A Hue of Blu

Year Four/Week Eight– Present

“Should I tell him I was joking?” I asked Fawn, forking a piece of chicken in my Pad-Thai.

“No,” she swallowed some noodles. “He’s probably at that party right now. Never text a guy when they’re at a party unless they text you first.”

He wasn’t mine and yet I claimed him in my head. The thought of him being out with a bevy of girls sent nails down my esophagus. But again, he wasn’t mine.

“I should’ve just went. He literally invited me.”

At this, Fawn set aside her take-out box. “First of all, if you went, I would’ve been very pissed. And your chocolates and flowers would not have cut it.”

I laughed.

“Blu, it’s good that you denied him for once. He’s probably thinking you’d just come at his beck and call no matter what.”

He was definitely thinking that. But still, I couldn’t shake the butterflies that came with his invitation.

Jace wanted me there.

He wanted to be around me.

“If I wasn’t here, I’d be there. You know that.”

“I know,” she stared at me hard for a few seconds. Every time she did this, I knew she was contemplating something. It freaked me out.

“What?”

Her hand was in mine, squeezing gently. “You’re worth so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

Fire burned the back of my eyes but I refused to cry. Ever since the beginning of our friendship, I felt like Fawn saw right through me. All the little cracks, the rocky exterior, the crumbled foundation of my life – she knew.

She loved all the pieces of myself that I hid from the world.

She loved me when I didn’t think it was possible.

She never made me question if I was worthy of it, because to her, loving me came as easy as breathing.

“I love you, Fawn.” I wasn’t much of a sap, but after three glasses of wine and a food coma, sweetness oozed out of me.

She tapped my knee and pressed her lips into a smile. “Love yourself more.”

And just like that, she hit play and resumed The Conjuring, leaving me in the corner seat of her couch with a wonder in my brain.

Love yourself more.

Was that made to be an insult? I did love myself, didn’t I? I showered, I made my bed, I cut my nails and did my hair. My skin was always washed, my clothes neat and pressed. If I didn’t love myself, those chores wouldn’t get done.

And yet, all my material possessions felt like scraps of paper.

Love yourself more.

As if I didn’t think about all the things I could change about myself – to improve my appearance, my health, my facial texture. That was love. I was trying to fix broken pieces. I loved myself.

Love yourself more.

I walked away from Kyle, didn’t I? Maybe he stayed a lot longer than he should have, but eventually I left [when I had no choice]. I left.

I left.

I loved myself.

I loved my –

I loved…

I hated myself.

***

My phone rang at 2:14am.

Luckily, I wasn’t next to Fawn because my ringer had been on full blast.

My eyes adjusted to the dark surroundings of her living room, the purple fuzzy blanket draped over me on the couch.

Every time I stayed over, she knew to set aside a space for me alone. Sleeping next to people was never something I enjoyed, even if that someone was my best friend.

I reached over to grab my phone from the coffee table, checking the caller ID: Jace Boland.

Immediately, I sat up, answering. “Jace?”

He was panting when he said, “I just got clocked in the face. Where are you?”

My eyes flew open. “Someone punched you? Are you okay?”

“Shut the fuck up I’m talking!” At first I thought he was addressing me, but quickly realized there was someone else with him. “Blu, where are you? Can I come see you?”

Before I could answer, he repeated my name again. “Blu? You still there?”

He was drunk. He was so drunk.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m…” Fuck, Fawn’s not going to like this. “I’m at my friend’s place. I can send you the address.”

“Send me the address, I’m on my way.”

I hung up and texted it over immediately, devising the best course of action to tell Fawn what I’d just done.

2:27pm – Jace Boland: Be there in 10.

Well, I couldn’t prolong it anymore. I tiptoed into Fawn’s room and found her cuddling with a body pillow, her eyes sewed shut. She was one hundred percent out cold.

Even when I exited the room and the door shut a little louder than expected, I could hear soft snoring penetrating through the wall.

I decided to shoot her a text anyway and let her know that Jace got hurt and needed a fix up. Fawn understood things better than anyone. She’d do the same if she were in my position.

But a part of me still felt so shit for inviting him over to someone’s home, a home that wasn’t mine.

I didn’t have time to dwell on it though because Jace had just texted saying he was pulling up.

2:35pm – Blu: Just text me when you’re at the door. Floor 8 room 803. Don’t knock!

My palms were sweaty. Why were my palms sweaty? This felt intimate, wrong. It was like two kids playing together after hours, hiding in the shadows so their parents couldn’t see. I’d done stupid things like this before, but never in my best friend’s home.

And yet, a part of me was racing with excitement at the thought of seeing Jace. Why had he called me? Why had he even invited me tonight? Did he like me? Could he?

My phone vibrated in my hand and without even checking, I slowly opened the front door to meet him.

“Holy fuck,” I said, barely a whisper.

His light brown hair was disheveled over his forehead, a huge gash cut his forearm, still bleeding, and his right eye was already bruising.

“Blu I –”

“Shh,” I placed a finger over my lips, pulling him inside. “Fawn’s sleeping.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.” Luckily, the bathroom was a few steps away from the entrance and the furthest away from Fawn’s bedroom.

