Last night, there was a message from Dr. Green on my answering machine, asking me to call her back at my earliest convenience. She left the message three days ago, but I had no idea that little red, flashing four on my machine indicated an important message. I assumed the four messages were all from Ditra, and I refused to listen to them because I knew she was beyond the joking stage about me not telling her all the details about my current life, and she had moved into the worried and demanding phase.
In a few days I’ll call Ditra and share everything with her. But first I need to call Dr. Green and find out what my test results are.
Even though I don’t have a coworker immediately within listening distance of my desk, I wait until they all leave for lunch before I call the doctor’s office back.
“Hi, this is Piper Karel. I’m returning Dr. Green’s call,” I tell the receptionist.
“One moment, please. I’ll connect you.”
My palm is sweaty against the plastic phone as I listen to hold music that should be soothing but isn’t. The only music that soothes me now is Blue’s.
I’m sure the doctor is going to give me the worst news of my life once this moment of hold ends. We all know if she had good news, she would have left a simple message on my answering machine at home. She wouldn’t be torturing me by making me call her back.
Finally, the hold music is cut off.
“Piper, it’s Dr. Green. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I reply, wondering if she expected me to be feeling sick, itchy, and feverish by now. Or maybe suffering with morning sickness.
“Great. I wanted to tell you that all your test results came back negative.”
My mouth falls open in surprise and I tap the volume button on the base of the desk phone to make sure I’m hearing her properly. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Is anything going on to make you question the results?”
“No… not at all. I’ve just been worried.”
“I know, and that’s why I wanted to talk to you personally to put your mind at ease.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“As we discussed during your appointment, if you are going to be sexually active with a partner you’re not feeling overly safe with, then I suggest you use condoms in conjunction with the birth control pill. I’d like to see you in another three months for a checkup and to run the tests again.”
More tests. That means something could still be dormant inside me, waiting to sprout up at the most inopportune time.
Gulping, I twist around to make sure I’m still alone. “Do you think that’s necessary?”
“Given the information you revealed during your appointment, yes, I really do. It’s your choice, of course.”
Her words paint a much prettier picture than the reality of what happened during my appointment. The reveal of information was me having a sobbing, hysterical meltdown with my feet in stirrups and my ass at the edge of a paper-lined exam table. Dr. Green and her nurse were both incredibly sweet and comforting during the exam as I rambled on tearfully about Evan and the bridge and the bending over and the dick sucking. They listened to me with empathetic, non-judgmental smiles. The nurse held my hand as I was spread, scraped, and poked, then gave me a paper cup of ice water and a box of tissues. When I had finally calmed down enough to get dressed, I was given a small plastic bag filled with condom samples and pamphlets about safe sex.
“Well, yeah, but I’ve talked to my boyfriend since then, and he hasn’t had as many partners as I originally thought.”
The word boyfriend feels foreign on my tongue, as if I’m speaking another language or perhaps telling a lie.
“That’s good to hear. I still highly recommend practicing safe sex at all times and a checkup in three months. You can call back to schedule. And if you have any questions in the meantime, please don’t hesitate to call me or make an appointment to come see me, all right?”
“I definitely will.”
Relief overpowers me when I hang up the phone, and it’s so overwhelming I actually feel dizzy and sick to my stomach. I grab my water bottle and take a few sips between deep breaths.
“What’s wrong?” Melissa asks, appearing suddenly and dumping a pile of file folders onto my desk. “These are from Anne in accounting.”
“I’m fine.”
“You look weird.”
Ignoring her, I slide the files closer so I can begin to organize them by priority. Melissa can’t take a hint, though, and continues to stare at me until I look back up at her questioningly.
“You know what’s odd, Piper? I could have sworn I saw you the other night, making out with that hippy homeless guy that’s always hanging around downtown, begging for money.”
My jaw clenches as I narrow my eyes at this girl who loves to antagonize me. I knew someday this was bound to happen. Evan and I haven’t exactly always been discrete about public displays of affection.
“Don’t you have work to do, Melissa?”
“Aren’t you even going to deny it?”
