look like I was ready to jump out of my skin.

  By the time I slipped upstairs, he was just hanging up the phone. “Who was that?”

  “Holly. She’s at Schmitty’s with Connor and Paige. I think I’m going to meet them there for drinks and share my good news.”

  “Right now?” I glanced at my watch. “I thought I could get rid of the guys, and we could—”

  “I’m debating on whether I should shower or just go as is.”

  I gritted my teeth. Clearly I’d given him just enough time to slip firmly into avoidance mode. “What time are they expecting you?”

  “It’s nothing formal, really. I’m just dropping in.” He snapped his fingers. “I remember what else I’d been meaning to talk to you about. I forgot to tell you that my mom wants us to come down for Thanksgiving. I checked your schedule, and you’re not playing. Maybe we can stay the weekend?”

  “We?” Even as the word flew out of my mouth, I wanted it back.

  He paused. “Is there any reason it shouldn’t be we?”

  “No.” I shrugged uncomfortably. “I just wasn’t aware we were telling your parents.”

  “I didn’t tell my parents anything.” His voice was rife with testiness. “It would just be you and me coming for dinner like we usually do.”

  He was right, of course. We’d always gone to his parents’ house for Thanksgiving dinner, even when we weren’t a couple. It just felt different now that we were together. I couldn’t help that. His parents were perceptive as hell, and they’d known me since I was a little kid. Our secret would be toast within six minutes of entering the front door.

  So what? a belligerent voice in my head asked. They love you, and you know they won’t care that you’re bisexual.

  That wasn’t the only part I was worried about. What would they think of me not being with him publicly? Would they think I was ashamed of him? That I was hiding the most important person in my life? I had a feeling his mother would be less than pleased. She’d be disappointed in me, and unlike my father’s disappointment, which I’d had a steady diet of since I was a child, hers meant something. I didn’t want to deal with that until I had to.

  “Just forget it,” he finally said.

  “Will you just give me a sec? I’m trying to think. I have to check with Penny, but I think she booked me for an interview with a magazine. If that’s the case, you know I can’t blow it off.” Despite his unimpressed look, I continued on doggedly. “If your parents are willing to push back dinner, I’ll try to get there on time.”

  “Try?” He opened his mouth and closed it, neatly biting back a response acidic enough to dress a kale salad. Knowing Kelly as well as I did, for as long as I have, it was probably something like “Don’t do me any fucking favors.”

  “We really don’t do much together, do we?” he finally said.

  “What’re you talking about?”

  He stared at me for another moment and then shook his head. “Nothing. It was just an observation.”

  I furrowed my brow. “It kind of sounded like an important observation.”

  “Just forget it. I’m making something out of nothing.” He blew out a breath. “I’m going to shower and get changed into something more comfortable. I think getting out of my work clothes will help me relax and probably make me a little more understanding about… well, everything.”

  I didn’t bother to respond to that. Kelly wasn’t hell on wheels when he came home from work. Despite all his complaints, he liked his job and genuinely enjoyed teaching a subject he’d clicked with all his life. He usually came home tired but happy, fairly satisfied at how he’d done a job he enjoyed. So the tension wasn’t work.

  The tension was us.

  Careful not to look my way, he pawed through the dresser, his shoulders tense. By the time he brushed past me with a handful of clothes and a towel draped over his shoulder, my jaw was clenched. I needed Kelly’s attention like I needed air. We both knew that. I’d rather he yell in my face than ignore me. When I factored in how pathetic and needy that sounded, I was all but ready to throw something.

  I silently stewed as I watched him set up his bathroom supplies on the countertop like a small sundries army. “You going to keep ignoring me?”

  “I’m not ignoring you.”

  “It sure feels like it.”

  He didn’t look up. “I can’t help how you feel.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  My irritation grew, and even though I knew I was going to regret it, I couldn’t help but push. “Don’t be all passive-aggressive with me. If you have something to say, just say it.”

  “Okay.” His silvery gaze leveled me in the mirror, distant and a little cold, and the phrase “be careful what you wish for” drifted through my head. He held up a finger. “One. You don’t want to come to the conference because you’d have to ask your coach to be excused. He’d ask you for what, and you’d have to tell him why, and he’s already suspicious of our relationship.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it? Two.” Another finger joined the first. “I think you’re glad you have an obligation on Thanksgiving. You don’t want my parents to see us together, because they might guess there’s something going on.”

  “Also wrong.”

  “Am I?” he demanded. Another digit flew up. “Three. You’re constantly jealous of Connor because you think he can give me everything you can’t.”

  That sent my temper shooting into the stratosphere. I barely recognized the growl that came out of my throat. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  He placidly surveyed me in the mirror as though he couldn’t even be bothered to be angry about it, and damn if that didn’t make me even angrier. “I said that’s what you think. Not reality. You’re well aware of the fact that if I were with Connor, we certainly wouldn’t be in the closet with our relationship. He would come to my conference as my partner, and I’d introduce him as exactly that. We would go to my parents’ house on Thanksgiving, and everyone would know that we were a couple. And at your New Year’s Eve party, when the ball dropped at midnight, I could kiss him on the mouth instead of giving him a bro hug—”

  “Just stop. Okay?” Frankly, the less I imagined Connor kissing Kelly, the safer Connor would be.

  That last example went a long way to deflating my anger. I could remember the moment well. The mood of the room was jubilant and celebratory as we counted down in unison. I remembered looking at him just then and being amazed at what a difference a year could make.

  He was wearing those stupid party glasses in the shape of the year and a party hat that listed drunkenly to the side. He had a glass of champagne in one hand and a cheeky grin on his face—the kind t
hat really made his dimples pop. If I had to guess, that grin was probably due to the fact that he’d managed to get liquor, even though I instructed the bartender to cut him off an hour prior. When he locked those laughing silvery eyes on mine, I thought I just might be the luckiest guy in the whole world. I was in love with my best friend, and even better, he loved me back.

  I leaned forward then as the countdown got to one, intent on claiming his softly curved mouth. The shouts of “Happy New Year” brought me crashing back to reality. I remembered we weren’t the only people in the universe—in fact, we were in a roomful of people—and jerked back at the last second. He looked startled for a second and then sent me a wry grin. Then we shared a quick hug and moved around the room to hug other revelers. It was a lost moment that we couldn’t get back—one of many.

  “Why are you bringing all of this up now?” My voice was subdued. “What exactly are you saying here?”

  “I’m saying….” He blew out a frustrated sigh. “I’m saying it’s harder than I thought it would be.”

  Too hard? I couldn’t ask the obvious question that hung in the air like an offensive odor. He was free to walk away. If he did, I would tackle him, of course—that was the only sensible thing to do—but he was still free to try.

  I stalked into the bathroom with purpose as he watched me in the mirror, eyes wide. I wasn’t even sure he was breathing anymore as I crowded behind him. I put my hands on either side of the counter and caged him in.

  “I know our relationship is harder now than when we were just friends. But you can’t give up on me, all right?”

  “Blue.” He tried to turn to face me, but I wouldn’t let him move. “I would never—”

  “I love you, and that makes everything worthwhile. I love you,” I repeated, just because I could. I kissed him behind his ear. Softly. Fleetingly. Then I worked my way down his neck with the same light kisses. “Do you love me too?”

  “That’s a dumbass question,” he breathed. “Are you seriously trying to seduce me again?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered. “How am I doing?”