No Tomorrow Page 14

  In hindsight, I wish I hadn’t brought up Christmas and the apartment because it completely wrecked our first real date night. If I had kept my mouth shut, we’d probably either be having wild sex right now or he’d be playing some new songs on his guitar for me, and I wouldn’t be sitting here freezing while he’s walking off a mood.

  I wait.

  And wait.

  I move the space heater closer to the bed and get up and do jumping jacks to warm myself up, and then I crawl back under the blanket and coax Acorn to crawl under with me. We huddle together, keeping each other warm. I’m hyper aware of every noise outside—tree branches, the wind, an owl, the creaking of the old wooden shed walls. I’m petrified, but I’m even more scared to walk across the dark yard to get to my car in the street, so I hug Acorn and try to shut it all out.

  I love Blue. I’m trying my best to accept him for who he is. I understand his wandering spirit. But I’m cold and confused and scared, and as much as I try to convince myself that I can love Blue for now and give him the freedom he seems to desperately need, I can’t deny that my heart has been hoping for more. The sad reality of us is that I’m hurting him by wanting more just as much as he’s hurting me by not being able to give more.

  We’re stuck… and I have no idea where we’re supposed to go from here.

  Chapter Eleven

  I have a love-hate relationship with the holidays. Especially Christmas. I love the music, the movies, and the decorations. I love the sense of spirit, the coming together of friends and family. I love buying and wrapping gifts. What I hate is the stress and the greed and the rushing.

  This year, I also particularly hate my older sister sitting on her fiancé’s lap next to the fireplace with her big-ass beacon of an engagement ring on her finger and a pile of presents next to her that’s taller than I am. All presents from him, wrapped up in telltale paper clearly from upscale stores like Tiffany and Nordstrom.

  Yes, I’m a jealous, immature bitch for feeling this way, but that’s just where I am in my life right now—hating people who have what I want. And I don’t mean material things. I mean having that special person involved in every part of your life.

  I finger the beaded bracelet Blue gave me a few weeks ago, which I haven’t taken off once and which has more value to me than any diamond tennis bracelet ever could. But he’s not here, and I wish he was.

  As I sip my crystal glass of eggnog, I try to picture Blue here with me, sitting on the loveseat beside me and opening presents. I can easily imagine him laughing and joking with my family, even playing holiday songs on his guitar. Once upon a time, my grandfather played the banjo, and I can imagine him and Blue talking in great depth about music. My grandmother would touch his hair and tell him how unfair it is for a man to have such beautiful, wavy hair.

  That illusion quickly fades, and in its place, I can see my father drilling Blue with questions about what he does for work, what his five-year plan is, and why he’s wasting time playing music when that’s a dead-end dream for hippies. I can hear my sisters giggling about how good-looking he would be if he would cut his hair. I can understand why Blue wouldn’t want to deal with any of that.

  My mother approaches me where I sit in the dining room. “Honey, why are you hiding way over here? Come sit with the rest of us. Grandma can’t even see you sitting this far away.”

  “I’m not hiding, Mom. There wasn’t any place to sit.”

  “There’s always room. Don’t be so shy, sweetie. I thought your boyfriend was going to join us. Your father and I were looking forward to meeting him. You’ve practically moved in with him, and we haven’t even met him yet.”

  My fingers tighten around my glass. “I haven’t moved in with him.”

  “Piper, you’re hardly ever home anymore. That poor cat cries all night for you.”

  My head snaps to face her. I’m sure she must be exaggerating. “What? He does not.”

  “Yes, he does. We can hear him from up here. I’ve gone down to check on him, and he’s just sitting at the door, meowing. The poor thing misses you.”

  God, now I feel terrible. I had no idea Archie missed me when I wasn’t home. He usually ignores me or only comes near me when he wants food or to have his head petted for five minutes exactly. Not a moment less or longer or he’ll bite or scratch me.

