Liam's List (3 page)

I readjusted the bag on my
shoulder and said sweetly, “And I’ll have a
tall iced coffee in a grande cup with extra ice, three pumps
hazelnut, two pumps classic, an inch of non-fat milk, with a dome
lid and a venti straw.”

Katie cut us a stern look and lowered her
voice to a whisper. “C’mon, quit giving me a hard time. It’s only
my first week here.”

“
We’re trying to be
helpful,” I whispered back.

“
Yeah.” Chelsea nodded in
agreement. “What are you gonna do when those hipster folks come in
here with their ultra-obnoxious orders? The quicker you learn ’em,
the better off you’ll be.”

“
Actually.” I chewed on my
bottom lip. “I’d like to switch my order. Make it a
five shot venti decaf, one pump vanilla, one pump
hazelnut, breve, one sugar in the raw with
caramel drizzle under and on top of the whipped cream. Double
cupped.
Oh, and make sure it’s at one
hundred and twenty degrees.”

“
Annnnd
,” Chelsea said, drawing out the word with exaggerated
courtesy. “I’d like to switch my order, too. Make it a grande extra
hot soy with extra foam, split shot with a half pump of sugar-free
vanilla and a half pump of sugar-free cinnamon and a half packet of
Splenda. Oh, and put that in a venti cup and fill up the extra room
with whipped cream and chocolate sauce drizzled on top.” Almost as
an afterthought, Chelsea tapped her chin absently and said, “And if
you could do some sort of intricate leaf design on the creamy
surface, that would be totally
fab
.”

“
Seriously?” Irritation
crept into Katie’s voice.

I pushed my sunglasses up on my forehead.
“We’re only trying to be helpful.”

“
Yeah.” Chelsea
flashed Katie a saccharine
smile
. “That’s what friends are for. You
can thank us later.”

Katie smiled back at us with all the
synthetic sweetness of Splenda. “And would you like me to put down
your real names or do you want to give me fake names for your
orders?”

“
Katniss Everdeen,” I
replied.

“
Primrose Everdeen.”
Chelsea playfully nudged me in the ribs. “So Katniss over here can
volunteer as tribute.”

Katie took a deep breath, as if steeling
herself. “Anything else?”

“
Actually, scratch that!”
Chelsea exclaimed. “I’ll be Hortencia. Hortencia Juana Montoya De
Los Rosa Covadonga Contreras Ramirez.” Her face lit up. “I’ve
always wanted to have a long Hispanic name.”

Katie rolled her eyes and rang up our
orders.

After we got our drinks, we sat down at our
usual nook. “I think my philosophy professor hates me.” I took a
slow sip of my piping hot coffee. “And it’s only my first day.”

Chelsea sat forward, leaning her elbows on
the table. “Why the hell are you even taking philosophy? I thought
you wanted to be a lawyer.”

“
I do. I figured it’d
strengthen the skills I need in law school. You know, critical
thinking skills, the ability to explain and see ideas. Not to
mention, lots of students use philosophy as a gateway to law
school.”

“
I get it,” Chelsea said.
“But with all that money you inherited from your parents’ life
insurance, you’re set for life. So I say screw that philosophy
course.”

I shrugged. “I thought it’d be a fun course
to take.”

“
Humph,” Chelsea grunted.
“I’d never take a course like that.”

“
Why not?”

“
It’s so frou-frou.” She
pulled a face. “People sitting under trees and talking about
pointless stuff. Trust me, you’ll just end up confusing yourself.
All you’ll do is ask yourself mindless questions like: If someone
with multiple personalities threatens to kill himself, is it
considered a hostage situation? Can an atheist get insurance
against acts of God?” She paused. “Or why hemorrhoids are not
called ass-teroids?”

I shook my head, trying to get that image of
asteroid-shaped hemorrhoids out of my mind.

Chelsea started to speak again, but then she
stopped when her phone beeped. Reaching into her bag, she removed
her phone to check her messages. “Oh, Tommy.” She sighed
dramatically. “Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.”