That’s when it truly hits me like a brick wall. I’m in love with Evan, and I don’t want to hide or deny it. I refuse to live a lie or cover up my feelings for him just to satisfy other people or to avoid being judged by them.
Love isn’t dictated by what a person does for work or where they live.
“Why should I deny it? He’s sweet, incredibly talented, and hot as hell.”
“He’s homeless, Piper. Are you fucking serious?”
“I am,” I admit casually. “By the way, how’s your fiancé? Is he still unemployed?”
Melissa makes a disgusted face, and I fear she’s going to come right over the top of my desk and murder me here on the spot.
“You’re a bitch,” she seethes. “No wonder you can only get a homeless guy to date you. Nobody else would ever want you.”
I feel guilty as she stomps away in the direction of her cubicle with tears in her eyes, but she instigated me. Saying hurtful words to someone isn’t something I enjoy at all, but as my mom is always telling me, I have to fight back sometimes so people don’t walk all over me. It’s not my fault Melissa is a rude, judgmental bitch who constantly goes out of her way to make me feel bad, so maybe she deserves a jobless fiancé.
Blue usually hears my car pull up in front of the abandoned house every night and waits for me at the shed door, but today when I get there, he’s not standing at the door. Instead, he’s sitting on the floor with his guitar, surrounded by a notebook and scraps of paper. He’s so immersed in scribbling madly with a black crayon that he doesn’t even look up at me.
“Blue?” I say softly.
Without acknowledging me, he rubs his hand across his forehead and plays a few notes, then shakes his head, starts over, shakes his head again, plays a few notes, then bangs his hand on the body of the guitar.
“Fuck!” he yells, reaching for the pack of cigarettes lying next to him. I glance over at Acorn, who’s curled up in the fleece dog bed I bought for him earlier in the week. He was so happy when I gave it to him he wagged his tail and spun around in circles for about fifteen minutes before snuggling into the bed with his cherished penguin.
“Evan.” I take a few steps closer to him. “Are you okay?”
He takes a deep drag on the cigarette and blows smoke up over his head. His eyes are wild, bloodshot with exhaustion, his expression tortured. The handsome smile I love is nowhere to be seen.
“Do I look fucking okay?” He grabs a bottle of vodka from beside him that I somehow didn’t see until now and takes a gulp of it before slamming it back down and picking up the crayon to write more on the tattered notepaper.
My heart sinks like a two-ton rock into my gut. “You’re drinking?”
I kneel in front of him and touch his hand, but he yanks it away as if I burned him.
“I’m trying to write, and I can’t fucking get it. It’s all a mess.” Eyes darting across the page, he shakes his head in frustration and crumples the paper into a ball and tosses it a few feet away with the others.
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “Maybe you just need to take a break for a few minutes.”
His lip curls up in anger. “I don’t need a break. I need to fucking get this song right.”
“It sounds good, from what I heard,” I say, and that’s the truth. I didn’t hear anything wrong at all with the piece he was playing. It sounded just as awesome as all his other songs.
The face he makes is one of complete disbelief and repulsion. “Don’t pacify me. Are you deaf? It’s pure shit. It’s making my fucking ears bleed.”
I want to tell him how wrong he is, but it’s obvious he’s too far down into the tunnel of his own head to listen to any sort of logic, reason, or honest feedback from me. I don’t understand why this particular song has him so stressed out. I don’t think anyone expects it to sound a specific way.
My worry for him heightens as he presses his fingers into his temples, screws his beautiful eyes shut, then strums a myriad of beautiful notes in tune to the nodding of his head, then mumbles something I can’t understand to himself. Sighing, he scribbles some more onto his paper and repeats the process all over again.
It slowly sinks in as I watch him. He expects it to be a certain way. He must be suffering from a self-imposed artist vision of perfection that’s got him all wound up.
When he goes for the vodka again, I reach out and grab the bottle from his hand just before it reaches his lips.
“Evan… I don’t think you should be drinking this. You told me you had problems with alcohol in the past.”
He glares at me, eyes flickering with flames of anger and defiance. “I told you a lot of things.” He yanks the bottle from my hand, and the liquid sloshes around inside. “Don’t get all AA with me, Piper. Leave me alone or just get the hell out of here. Please.”
