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Authors: Sophia Bleu
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didn’t want to wind up in his paper.
“It’s just a glass, Jillian. Sit down so you don’t get glass in your shoes.”
I looked down at my TOMS and realized he had a point, so I watched as he swept up my accident. As soon as he was done, I jumped up and turned on the faucet, filling the sink with soapy water for the pots.
“You don’t listen, do you?” he asked.
I pointed to the pasta pot, and he passed it to me. “I don’t like feeling useless.”
I left it at that, not bothering to explain that my body made me feel useless on a near daily basis. It was only going to get worse, too, so I might as well do as much as I could now before I became dependent on other people to do things for me.
“You are practically writing this paper for me.” He moved next to me and took the washed pot from me to rinse.
“Am I that full of neurosis?” I asked him, reaching for the next pan.
“It’s not a psych class.”
“It might as well be. We’re supposed to spend all of our time analyzing each other,” I pointed out.
“And what have you discovered about me?” he asked.
I bit my lip, unsure how to answer. Despite how worried I’d been about spending the night analyzing Liam, I hadn’t done much of it. I’d been too obsessed with what he was thinking about me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t come up with something. “You love your family, and you have a lot of respect for women.”
“You got all that from spaghetti?” he asked, bumping his elbow into my side.
“You cook and you help do dishes. I’m not sure my Dad knows how to turn on the dishwasher,” I said.
“Perhaps I’m trying to lure an unsuspecting woman to my bed by pretending I like to do dishes,” he suggested.
I splashed some water at him. “One: I don’t buy that. I think you like to do dishes. Two: I suspect your motives deeply, so your plan is foiled.”
“Curses.” Liam snapped his fingers. “It’s not such a bad thing to make something that’s dirty clean again.”
I burst into laughter, barely able to stay upright.
“I know, I know. That’s what she said.”
“You sound like an evangelical minister,” I teased him when I could speak again.
“I would do the sign of the cross, but, you know, blasphemy,” he said in a serious tone.
“Are you Catholic?” The question jumped out of me.
“I think you know better than to ask me that,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not really religious.”
“Me either.”
We finished the dishes, and I lingered at the edge of the sink, unsure if I should stay or go.
“Another glass of wine?” he offered.
“No,” I said. It didn’t seem like a good idea to stay for another drink. “I should get home.”
“Early class?”
“Yeah.” It was a lie. I never scheduled classes before noon if I could help it, but sticking around with Liam would almost certainly result in Cassie winning the bet, especially if more wine was involved.
“Can I walk you home?” he offered.
“I’m fine. I’m only a block away.” Of course, Liam already knew that. I wanted to avoid the awkward parting at my door, and it wasn’t late enough to warrant an escort home.
Liam followed me to the door, pausing as he opened it for me. “We should do this again sometime.”
“I don’t think Markson will ask us to go on any more dates. I mean, do more projects,” I backpedalled. This was not a date , I reminded myself as I ducked through the open door.
“That’s a shame. I like seeing you outside of class,” he said, stepping out behind me.
The awkward pause came anyway, despite refusing his offer to walk me home. Neither of us seemed to know what to say. If I told him I liked seeing him outside of class too, he would certainly make an effort to make it happen again. But I had a bigger problem than that. I liked the idea of seeing him again. His dinner invitation tempted me too much. That’s why I had to get out of here.
“Thank you for dinner,” I said, turning to face
“It’s just a glass, Jillian. Sit down so you don’t get glass in your shoes.”
I looked down at my TOMS and realized he had a point, so I watched as he swept up my accident. As soon as he was done, I jumped up and turned on the faucet, filling the sink with soapy water for the pots.
“You don’t listen, do you?” he asked.
I pointed to the pasta pot, and he passed it to me. “I don’t like feeling useless.”
I left it at that, not bothering to explain that my body made me feel useless on a near daily basis. It was only going to get worse, too, so I might as well do as much as I could now before I became dependent on other people to do things for me.
“You are practically writing this paper for me.” He moved next to me and took the washed pot from me to rinse.
“Am I that full of neurosis?” I asked him, reaching for the next pan.
“It’s not a psych class.”
“It might as well be. We’re supposed to spend all of our time analyzing each other,” I pointed out.
“And what have you discovered about me?” he asked.
I bit my lip, unsure how to answer. Despite how worried I’d been about spending the night analyzing Liam, I hadn’t done much of it. I’d been too obsessed with what he was thinking about me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t come up with something. “You love your family, and you have a lot of respect for women.”
“You got all that from spaghetti?” he asked, bumping his elbow into my side.
“You cook and you help do dishes. I’m not sure my Dad knows how to turn on the dishwasher,” I said.
“Perhaps I’m trying to lure an unsuspecting woman to my bed by pretending I like to do dishes,” he suggested.
I splashed some water at him. “One: I don’t buy that. I think you like to do dishes. Two: I suspect your motives deeply, so your plan is foiled.”
“Curses.” Liam snapped his fingers. “It’s not such a bad thing to make something that’s dirty clean again.”
I burst into laughter, barely able to stay upright.
“I know, I know. That’s what she said.”
“You sound like an evangelical minister,” I teased him when I could speak again.
“I would do the sign of the cross, but, you know, blasphemy,” he said in a serious tone.
“Are you Catholic?” The question jumped out of me.
“I think you know better than to ask me that,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not really religious.”
“Me either.”
We finished the dishes, and I lingered at the edge of the sink, unsure if I should stay or go.
“Another glass of wine?” he offered.
“No,” I said. It didn’t seem like a good idea to stay for another drink. “I should get home.”
“Early class?”
“Yeah.” It was a lie. I never scheduled classes before noon if I could help it, but sticking around with Liam would almost certainly result in Cassie winning the bet, especially if more wine was involved.
“Can I walk you home?” he offered.
“I’m fine. I’m only a block away.” Of course, Liam already knew that. I wanted to avoid the awkward parting at my door, and it wasn’t late enough to warrant an escort home.
Liam followed me to the door, pausing as he opened it for me. “We should do this again sometime.”
“I don’t think Markson will ask us to go on any more dates. I mean, do more projects,” I backpedalled. This was not a date , I reminded myself as I ducked through the open door.
“That’s a shame. I like seeing you outside of class,” he said, stepping out behind me.
The awkward pause came anyway, despite refusing his offer to walk me home. Neither of us seemed to know what to say. If I told him I liked seeing him outside of class too, he would certainly make an effort to make it happen again. But I had a bigger problem than that. I liked the idea of seeing him again. His dinner invitation tempted me too much. That’s why I had to get out of here.
“Thank you for dinner,” I said, turning to face
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