“
What?” I asked. “What did
Tommy do?”

“
He sent me a picture of
his penis.” Chelsea sighed again. “Here,” she said, leaning forward
and shoving her phone in my face. “Check out my man’s thrill
drill.”

I looked away, but not soon enough. “Um, why
is it so pink?”

“
Hmm…” Chelsea narrowed
her gaze. “You’re right. Vlad the Impaler is looking mighty pink.
Tommy must be jacking off too much.”

“
Oh, hell effin’ no.” I
barely retrained a shudder. “TMI.”

Chelsea did a zigzag finger snap. “Honey, you
asked. I answered.”

“
So…” I lifted my cup and
took a long sip before continuing. “Does Tommy send you pics of his
dick all the time?”

“
Yep. It’s his idea of
sexting. First, he’ll send me a text saying,
Hey, baby. How goes it?
And then
I’ll reply,
Hi, babes, it’s going,
and then I’ll get another text from Tommy
saying,
Here’s my penis,
then BAM, a pic of his pocket rocket.”

My lips quirked and I suppressed a grin.
“Seriously?”

“
Seriously.” Chelsea held
back a groan. “Total mood killer.”

My cup stopped halfway to my mouth. “So what
do you do when Tommy sends you pictures of his package?”

She smirked. “I send ’em to Katie.”

“
Nooooo.
” I concealed my wicked
amusement beneath a giggle.

“
Oh yeah,” she said
gleefully. “Katie
hates
it when I do that. Absolutely
hates
it! She tells me the pictures
make her feel violated.”

“
I certainly don’t blame
her,” I stated matter-of-factly.

“
Sometimes,” Chelsea went
on, “when Tommy won’t stop sexting me, I just type
Oh yeah, baby. Oh yeah, baby
over and over again when I’m really reading a book or
vacuuming.”

I arched a brow. “Are his texts really that
uninspiring?”

“
No, it’s his
spelling.”

“
His spelling?”

“
Girl, you need to check
this out.” Chelsea began scrolling through her phone. Now I know
Tommy’s in the moment and all that so he’s probably typing with one
hand, but seriously. Look at this!” She shoved her phone in my
face. “Look at all ’em typos.”

I stole a quick glance at
one of the texts:
I can be their in 20
minates. I definately wanna eat your cunt.

“
Oh, God,” I said, my
voice trailing off on a laugh. “Now
that’s
a total mood killer. And I’m
not so sure about ‘cunt.’ I just feel like if a guy says
‘cunt,’
he better follow it up with
‘inued.’”

“
Or,” Chelsea added, “he
better be British. But let’s be real.” She gave me a long, pointed
look. “
Cunt
isn’t
half as bad as
minates
.
Or
definately.
” She shook her head.
“Bad spelling does
not
swamp my thighs.”

“
So…” I struggled to keep
my voice casual. “I think Liam wants us to start
sexting.”

Chelsea leaned forward, curiosity gleaming in
her eyes “And? Are you gonna oblige him?”

“
I don’t know,” I answered
truthfully. “I’ve never really done it before.”

“
Pssh!” Chelsea made a
dismissive gesture. “It’s easy. But you have to remember there’s a
certain technique to it. A certain finesse.”

“
Oh, really?” I lifted a
skeptical brow.

“
Yes, really.” She repaid
my cynical gesture with an arched brow of her own. “Trust me. When
it’s done wrong, it can ruin everything. Remember my ex
Johnny?”

I nodded.

“
Well, when we were in the
throes of passion, Johnny told me he was going to pump me full of
babies. That was about two seconds before I dumped his sorry
ass.”

I palmed my face and bit
back a laugh. “He did
not
.”

“
He did,
too
,” she insisted. “And
when we had sex, he liked to ask me if I could feel him inside me.
It made me feel like I was a gaping cavern. I kept wondering if
maybe
he
couldn’t
feel himself inside me.”

“
Oh, Chels. I’m sure he
didn’t mean it that way.”