  “My boyfriend couldn’t make it. I’m going to go see him later, after we open the presents.”

  “I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere tonight. It’s snowing, and I don’t want to be worrying about you driving around on Christmas Eve in ice and snow. Your grandmother will be worried sick, too.”

  “Mom—”

  “I know you’re an adult, Piper, but that’s no reason to be unsafe or cause your family to worry about you on a holiday. And what kind of man lets a woman drive around at all hours of the night anyway? Especially in the snow.”

  I am not at all in the mood to go down this road with her tonight. I’ve heard it all many times in the past few weeks. “Mom, can we not do this tonight?”

  Her bright red lips part, then close to a thin smile. “You’re right. It’s Christmas. But promise me you won’t go out tonight. The roads are so bad that your grandparents are staying here. Haven’t you looked outside?”

  I’ve been too busy daydreaming to think about the weather. When I told Blue yesterday that I’d be coming to see him tonight, I had no idea it was supposed to snow today. Dammit. My sucky driving sucks even worse in bad weather. Even if my mother wasn’t trying to ground me like a teenager, I wouldn’t be keen on driving across town tonight.

  “Okay.” I give in. “I’ll stay home. But tomorrow I’m going to see him.”

  “If that’s what you want to do. I’d much prefer he come here for dinner, but I’m not going to argue with you. Now come sit in the living room with the rest of the family.”

  I try to enjoy the rest of the night and be happily joyous, but I’m just not feeling it this year. I miss Blue and Acorn, and my heart aches to be with them. I’m worried about Blue being alone, especially if it’s snowing and he can’t walk anywhere to get what he needs or clear his mind.

  Ever since the night at the diner, his dark mood has clung to him like a shroud. There have been a few fleeting moments when he’s laughed and smiled, but it seemed forced. He’s been dark and cloudy, much like the storms he both loves and hates, and I wonder when the rainbow of light and color will return.

  Chapter Twelve

  Eight inches is no joke. It’s much deeper than it sounds. Especially when it’s an unplowed dead-end street. Luckily, I don’t have to stop until the very end of the street, so when my car starts to slide and fishtail down the slight hill, I’m grateful there’s nothing I can crash into.

  Once the car stops sliding, I park crookedly in front of the old, forgotten house, wondering how I’m going to get to the backyard because the driveway hasn’t been plowed and the walkway hasn’t been shoveled. Because it’s an abandoned house and it has to keep looking abandoned, even though Blue is basically living on the property. I understand that he can’t be shoveling a path for me, and as I schlep through the snow toward the house, I’m worried about leaving all these boot prints on the property. Just as I’m walking around the side of the house, Blue appears.

  “I thought I saw car lights,” he says, leaning down for a kiss. “I didn’t know if you were coming today since you didn’t show up yesterday.”

  “It was snowing, and my mom was freaking out about me driving and upsetting my grandmother—”

  His warm lips are on mine again. “Don’t worry about it,” he says with a smile. “I missed ya.”

  “I missed you, too.”

  “Jump on my back and I’ll carry you the rest of the way. The snow is almost up to your waist, shorty.”

  Laughing, I smack his arm. “It is not.”

  “Jump on anyway.” He turns, and I jump on his back, hanging on to his shoulders and giggling as he trudges through while Acorn frolics ar
ound beside us. At the shed door, we stomp our feet to get rid of the snow and then quickly scoot inside.

  “Wow,” I exclaim instantly. Blue’s been busy… rearranging. Everything’s in a different place, as if he moved all the stuff in the room clockwise. The best part, the part that makes my heart jump into my throat and gives me such a burst of happiness that I almost cry, is the tiny fake Christmas tree in the corner decorated with a few strands of glistening silver tinsel. One wrapped present is placed nearby. Blue’s standing in the middle of the room, smiling from ear to ear.

  “I cleaned up a little, and I fixed the door so it shuts better. And I got this tree.”