The venomous tone and nasty words slice through the comforting smile I had forced onto my face, and I slowly rise to my feet, hoping with all hope an apology will quickly chase away the hurt.
“Fine.” My voice shakes with the start of tears when I’m met with deafening silence. “I’ll leave.”
Chewing my thumbnail, I wait for him to look up at me, to ask me not to leave, to pull me down onto the sleeping bag and kiss me senseless, but he’s completely submerged in the song and whatever notes or lyrics he’s fighting a battle with.
“Are you doing drugs?”
The muscles of his narrow jaw tighten, and his tongue sweeps across his lips as he lifts his head to look at me. “No, I’m not. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Evan, that’s not wha—”
“Thought you were leaving.” He turns his attention back to the notepaper, making his feelings very clear.
I grab my purse that’s hanging from one of the hooks that once held a rake, leaving the bag of snacks for him and Acorn on top of the wooden crate we use as a table. I’m still expecting him to stop me when I walk through the door, and I’m sobbing big wet tears and gulping breaths by the time I get into my car and drive away. I swipe my hand across my eyes and peer into the rearview mirror, but the street is still dark and vacant.
Just like Evan’s eyes were tonight.
I toss and turn all night, mad at myself for not trying harder to talk to Evan. In hindsight, I should have handled his bad mood better, been more supportive and less judgy. And now I can’t call him and he can’t call me to talk it over, and I can’t just drive back over there in the middle of the night.
Staring up at my ceiling fan spinning round and round, similar to the carousel of my mind, I wonder if he’s still agonizing over the song. I wonder if he’s drunk. I wonder if he wishes he was on drugs.
I wonder if he regrets not stopping me from leaving as much as I wish I hadn’t left.
The awkwardness of that night and the unconventional inability to call him to find out if he’s okay and to figure out if we’re okay keeps me from going back to see him for days. I have no idea what kind of state he could be in or if he even wants to see me again.
On the third day, I’d possibly give a kidney to find a note in my car, but I find something even better—him. At first, I think I must be hallucinating as I walk across the office parking lot toward my car. I blink at the vision of him leaning against the hood, wearing a black sweater and leather jacket I’ve never seen on him before. His long hair blowing away from his face in the autumn breeze makes him look like an edgy model on the cover of a rock magazine, exuding confidence and dripping sensuality. When his face lights up with a smile, all my doubts fade away, and I know we’re okay. I know he’s okay.
“Sorry about the other night,” he says when I’m close enough for him to pull me into his arms. “I was having a bad day.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“Do you have any plans?” he asks.
“Nope.”
“I do.” He flashes me a cocky grin and takes my car keys from my hand.
“I guess you’re driving?” I tease, going up on my toes to kiss his cheek.
He slaps my ass playfully. “Get in.”
I’m excited when he drives down Main Street, away from town, and turns onto a favorite road of mine that’s home to old farmhouses that still raise horses, cows, and chickens. Many of them have farm stands set up on the side of the road.
“Come over here and kiss me.” With just a few words, he’s got my heart racing and my mood soaring.
Smiling, I lean across the seat and quickly press my lips to his. Before I can lean back, he touches my leg just below the hem of my skirt.
“You’re wearing new lipstick.”
I love that he notices little things like this. “It’s called Raspberry Razzle Dazzle. I mostly bought it for the name, but now I kinda like the color.”
The callus on his finger snags on my black stockings as he inches his hand farther under my skirt.
“I want your lips on me.” He glances at me, then back to the road. “I want you to suck me.”
“Now?”
I watch in shock as he unbuttons his jeans then pulls the zipper down, using his knee to keep the car straight on the road. My eyes take in the thick bulge straining against his faded black boxers.
“Isn’t this dangerous?” I ask as I turn my body toward him.
“Unless a cow jumps in front of us or you bite me, we’re fine, babe.” He grasps my thigh and pulls me closer. “C’mon, beautiful.”
Throwing caution out the window, I push his jeans and boxers down just far enough for me to grab his hard cock and bow my head between him and the steering wheel. The moment I take him into my mouth, he moans and slides his free hand all the way up my skirt. After he rips through my thin nylon stockings, the burst of cool air between my legs is quickly followed by the warmth of his hand as he moves his fingers between my lips.