“
Either way, it was just
the wrong choice of words.
And,
” she went on, “this other guy I
was seeing told me he liked how I carried a little extra weight
because it made my boobs bouncy. Can you believe that? Well, let me
to you this—my boobs bounced right out of that room.
And
they bounced right
out of that relationship.”

“
That’s nothing!” Katie
plopped down on the chair beside me. “My ex told me I had a big ol’
donkey butt.” She made a derisive sound. “He just couldn’t
understand why that wasn’t a compliment.”

Turning to Katie, I asked, “Your shift is
over now?”

“
Yessssss,” she wheezed.
“Thank the Lord.”

“
Wait!” Chelsea prompted.
“This ex you’re talking about, is it Austin Carter?”

“
Uh-huh.” Katie dug
through her bag and pulled out a tube of lip-gloss. “He was so
weird.”

“
How so?” I
asked.

“
Oh my God.” Chelsea
gasped. “You don’t know what he did?”

“
Nope,” I said, popping
the P sound. “Tell me.”

Chelsea practically dissolved into a fit of
giggles. “Katie, you tell her!”

Katie brought the
lip-gloss wand to her lips and applied a shiny coat before
answering. “When we were having sex, Austin liked to say,
I am woman. Hear me roar.
”

A bubble of laughter
escaped me. “Said by a guy? Now that’s
very
strange.”

Katie rubbed her lips together, smoothing the
lip-gloss into the corners. “And that’s not all. For some reason,
Austin thought it was sexy to call me a dirty little slut.” She
huffed a little before adding, “I withheld sexual favors from him
for a month to show him just how nun-like I could be.”

“
So you see.” Chelsea cut
in. “There’s a certain technique to sexting and talking dirty. The
key to making it sound hot is to
not
be extremely filthy. And you
don’t want it filled with too many expletives either. Just tell him
what you want and make it sexy.
Spread me
open. Come finger me, tongue me. I need more. Keep doing that. I’m
almost there.
Blah cakes.”

“
Okay.” I nodded sagely.
“Any other tips? No pun intended.”

“
Well…” Chelsea considered
for a moment. “The thing with sexting is the dialogue can’t just
come from nowhere. You have to somehow weave it into the current
conversation. So if he’s complaining about a mission or something,
you don’t say, ‘Let me suck you dry.’ You ask him what’s wrong or
how you can make him feel better. Kind of corny, but it has to flow
with the situation. Then gradually, you get a little more specific.
And when I say specific, I mean make it descriptive.”

“
I see.”

“
So.” Chelsea drummed her
fingers on the table. “Why don’t you start practicing now? Text
Liam something sexy.”

“
I’ll do it
later.”

Her drumming fingers stilled. “C’mon, just do
it. Go with the flow. Freestyle. Think of it like battle rap.”

“
Joy.” I lifted my cup and
took a long drink. “Now I have performance anxiety.”

“
Don’t worry.” Katie
brushed off my concerns. “I’m sure whatever you text him will be
way better than anything Josh has ever texted me. Usually, he just
says,
Hey, baby. Can’t wait to see your
hot bod, your hot boobs, and your hot ass.
”

I laughed. “Homeboy needs a thesaurus.”

“
See!” Katie said
reassuringly. “You have nothing to worry about. Just be
yourself.”

“
Just be myself.” I pursed
my lips. “I can definitely do that.”

“
And by the way.”
Chelsea’s dark eyes met mine, calm and assessing. “How do you even
keep it so together? If my boyfriend was deployed right now, I’d go
mental. Seriously, I’d be a hot mess.”

I am a hot mess… inside.

Some days all that stress and all that
anxiety threaten to overpower me.

I hang on to every phone call, every email,
and every text for proof that Liam is safe for another day. And I
never delete any of his voicemails.

“
It’s not easy.” I
admitted. “Especially when I can’t control what happens over
there.”

Her expression softened. “Don’t stress
yourself worrying about that. Worrying about what you can’t control
will only drain the strength you need for him.”

Gathering myself, I met her gaze full on.
“You’re right, Chels,” I said quietly. “I need to be strong for
him.”