  “It’s beautiful.” His smile and bright, excited eyes are drastic changes from the last time I saw him when he was still sad, depressed, scribbling, and walking around all night. That mood lasted for days, and I was starting to worry he would never come out of it. Seeing him relaxed and happy again is the best present in the world, and I have to throw my arms around him and hug him because I missed this version of him so much. His embrace is tight and fierce enough to make my ribs hurt, and I wonder if he misses himself when he gets that way.

  “I know I’ve been fucked up,” he whispers into my hair.

  “It’s okay. We all have bad days.”

  We slowly let go of each other, and he crosses the room to get the present from under the tree. “This is for you.”

  I bite my tongue to keep myself from saying, “You didn’t have to get me anything,” because I know how much it bothers him when I say things like that. Instead, I take off my coat and sit on the bed to open his gift. I unwrap it slowly, wanting to relish and remember this moment with my first Christmas present from him. Inside the cardboard box, under crumpled white tissue paper, is a tiny wooden trinket box with a blue bird painted on the front. A few small scratches mar the surface of the wood, but I’m not bothered by them at all. My breathing stalls for a moment as a wave of total adoration for this man washes over me.

  “It’s so beautiful.”

  “Open it,” he urges.

  I do, and it begins to play a melody. It takes me a few seconds to realize it’s not just any melody—it’s the first song he ever sang for me that day in the park. It sounds very different coming out of this itty-bitty box, but it’s definitely “Slayer of My Heart.”

  I gape at him. “Oh my God… is this your song?”

  “It is.”

  I’m almost speechless with the shock of such an unexpected special gift. “It’s amazing,” I finally say, still holding it delicately in my hand. “How did you do this?”

  He sits next to me, and the air mattress sinks considerably under his weight. “There’s this old guy downtown who owns an antique shop. Sometimes I play in front of his store. Mostly for him, though, ’cause he likes music. I bought it from him, and he knew a guy who could make it play my song.”

  Tears are in my eyes when I turn to put my arms around him again. “Thank you. I love it, and I love you.”

  “I wrote that song about you, so I felt like you should have it.”

  Wow. A song about me. And those lyrics… How did they go again? My mind races back in time to grasp them, but he yanks me back with a touch of his hand on my thigh and his lips burning across my cheek.

  His voice is low and husky, filled with pent-up desire. “Take your clothes off.”

  “Wait… You have to open your presents first.” I grab the bag I brought in with me and pull out three gifts—two for him and one for Acorn, who starts to rip his open as soon as I give it to him. Within seconds, he’s got the peanut butter-stuffed bone in his mouth. Blue and I laugh as Acorn carries it over to his bed and gets into serious chewing mode.

  “You just made his year.”

  “Good. Now open yours.”

  He tears his first gift open almost as fast the dog tore into his and slowly pulls the journal out of its dust bag.

  “Piper…” He runs his fingertips over the pebbly black leather. “This is fuckin’ awesome.” He raises it to his nose and inhales. “I so dig the smell of leather.”

  I smile at him sniffing his gift. “Me, too. And it’s so buttery soft.”

  “It’s wicked soft. And you got me a pen.” He twirls the pen around in his fingers the way a seasoned drum player spins their sticks. “This is really cool.”

  “Open the next one.”

  “You shouldn’t have gotten me so much, babe,” he says as he unwraps his second gift. “I feel bad I only got you one.”

  “Stop. It’s not a competition. What you gave me is priceless. It’s your song. And the bird… I know how much it means to you. It makes it even more special to me.”

  He nods solemnly and carefully pulls the beaded necklace out of the thin black velvet box.

  “These are onyx and hematite,” I say quickly, hoping the way he’s staring at it isn’t a sign that he doesn’t like it. “It’s for healing, luck, and protection.”

  “Man… I don’t know what to say. This is so thoughtful. And special. Like you.” He clasps the necklace around his neck and touches it at the front of his chest. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Of course you do. Don’t be silly.”

