No Tomorrow: An Angsty Love Story

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 around 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 suck 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.

Despite my mother’s mounting disapproval, I’ve stayed with Evan overnight several times this week—only going home to shower, change, and take care of Archie. Blue’s been in a great mood, and I feel as though we’re in a good place together. We’re moving forward slowly but surely. He didn’t take me up on my invitation to accompany me to look at apartments, so I left it alone to avoid pushing him into a bad mood again. My hope is once I move into my own place, I can slowly coax him into shorts visits, which will hopefully lead to him agreeing to move in. Surely he’d much rather live in a nice apartment with me than in the shed.

Today, after much inner debate, I took the leap and put down a deposit on the apartment I like most. It’s half a duplex, which is like two small houses stuck together. I like that better than an apartment building because it feels more like a home to me. It’s perfect, with two bedrooms, lots of windows, a small galley kitchen, large living room, and bathroom. As a bonus, it’s pet friendly and has a small fenced-in yard. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t envision Acorn running around that yard, chasing a ball someday.

To celebrate, I meet Ditra for dinner, and we talk about guys and work and decorating ideas for my new place. Ditra loves to paint and she knows how to do faux painting for accent walls, so I’m excited to really make the place my own. We make plans to meet up next week for our dinner ritual and shopping. I’m glad we’re back on track and she’s forgiven me for becoming a temporary hermit while I got my head together. I’m thankful she’s not the type of friend to hold a grudge.

After dinner with Ditra, I drive across town to see Blue, and I tell him excitedly about the apartment as we sit on the bed together. I take Ditra’s advice to not push him to help me move, or to come over or to stay the night or move in. She thinks he has a fear of commitment and needs things to go at his own pace and be “his” idea. I agree.

“You look happy,” he says when I finally stop babbling on about my new closet space and the quiet street I’ll live on.

“I am. I’ve wanted my own place for such a long time.”

“You deserve it. I loved my first place. It was kind of a shit hole, but it was cool.”

“Was that in Jersey?”

“Yeah. I lived with my buddy, Reece. He’s probably still there.”

This is the first he’s ever mentioned any of his friends and I make a mental note to remember his name in case he brings him up again. “What did you like most about it? Having your own place…”

Head cocked to the side, he thinks about his answer. “I guess being able to just chill and be me. Living in a space that’s a reflection of me instead of trying to be comfortable in someone else’s space.”

“I know what you mean. My parents have lived in our house since they got married. You want to hear what drives me crazy?”

He grins. “Tell me.”

“They have this big dining room filled with all kinds of fancy stuff, and they never use it. It sits empty. I think we’ve eaten in there twice since I was born. And I hate it. It’s such a waste. If that was my house, I’d eat every meal in there, on the expensive plates, and stare out the window at the flowers and bushes they pay a landscaper to take care of. Even if I was just eating freakin’ ice cream, I’d sit there. I wouldn’t be waiting for a special day.”

Laughing, he leans closer and kisses the top of my head. “You’re adorable. I’d make every day special for you if I could.”

“You do,” I reply softly. “I wish you could see that.”

“Me, too, Piper. Me, too.” He stands and takes my hands, pulling me up off the bed to stand in front of him. “You mind if I lay down? I’m getting a bad headache.”

“Of course not. Do you want me to get you anything?”

“No, babe, I’m okay. I just want to lay down in the dark.”

“Do you want me to stay? I can rub your head.”

“Nah. I’ll be okay. Why don’t you meet me at the park tomorrow? I heard it’s not going to be too cold.”

“Okay.” I squeeze his hands. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow will be better. I want you to go home and eat ice cream in the dining room after your parents go to bed.”

I laugh. “I just might do that.”

Cupping his face in my hands, I pull him down so I can kiss his lips. “I hope you feel better. I’ll bring coffee and bagels in the morning.”

“Don’t do that. We’ll go together.”

“Okay.” I pull on my coat and bend down to give Acorn a kiss on his head. “You be a good boy and we’ll get you a doughnut.” He thumps his tail on the edge of his bed and licks my cheek.

As I pull the door shut behind me, Blue is already lying on the bed with his arm over his forehead, and I have to force myself to leave him alone and not run back to try to help him feel better. I get it, though. Sometimes it’s easier to rest alone.