I suck him harder as he thrusts a finger inside me, and I hope he doesn’t get distracted enough to crash the car. I don’t want to be found dead in a mangled mess with my head wedged into the steering wheel and a cock in my mouth. My parents would be horrified. Ditra would be impressed, though.
His cock grows harder and hotter, pulsing against my tongue, and the thrust of his hips toward my face sends waves of erotic excitement through me. Nothing turns me on more than his moans and sighs, his dirty talk, and the way his body reacts to my touch. As I wrap my lips tighter around his shaft, he pushes two fingers into me and rubs his thumb against my clit, touching it with just the perfect amount of pressure. I drag my lips and tongue up to the tip of his cock. He lets go of the steering wheel to fist my hair and pushes me back down, holding me there with his cock rammed against the back of my throat, followed by spurts of hot cum.
Still holding my hair, he pulls my head up and kisses me before letting me fall back onto the passenger seat. I’m still trying to catch my breath as I kick off my shoes and wiggle out of my ruined stockings. Then I pull my skirt back down and try to compose myself.
“I don’t know how to love you, Piper,” he says roughly. “But I know I love you a little more every day.”
I turn to look at him with tears brimming in my eyes because his words are masked with so much sadness and regret, my heart hurts.
“Love doesn’t have rules, Blue. The way you love me is perfect. And I love you. That’s all that matters.”
The click of his tongue piercing against his teeth is his only response, and that’s okay. Our love may be unexpected and flawed, but it’s ours. That’s all that matters.
What I see before me sucks the breath right out of my lungs. We hardly spoke on the way back into town, other than deciding on what to get at the drive-thru burger place.
He insisted I enter the shed first, and he came in slowly and nervously behind me.
Flameless electric candles in assorted sizes are placed around the sleeping bag and a few on the small wooden shelf nailed into the wall. There’s even two small ones placed by Acorn’s bed. A glass vase in the corner sprouts six red silk roses. The tiny space glows warm amber, and if I let my eyes blur, the space resembles a cozy rustic cabin bedroom in the mountains. Speechless, I look over at him. He watches me, drinking in my reaction.
“It’s beautiful,” I say wistfully.
He steps toward me and takes my hands in his, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. “I wanted to give you the first time you didn’t get. Something romantic you can remember.”
I ignore the fact that he preceded this romantic gesture by asking me to blow him while he was driving my car, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and a dog in the back seat. It’s the thought that counts, right?
“This is so sweet,” I say. “Where did you get all this?”
“At the dollar store. I didn’t want to leave real candles burning in here. I don’t want to burn the fuckin’ place down.”
I laugh and nod. “I like them. We can keep them.”
“I thought maybe you could take one home with you and put it by your bed. So you know I’m thinking about you.”
I tighten my hands around his. “I’d love that.”
He slips his fingers from mine and slowly pulls my blouse over my head, laying it on the floor before circling my waist with his hands. “You…” he says, leaning down to kiss my neck. “You don’t know how you wreck me.”
My eyes close and my head falls back in bliss as he sucks the flesh of my neck between his lips and gently bites.
“My head is fucked with you. Every note, every word I write is haunted by you…” He unclasps my bra and whisks it off to cup my breasts in his palms. “All I can hear is your voice. All I see is your eyes. All I can feel is your body…”
His lips leave my neck and come down on my mouth, hard at first, then gradually softer. I can tell he’s struggling to be slow and gentle as his breathing grows ragged and deep.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against his lips.
“Don’t be. I need it. I need you.”
Fueled by his words, I push his leather jacket from his shoulders. It falls with a thud to the floor when he shrugs it off. The new black cable-knit sweater comes off him next, and I run my hands up his toned, inked torso, reveling in how beautiful every inch of him is. He helps me step out of my high heels and skirt, and I briefly recall my torn stockings on the floor of my car.
