Misty Blue

167 4 0
                                    

Misty Blue

“You could have just asked me out,” I said while zipping up my jeans. Lou shot me her meaty smile again. Her lips didn’t open, they just curled into a luscious arch of soft pink flesh.

“You could have asked me,” she breathed into my ear. “And what are you closing that for?” She pushed my hand away and lowered my zipper again. “We’re not done yet.”

“You made it perfectly clear that you didn’t want to be asked out.”

“Obviously,” she whispered, pushing me against the cool concrete wall with all of her body weight, “I made a mistake.”

I didn’t go home all weekend. Weeks of unrequited desire for Lou ached to be quenched. And all the doubts I had felt with Claire, the half-heartedness I had experienced with Lucy, the distance from Sarah, my silly crush on Roz and Thursday’s unusual night with Joan, it all had to be purged, expunged. Lou was my new beginning, my clean slate, my fresh challenge. On Sunday afternoon we lay in her smoky bedroom, the light that leaked through the curtains catching the fumes and colouring them misty blue.

“How do you propose we go about this, then? Seeing as you don’t do relationships.” I thought I’d better get the million dollar question out of the way.

“It looks like I’ll have to make an exception for you.”

“I’m immensely flattered.”

“We may need to establish some ground rules, though.”

“Oh no,” I groaned. “I hate those words.”

“Why?”

“They remind me of someone I don’t want to be reminded of.”

“You set the rules, then. I have no idea what I’m doing, anyway.”

“What a cop out.”

“I know we shagged all weekend and that doesn’t really constitute taking things slowly, but, apart from that, I can’t be rushed into this. No U-hauling and no declarations of undying love in the next month, please.”

“You’re funny.”

“Yeah? Most people say I’m way too serious.” Her eyes were the lightest of green, as if the hue had been filtered out. “I just don’t want all that drama, you know. In the past, people haven’t always taken relationships as serious as I have.”

“I have a very dramatic history. I seem to attract it somehow. You can still run, if you want.”

“What about Joan?”

“She’s my trainer. I didn’t want to come to the dinner alone−”

“OK, first rule. Honesty. I’m not blind, Lee. There’s something going on between you.”

“I slept with her, once.”

“No feelings?”

“Not from my side.”

“Anything else I should know.”

“Oh, too much to spoil this lovely Sunday afternoon with. I’ll divulge it in easily processable chunks.”

“You do realise I work with Alex all day and he can’t keep his trap shut.”

“Alex doesn’t know half of it.”

“Tell me about Claire.”

“You tell me about Katy first. Did she fuck you against the wall?”

“No walls were involved.”

“She certainly has changed.”

“She’s not that bad, you know. I quite like her.”

“Not as much as you like me, though?”

“Not in the same way, and it’s not a competition.”

“My therapist will have a field day with this tomorrow.”

“Since when are you in therapy?”

“I had my first appointment right after we met.”

“Did I screw you up so quickly?”

“You said the magic words.”

“Which ones?”

“I don’t do relationships and I don’t fall in love.”

“Yeah, I did say that.”

“We don’t have to call it a relationship, we can just date and shag.”

“And not fall in love?”

“That may a problem, for me at least.”

“The last thing I want to do is cause you problems.” And then, for one last glorious time, we rumpled her sheets and banned the crushing thought of another approaching Monday − and the return to real life − from our minds and filled them with other, far more exciting ones.

To be continued…

Trying to Throw my Arms Around the WorldWhere stories live. Discover now