A Hue of Blu

Year Four/Week Four – Present

“I’m not talking to him again,” I stated, sipping on a glass of prosecco rosé. “Ever again.”

“You have class with him,” Carter said.

“Two times a week, Blu,” Fawn added.

We sat in a leather booth at the back of Teladela, a fusion cuisine Fawn insisted we tried with no room to argue.

I rolled my eyes. “So what?”

“Run me through what he did again.” Carter gripped his beer, watching me with criticism. Or maybe it was empathy. I could never tell the difference.

Truthfully, I didn’t even want to replay the events of last week. It was an embarrassment. I was an embarrassment.

How dare he speak to me like that? What did I ever do to him? I was complimentary, direct and assertive. My intentions were crystal clear.

I set up the perfect story. I did everything right. And yet, he was cold and distant. “I didn’t notice,” he’d said when I apologized for not texting him.

He didn’t think about me at all.

“I got on his nerves, and now he wants nothing to do with me.” I wished I hadn’t said it out loud. Saying things out loud made them very real.

Fawn narrowed her eyes, matching Carter’s. “Why would he hate you? You’re like, the nicest person ever.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Carter smirked. I knew it was out of love. At least, I thought so.

We all chuckled but it didn’t ease my concern. Was I not enough? Did he really even like me to begin with? Oh my God, this was all in my head, wasn’t it?

“I don’t want to put myself in a position to be embarrassed, guys. I was probably too forward.” I caught myself rambling, but I couldn’t stop. I wanted someone to hear my innermost thoughts. I didn’t want to be alone with them any longer.

“Should I be more silent? Quiet? Should I take a different approach?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Blu,” Carter leaned in, placing a hand over mine. It was shaking. I was shaking.

“Why are you spiralling right now?”

That felt like a slap. “I’m not.”

“You kind of are, babe,” Fawn took my other hand in hers. “Why do you always expect the worst?”

Before I could respond, Carter chimed in. “You’re projecting, Blu. You’re seeing what you want to see.”

“Why the fuck would I want to be rejected, Carter?”

“I don’t think you want that. I think…” he looked over at Fawn, “I think I agree with her. You had a string of shitty experiences so you don’t expect this to be different.”

“It won’t be.”

“See!” Fawn pinched my wrist. “See.”

My cheeks heated. Maybe I did project. Maybe I did see what I wanted to see. But how could my poor, little brain do that to me? I wanted nothing more than to be loved.

I deserved it. The world owed me.

“What do I do?” I asked. It sounded desperate. I was begging for advice, a way out. “Do I give up?”

“Why are you so invested in this guy, Blu? You’ve known him for a month,” Carter questioned.

A damn good question at that.

I made a mental pros and cons list the day that I met him and again after coffee. Honestly, there were more cons than pros. The desire to win someone over trumped everything. It always did.

Pros: He’s hot, he’s tall, he’s mysterious.

Cons: He’s twenty-one. I’m twenty-three. Definitely some maturity issues. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t give anything, he’s kind of… boring? No, that’s not the right word. Basic? Figure this out later. I don’t know how he feels about me. I don’t know that I ever will. Every girl looks at him when he walks by. I think he pretends to be oblivious. I see that in him. I can’t date someone like that. I don’t even want to.

I recited this list out loud as my friends stared at me with open jaws.

“You don’t even know a single thing about him,” Carter stated, shaking his head. “This isn’t even about him, Blu.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hi, excuse me!” Fawn called over our waiter. He perked up. Fawn was gorgeous; talking to her was a privilege, I’d come to realize.

“Can I get another glass of prosecco please? Oh, and maybe two vodka shots.”

He nodded and tapped his temple, as if he was communicating that he remembered her order. Or, rather, he would remember her.

My face soured. “I don’t even like vodka.”

“It’s not for you, babe.” She looked over at Carter. “If we’re going to listen to this insane story of you liking a boy out of potential, then we need some liquid T.L.C.”

“Out of potential?” But I knew what she meant. I wanted to hear her explain it. Talking had gotten me nowhere, clearly. No one understood me.

She tapped her bright blue acrylics on the white table cloth and cleared her throat. “Since knowing you Blu, I’ve come to realize three major components of your personality.”

“Here we go,” I groaned, even though I’d asked for this.

“One, you’re wild and arrogant and ruthless.”

“I –”

“I have the mic. Don’t interrupt me.” She wiggled a finger at Carter who looked amused. Dazed, almost. Infatuated? He never looked at me that way.

“Two. Where you are bold and impulsive, you’re also the kindest, most generous girl I’ve ever met. You wear your heart on your sleeve. You value love over everything, even in the absence of it.”

Even in the absence of it.

“Three…” She had a hard time meeting my eyes; I knew what was coming.

“You’ve lost a lot. You downplay your pain. You act like it doesn’t exist, that it isn’t a part of you, when it became you.”

The drinks arrived on a silver platter, interrupting the zone Fawn had built around this table. I couldn’t look away from her; she couldn’t look away from me.

Fawn had been my friend for ten years now. She’d seen the relationships, the hookups, the toxicity of what I’d accepted because I didn’t know any different. My home life was non-existent [still is] and everyone resented me. My mind made it worse.

After high school graduation, I convinced Mom to take out ten thousand from the trust Dad left me. He’d told Mom to only release it after I graduated post-secondary, but she cared more about me staying out of her way.

She broke a promise that day. To her husband, to herself, to me.

I asked her to break that promise.

I guess we were two sides of the same coin – tarnished, rusted and bruised.

I guess I was more my mother than I thought I was.

Fawn and I both took a gap year. We travelled for six months across Australia, fucked some boys, kissed some girls, drank disgusting beer that surfers paid for and attempted to scuba-dive. Attempted, being the keyword.

When we got back, we both picked up jobs at convenience stores. Conveniently [see what I did there], they were just five minutes away from each other so we would grab Subway every afternoon on our lunch breaks. We never had the same one, but we pretended we did.

“We need to go back to school,” she’d said to me one day, chomping on a cold-cut-combo.

“I agree.” I was eating the same. I always copied her. She was better than me.

“York?” she suggested. “It’s close enough. It’s no U of T but it’ll suffice.”

It wasn’t a top university, no, but she was right. Anything to help me move forward in life. I was stuck. The same horrible habits never perished. They grew and festered and boiled. Something needed to change.

At the time, I didn’t realize it was myself.

“Earth to Blu,” Carter snapped his fingers in front of my face, drawing me back to reality.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Fawn murmured. “If I did, it wasn’t intentional. I just –”

“You didn’t offend me.” Liar. Everything offended me.

Rejection.

Judgement.

Words.

Actions.

My past.

My present.

Myself.

“So how do I move forward?” I almost forgot that it was Jace we were talking about.

“Let go of any expectations.” Carter pushed the fresh glass of prosecco my way. “Instead of trying to win him over, get to know him. Then in two weeks, give us reasons as to why you actually like him beyond something surface level.”

I grabbed the stem of my drink and downed it in one gulp. Getting to know someone came with an invisible list of requirements. At coffee, I didn’t actually want to get to know him, let’s be honest.

Jace was a contact high.

I wanted to enjoy that feeling for as long as possible. I always did. With everyone.

I didn’t give a flying fuck about his favourite movie, nor the meanings of his tattoos. I wanted him to see that I cared, even if it wasn’t genuine.

Getting to know someone came with vulnerability, and not just on his part, but on mine. Was I ready to do that? Did I even want to?

Carter gripped my fingers. “I guarantee that you don’t like him, Blu. You like what he represents.”

“And what does he represent?’

A tired sigh escaped his mouth. “A challenge.”