He backs us up to the sleeping bag as we kiss. He kneels in front of me and my body trembles when he kisses a path from an amazingly sensitive spot behind my knee all the way up to my inner thigh. I grab his head in surprise when he lifts my leg over his shoulder and starts to devour my pussy with his lips and tongue. I clench at his long hair as he fucks me with his mouth and flicks the metal piercing over my clit. Just as I’m on the verge of climaxing, he pulls his mouth away and looks up at me with a lusty grin.
“You don’t get to come yet,” he scolds in a raspy voice. “I want this little pussy to come all over my cock.”
I almost have an orgasm just hearing him talk dirty to me, and those burning eyes of his aren’t helping. I run my fingers through his hair and tighten my leg around him.
“Tell me what you want, Piper.”
“Just you,” I reply, pulling him closer. “Any way I can have you.”
Kisses all over my stomach and breasts lull and excite me, my body humming with desire and love and feelings I have no way to describe.
He gently pushes me down on my back and then kneels between my legs, riveting his eyes onto mine as he takes his jeans and boots off. He moves slowly, deliberately teasing—and I love every second of it. Tattoos illustrate almost every inch of his rock-hard body like a map of dreams and visions coming to life. Jet-black hair falls in silky waves down his chest, and I ache to run my fingers through it and feel it brush against my skin. I reach for him eagerly as he leans his arms on the sleeping bag on either side of my head, and I run my hands up the length of his spine to clasp my hands behind his neck.
“Always feels like I’m crushing you.” He strokes his finger across my cheek.
“You’re not going to crush me. I like you on top of me.”
Taking a deep breath, he brings his face closer and kisses the tip of my nose. “I like being on top of you. And in you. I just don’t want to hurt you.”
Smiling, I wrap one of my legs around his and rub my foot languidly up and down his leg.
“You’re not hurting me.”
“I don’t just mean like this.”
A feeling of doom creeps into my gut, giving me emotional whiplash with the feelings of love and desire I was lost in just mere seconds ago.
I swallow hard before answering. “Then don’t.” That seems easy to me. If you don’t want to hurt someone, then just don’t let it happen.
“Things with you are so easy but so fuckin’ hard, Piper.”
“I don’t really know what that means.”
“Shh… Let’s not talk.”
“You scare me sometimes. I’m always afraid I’m going to wake up tomorrow and you’ll be gone.”
“I promise to give you as many tomorrows as I possibly can.”
“You promise?” I need to hear him say it again because I want all the tomorrows forever.
“Promise.” His lips touch mine and then he kisses his way down my torso. “Spread your legs, baby,” he says when he reaches my belly button.
I open my legs as wide as I can, and he bows his head between my thighs. Warm breath and full lips tease mine in the most erotic kiss imaginable. Sighing with pure content, my back arches as his tongue glides slowly through my slit, from ass to clit then back again. He grasps my outer thighs in his hands to spread me even wider for him, making me moan and grab fistfuls of his hair as he fucks me wildly with his tongue. I nearly lose my mind when he inches up to suck on my pulsing clit, and the hard metal of his tongue piercing heightens the sensation. Shudders quake through my body, and he holds my legs apart, not allowing me to squeeze my thighs around his head to quell the need building in me.
“Blue….”
With lightning-fast speed, he moves up and thrusts his cock balls-deep into my pussy right as I’m mid-orgasm. A cry escapes me, and I wrap my arms and legs tight around his sweaty body, grinding my hips against his as I continue to shudder uncontrollably. Suffocating me with his wet, musky mouth and tongue, he ignores all my gasps and whimpers as he pummels me slow and deep.
I gulp his breath into me and rake my nails down the flesh of his back, enraptured with his giving and taking control over my body. When my breathing has calmed, he turns us onto our sides with his cock still buried inside me and lifts my leg over his hip. He caresses the back of my thigh and squeezes my ass, pulling me against him as he rocks into me. He cups my neck and brings my lips to his again, and we kiss hungrily as the ecstasy starts to build all over again. The angle of his cock in this position feels amazing and has me dripping over him. As our bodies slam into each other, he moves his hand down between my ass cheeks to finger my hole alongside his dick, then slides it back up to press his slick finger into my ass. I squirm in surprise, but he holds me firmly in place.
