Blue 2

Chapter Forty-One

When I get home, I immediately turn the heater all the way up. The floor is freezing as I walk into the bathroom for a quick shower. I have nothing to do today but I want to be productive and clean up around the apartment and maybe even make dinner early. I hate and love how domestic I've become since moving in with Blue. My heart flutters whenever I make us something to eat and we cuddle up together on the couch watching a TV show we both enjoy. It's such a simple thing to do, but it's so normal and common among other couples. I'd rather calm and boring over complicated and distressing. When we broke up, I thought I'd never be happy again. Pathetic, I know, but he showed me how to be confident and expressive of my emotions and, most importantly, how to be myself.

After my hot shower, I feel a lot warmer and less affected by the chill in the air. I walk into the bedroom and go straight to my drawer. But I curse to myself, finding there's barely any underwear. I meant to do laundry yesterday, but our favorite show was too twisty and shocking to step away from even for a second. I think we should stop, we're getting addicted. I reluctantly put on the red lingerie I bought with my other pink ones and slip one of Blue's black T-shirts over it and cotton shorts. I brush out the knots in my hair and decide to let it air-dry. While I'm in here, I straighten out the bed and pick up his dirty clothes scattered on

I wish Blue would have invited me to his gig tonight. I would have loved to support him and Finn. But he said it would have been quick and he probably wanted some space from me. To be fair, we have spent a lot of time together since we've moved in. He seems to genuinely enjoy us watching TV and hanging out with each other, but sometimes I worry I'm keeping him from his life. Before me, he loved going to parties and being with his so-called friends and being out because he didn't have a girlfriend and an apartment, but now we spend almost all of our time together. My stomach gnaws at the thought of Blue becoming annoyed by my presence. Is this normal to think about, for a couple that lives together?

I try to ignore my uneasy thoughts as I clean the apartment. I take out the garbage, wash the laundry, fold and put away the clothes, wipe down the kitchen counters, dust the furniture—anything that will take my mind off the possibility of my boyfriend secretly hating me. I know I sound ridiculous, but I can't help it. When I put away the broom, the windows sparkle, the floors are glossy, and there are no dishes left in the sink, and I'm out of breath. That was very relaxing. I feel a weight life off my shoulders and get some homework and reading done, before cooking dinner.

The sound of the door opening and closing an hour later startles me.

"Blue?" I call out, paying attention to stirring the sauce in the pot.

"The one and only," I hear him reply, followed by the lovely sound of him kicking his snow-ridden boots off onto the ground instead of placing them on the shoe rack. I can't beg him enough to make him be neat.

"How was the gig?" I ask.

"Slow and boring. You would have loved it." I hear the mocking smirk in his voice.

"You are so mean."

"And starving." He walks into the kitchen and loops his arms around me, dropping his head in the crook of my neck. He smells like whiskey and coconut, it makes a heavenly combination. "What are you cooking? It smells amazing." He tries sticking a finger in the pot, but I swat his arm away.

"It's chicken pasta. And you can't taste it until it's cooled down, unless you don't mind burning your tongue." I laugh.

"But I'm hungry now..." he whines.

"Go find something else until it's done," I tell him.

"What about you? You look appetizing to me..." His vaguely dirty words make my head fuzzy and my mouth dry. Taking my stunned and aroused silence as a go ahead, he smiles against the vein thrumming under the skin covering my neck and moves his hands up my stomach. His T-shirt I'm wearing rises up my smooth skin, stopping just under the red lace bra, but before he can discover what I am wearing, his phone rings.