  “I should’ve been with you yesterday. I know that, Piper. I’m a dick, but I’m not a stupid dick.”

  “Blue, you’re not any kind of dick.”

  “I am. And you let me be one. You’re the first person to ever make me wish I wasn’t like this.”

  “Isn’t that part of love? Loving someone no matter what? Inspiring them? Wanting to be better together?”

  “For some. You sure as shit make my life better.”

  “You make mine better, too. Of course I wish you were there yesterday, but it’s okay. We’re together now, and I’m happy.”

  He puts his journal off to the side and then pushes me down on the bed, slowly crawling on top of me. “I’m gonna show you how happy you make me,” he says hoarsely and grinds his hard cock against my thigh. Capturing my mouth with his, he kisses me so deep I lose my breath and my mind, and I tumble into a sensual, woozy, dreamlike state. Blue has a way of making me feel entirely euphoric, floating, and disconnected from the rest of the world.

  Standing, he towers above me and pulls his shirt off, then unbuttons his jeans and tugs the zipper down. Grabbing his cock, he pulls it out while shoving his clothes out of the way. I lie back and stare up at him, admiring his lean, muscular body and the ink that decorates it. He’s like a walking coloring book, all lines and images and shades of gray and muted color. Even in the chilly room, my body instantly heats when he strokes his hand up and down the length of his shaft. Reaching for me, he grabs a handful of the front of my sweater and yanks me up into a sitting position, bringing me eye level with his cock.

  “Open your mouth.”

  I obey, opening my mouth like a starving bird as I stare up the length of his body to meet his smoldering gaze.

  “Put your hands behind your back,” he commands. “I don’t want you to touch me.”

  His deep voice on those words burns through me like a shot of bourbon.

  I cross my arms behind my back, and he slowly slides the crown of his cock across my waiting lips, moistening them with his salty pre-cum before filling my mouth with his throbbing erection. I open wider to take him in and let him slide in and out of my mouth. As he moves faster and deeper, I close my lips over his hot flesh. I know what he wants. I know what he craves. He doesn’t want me to blow him; he wants to fuck my mouth like he fucks my pussy.

  Holding my head in his hands with his fingers buried in my hair, he rams to the back of my throat until his balls slam against my lips and chin. Breathing air into my nose, I press my tongue up against him and tighten my lips around him. The muscles in his stomach and thighs tighten and flex, and his breathing grows deeper and ragged. He’s almost there. Every part of him is focused on my lips, my mouth, my eyes. His control over me is an illusion because the true control is all mine. Moaning softly, I suc
k my cheeks in around him, swirl my tongue over his cock, and then lean my head back, almost letting him slip from my mouth.

  “Fuck….” His hands tighten in my hair and he yanks my skull back to him, sinking deep into my mouth as he comes with thrusting hips and deep, growling groans that make my insides quiver. Sucking him harder, I milk every bit out of him until his hands are limp on my head and he pulls away to drop to his knees in front of me.

  “You destroy me, babe. Come here.” He pulls me into his arms, kissing me even though I just had a mouthful of his cock and cum.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  “That was beyond fuckin’ merry.” Pulling my sweater up with one hand, he rips off my bra with the other and scatters kisses and random bite marks over my upper body as he takes off the rest of my clothes.

  Breathless, we fall onto the bed together, pulling the blanket over us, and he moves between my open legs to lick me until I’m in a multiple-orgasmic daze, barely able to form coherent thoughts. Kissing me softly, he wraps me up in his arms and sings to me as I fall asleep, and just when I didn’t think I could fall any harder for him, I do.

  For my week stay-cation from work, I’ve been spending my time checking out apartments and hanging out with Blue as much as possible. If it’s not too cold for his fingers, he still plays at the park on most afternoons. Twice this week, he played at the bar, and I loved listening to him actually sing and play guitar live and watching him move around so confidently on the stage. Judging from the reaction from the other people in the bar, they loved him, too.