“Don’t move,” his deep voice whispers, and he slowly slides his finger into me, stretching the tight flesh.
Hushing and soothing me with his lips, he begins to thrust his finger and cock into me simultaneously. The mix of sensations is erotically intoxicating and has my entire body in a frenzy, aching for more despite the slight invasive pain. When I moan with a mix of frustration and pleasure, he growls in response and sinks deeper and faster into me, catapulting us both into orgasm. I watch him as he comes, and I’m caught up in the way his eyes close and his full lips part as he groans and how his wild hair sticks to his forehead. He’s hot as hell, and I’ve never met a man more breathtaking.
Or heartbreaking.
I used to be in bed every weekend night by eleven. Sometimes midnight if Courtney and I watched a movie together or if I was reading a really good book and kept reading just one more chapter. Since I’ve started seeing Blue, I stay with him until I can barely stay awake, and then I drive home, sometimes at two or three in the morning.
It’s 2:45 when I quietly creep down to my apartment after spending the night with Blue and having our romantic first-time sex do-over. I highly doubt most first-time sex experiences include having a finger in one hole and a cock in the other, but everything with Blue is unique and out of the ordinary, and that’s one of the things I really love about him.
“Where have you been?” I jump and do an insane ninja-style flailing of arms, dropping my purse and my flameless candle in the process. I reach for the light switch in the dark and see Ditra sprawled out on my bed.
“What are you doing here?” I demand. “You scared the shit out of me. And how did you get in here?”
“Courtney let me in. Hours ago, I might add.” She sits up and scrutinizes me. “You look like you just got your brains fucked out.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I make a face at her and kick off my shoes. “How can you tell? And I’m not saying I did. I just want to know what kind of visual evidence a good fuck leaves?”
“Well, smeared lipstick for one. Red and puffy lips. Messy hair. Dazed orgasm eyes.”
“Dazed orgasm eyes?” I repeat, laughing. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s kind of how people look when they’re stoned, only it’s an orgasm high. Or low.”
I toss a throw pillow at her. “You’re insane, you know that?”
“Maybe. But I’m right, aren’t I?”
With a sigh, I stand and quickly change into yoga pants and a faded T-shirt.
“Fine. Yes. We had sex. Are you happy now?”
“I already knew you did. I know you, Piper.”
I pile some pillows against the headboard and settle myself next to her. I’d like to say I’m surprised she’s cornered me like this, but I’m not. This is the type of friend Ditra is. Sometimes that’s good, and sometimes it’s annoying as hell.
“You’ve been avoiding me for weeks. Remember our weekly dinner? When’s the last time that happened?”
“I’m sorry… I’ve just been really distracted.”
“No shit. I understand how exciting it is to fall in love, but I’m worried about you. You’ve never just cut me off from your life before.”
“I haven’t cut you off,” I protest, hating she feels that way. “I just needed to get my head together about things before I wanted to talk about it; that’s all.”
“I left you about a hundred messages.”
“I know.”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. I’ll sleep here if I have to. I fed your cat and cleaned his litter box, so don’t think you can use that as an excuse to go off and avoid talking to me.”
Shaking my head at her, I realize I don’t even know what to say. I know she wants giddy girl talk like we used to have when we were sixteen. She wants me to reveal every detail about Evan and what we do together. In a lot of ways, I want to because I’m happy and excited and I want to tell her how amazing he is. But I can’t do that without also telling her about some of my worries and fears, and those are the things she will hone in on and analyze the hell out of and want me to analyze right along with her. I’m not ready to analyze. And then, of course, there’s Evan’s living situation.
“Piper? Talk to me. You’re gnawing on your lip like a rabid dog. That means you’re confused.”
“I’m not confused… Okay, maybe I am a little bit.”
“Would you just talk to me? I’m your best friend. I know I’m a pain in the ass, but I love you. You know that, right?”
I smile at her. “Of course I do. And I love you, too.”
She climbs off the bed. “I’m going to go make us some tea. When I get back, let’s talk, okay? You’re just going to spit it all out.”
“All right. While you’re doing that, I’m going to use the bathroom and wash up a little.”
Thankfully, she doesn’t make any comments about me wanting to clean myself up, and ten minutes later, we’re back in my bedroom. Archie prances around the bed and puts his butt in our faces.
“Is it that guy who was at the bar that night? What was his name? Red? Blue?”
I grin at her as I sip some of the warm, sweet tea. “Blue. His real name is Evan.”
“I was surprised. He’s not the type of guy you usually go for. Don’t get me wrong, he’s wicked hot. I mean… those eyes and the hair and the tats. Holy shit.”
“Trust me. I know.”
“Where’d you two meet?”
“At the park by my office. I go there every day during my lunch break to read.”
“Oh. Does he work near there, too?”
“You could say that….”
“Is he a full-time musician?”
“Yes, in a way.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Why are you being so vague? Is he some kind of porn star? If he is, I’m down with that. They make a shit ton of money.”
“Ditra! He’s not a porn star. Jesus! He plays guitar in the park.”
“Like a concert?”
“Yeah, sort of like that.”
She frowns with confusion. “Every day?”
I finally give in. “He’s a street musician.”
She looks at me expectantly, waiting for more of an explanation, and when I don’t give it to her, I see the gradual realization cross her face.
“He plays in the park for money,” she says.
I nod.
“So people give him tips as they listen and walk by. He’s not getting a paycheck.”
“Right.”
“So he doesn’t quite have a real job.”
I shake my head and place my empty teacup on my nightstand. “No. Not really.”
“Are you giving him money?”
“God, no. Nothing like that.”
“He’s not living out of his car, is he?”
She must notice me wince, because her face and shoulders fall as she stares at me.
“Tell me he’s not, Piper,” she begs.
“He doesn’t even have a car,” I finally say. “He’s homeless.” There. I said it. Now she knows. “I know what you’re going to say. But I love him. I honestly, truly love him. He makes me happy and he makes me feel beautiful, and he’s smart and funny and so talented. I don’t care about where he does or doesn’t live. It doesn’t matter to me.”
For a moment, she looks as if she’s gone into shock. She’s just sitting there staring at me, unblinking, with her mouth partially open. Eventually, she shakes her head a little and runs her hand through her hair. “Fuck. I seriously don’t even know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything. I don’t want you to.”
“Do you parents know?”
“Are you kidding? Of course not. You know how they are. They’d lock me down here and never let me back out.”
“True. It’s just… you’re so beautiful. You’re smart and sweet, and you have a good job. You don’t have to settle for someone like that—”
“Settle?” Anger rises in me. “I’m not settling. I want to be with him.”
“I’m not trying to make you mad. I’m just trying to understand. Cut me a little slack, okay? This wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m tired.”
“You’re not getting rid of me. We’re talking about this whether you like it or not.”
“You’ll never understand.”
“Maybe not, but I’m trying to. Where exactly does he live?”
Letting out a deep, frustrated breath, I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms round my legs. “When I first met him, he was sleeping under an old bridge in the park. He walks around and plays guitar during the day, and on some nights, he plays in bars for money, like the night we ran into him. But now he’s sleeping in a shed in the backyard of an old abandoned house. It’s on a dead-end street. No one is ever down there. It’s safe.”
“A shed? So where do you guys hang out? Where are you having sex? Are you paying for sleazy hotel rooms? You could get fleas, Piper. Or bedbugs. You have massive OCD and germ issues, and you’re fucking in cheap hotels?”
“No. We hang out in the shed. He has a sleeping bag. It’s not really dirty at all. He cleaned it.”
“You’re fucking in a shed?” she practically yells.
“Stop it!” I hiss. “First of all, we’re not fucking. We love each other. You’re making it sound dirty, and it’s not.”
“Well, it sounds sleazy. Can’t you at least bring him here?”
“No. My parents would be all over it and ask a thousand questions. Plus, he has a dog. I can’t bring a dog in here. Archie would be petrified.”
“Does the dog sleep in the shed, too?”
“Yes. He’s a really nice dog. He’s calm and well behaved, and he’s always clean. They both are.”
“Piper, I seriously don’t even know what to say at this point. This is way worse than what I was thinking.”
“Why? Why is it worse? He’s a nice guy. Isn’t that all that matters?”
“No, it isn’t! You’re only twenty-one! You should be going on dates and having sex in a real bed in some guy’s apartment. Not in a fucking shed on a dead-end street! I care about you, you idiot. And this is all sorts of fucked up. Even I wouldn’t do something like this, and I’m the crazy one here!”
“You’re not crazy. You’re just experimental.”
Leaning back against the pillows next to me, she covers her face with her hands. “You’re going to make me cry. See what you do? You see the good in everyone.”
“Why is that bad?”
“It’s not. It’s wonderful. It’s why you’re the best friend in the whole world, and it’s probably why this homeless Blue guy loves the shit out of you.” She leans on her side to study me. “He does love you, right?”
“I’m pretty sure he does.”
“I just don’t want you to be used. You’re not supporting him, right?”
“No. Not at all. Sometimes I pay for things, but he does, too. It bothers him when I try to pay.”
“Good. Let him pay if he can.”
“Don’t tell anyone about me and him, Dee. I’ll tell my family when I’m ready.”
“I won’t tell anyone, I promise. Who would believe me, anyway? Are you going to keep seeing him? Do you think this is serious?”
“Yes, I’m going to keep seeing him.” I pet Archie, who’s decided to plant himself between us. “I just don’t really know what the future holds, and that’s what scares me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t stay anywhere very long. He goes from place to place and only stays a few months before he goes on to the next place he wants to see.”
“You don’t think he’ll stay here now that he’s involved with you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve hinted at wanting him to stay, but he gets really skittish and vague. I think he’s afraid of commitment. Not sexual commitment, but commitment to plans and future.”
“Like a job and a house and being an adult?”
“Exactly. He seems to just want to wander around and play guitar.”
“Oh my God. This has heartbreak and years of emotional trauma and therapy written all over it. Are you okay with that? Falling in love with him and then being dumped so he can trek around?”
“No… I’ll miss him like crazy if he leaves. I’ll be devastated.”
“Okay, so if he loves you, then why can’t he get a job? Then you guys can get an apartment and not be shacking up in a shed.” She lets out a laugh. “Shacked up in a shed!” she repeats, giggling.
I glare at her and fight back the tears of frustration burning my eyes. “It’s not funny. I’m going to talk to him about an apartment and see if I can ease him into it. I almost have enough money saved up for a deposit and furniture, and I have a few thousand saved for emergencies. I need another month or two.”
“And what if he says no? What are you going to do then?”
“I don’t know. I can’t think that far ahead.” If I let my brain wander that far, I get bombarded with a thousand what-if scenarios that I just can’t handle right now.
“Well, you might have to. I guess he could stay with me for a while, until you guys get it all figured out. I have that empty room in my apartment that I’m using for a closet, but it will seem like the Ritz to him after sleeping in a shed. If you say he’s trustworthy, I don’t mind if he stays there so you have a safe place to hang out. You can move in, too, if you want. I don’t mind at all.”
“That’s really sweet, but I doubt he’d go for it. I could ask him, though.”
“I would definitely try to talk to him. I’m not too keen on a homeless stranger living in my apartment, but I don’t like this fucking in a shed business at all. You are way better than that. Actually, I don’t like any of this, to be honest, but I’m trying to deal with it because I can see how into this guy you are.”
“I love him, Dee. I think he’s my soul mate,” I say softly. “I just felt this… connection to him the moment I saw him. And I’m pretty sure he felt it, too.”
“I don’t really believe in that shit. I believe in chemistry and things in common and great sex.”
“That’s because you’ve never felt it.”
She shrugs. “Maybe. What I’m feeling is that you better stop blowing me off to hide. You can’t just immerse yourself in him and let him take over your life. I’m going to expect us to go back to our Wednesday night dinners. He’s not going to die without you for a night.” She pulls back the comforter and fluffs up one of the pillows she’s lying on. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m freakin’ exhausted. I’m sleeping here with you.”
I fall asleep wondering how Evan will react to the suggestion of living with me, either at Ditra’s or in an apartment of our own, and I dream of us living in a cute yellow house with white shutters and a white picket fence with Acorn sitting on the porch with his penguin.