Jace gripped the doorhandle for support as he followed me into the small space, plopping down on the edge of the bathtub.

I shut the door and locked it, leaning against the counter to analyze his injuries in the light.

“What the hell happened?”

He laughed.

He fucking laughed.

And what’s worse?

It was the most attractive thing I’d ever seen.

There was something about a guy who was scraped up post-fight that made a girl squirm. Call me crazy, but if you asked anyone, they’d agree. I knew it wasn’t the time to be thinking such outlandish thoughts, but fuck. He was too damn beautiful.

“My friend was talking to some guys’ ex and he didn’t like that very much,” Jace began, shaking his head with amusement like his lip wasn’t sliced open. “Tried to jump my buddy and I stepped in. Next thing I know, my ass ends up in a thorn bush.”

He held up his arm to show me the bleeding gash down his skin, staining the red and blue lining of his Spiderman costume.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” he slurred.

My arms were wrapped around my middle, covering the small space of skin between my pyjama waistband and tank top.

I felt more naked now than ever.

“Let me wrap up your arm,” I offered, bending down underneath the sink. Anything to ignore the conversation of what they meant, when I got them, why I got them.

I found Fawn’s medical kit and rummaged through the contents. Jace’s stare was burning through me, I could feel it in my bones. His eyes were scanning my body, scoping out flaws, scouting out insecurities. God, why the fuck did I have to wear boxer shorts on the night I saw him? He could see everything. He could judge everything.

“Heal me,” he said, tilting his head to the side. A slight grin formed at the corner of his lips as I walked towards him, taking hold of his arm.

“Is your friend okay?” I asked, bandaging his wrist first.

“Why are you asking about him? I’m the one who got fucked up.”

I laughed because it was the stupidest thing he could’ve said. “How much did you drink tonight?”

“Enough that this didn’t hurt.”

“Maybe you really are Spiderman.”

“Maybe you can be my Mary Jane.”

I stopped for a second, realizing how close we’d gotten. Those long legs were extended on either side of me, placing my body in the middle of them. Heat radiated off his core, or maybe it was me. Maybe I was too aware of the proximity that I felt sparks.

“Heal me,” he repeated under his breath, his fingers finding the back of my calf.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This wasn’t in my head. This was happening.

I pretended not to notice, bandaging up his forearm. Blood soaked into the gauze, turning the white netting into pink.

“I think Spiderman is more than capable of healing himself,” I teased.

His bluish-green eyes flicked down my face as he said, “Sometimes it’s nice to be taken care of.”

A frog lodged itself in my throat. “Yeah, I’m uh…” His skin was warm. It wasn’t just me. “I’m doing the best I can.”

His hand slid further up the back of my leg, trailing behind my knee, resting on my thigh. “Come closer and do a little more.”

My breathing hitched as he gently pulled me down, my knees kissing the cold tile floor. I was eye-level with him now, his stare bleeding into mine with inscrutability.

“You’re drunk, Jace,” I breathed out, fighting the urge to lean forward. I did the opposite. I’d been on this side of the coin one too many times.

“Where were you tonight?” He searched for something in my eyes, like always, then drooped his gaze downwards. “Where’s the vampire fang dildo cake?”

I chuckled.

He smiled.

Now his hand found the small of my back, but he didn’t move me forward or push me away. It just rested there. It was meant to be there.

“I didn’t do anything for Halloween.”

“No?”

“No,” I pressed my lips together. “I was kidding.”

“Don’t make a habit of lying to me now, darling.”

God, every time he said that, I melted. This was bad. This was really fucking bad. He knew what he was doing, he knew it got under my skin. And yet, I let it. Every single time, I let it.

Jace stabs me.

I twist the knife.

Who’s to blame?

“Why did you call me?”

This time, he leaned back, removing his hand from my skin. I craved it. I felt empty without it. I wanted his touch again.

He didn’t look at me when he said, “I don’t know.”

You’re joking. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, I just…” Now he stood up and I felt like my heart was halved in two. “Just drunk and wanted to see you, I guess.”

I guess.

I fucking guess.

My face was hot. “Because I give you attention?”

“What?”

This was my past repeating itself, wasn’t it? I saw all the signs and I chose to ignore it. I was convenient.

I was fucking convenient.

“You feel bad for me.”

“Blu, Blu – No, what? Where is this coming from?”

I couldn’t help it. The tears fell. I moved away. “Why the fuck did you come here tonight? Answer honestly.”

He couldn’t say anything. He didn’t have a response. He came because he wasn’t thinking clearly and he knew I’d pick up. He knew I’d bend whatever rule I was following for him. Fawn was right. At his beck and call.

At his fucking beck and call.

Two loud knocks made me jump. Fawn was awake. Shit.

I quickly unlocked the door and found her tired eyes staring back at me, then quickly averted to Jace. “Why are you in my bathroom? What’s going on?”

“He was just leaving,” I spat, dragging Fawn out of the doorway so Jace could get out.

His long stride made it to the front entrance before he turned to Fawn and apologized, then threw me a glance.

“What?” I snapped. It was sharp, I knew it was. But anger seethed through me. Rejection. Pain. I didn’t know where it was coming from. All I knew was that it lingered.

He let out a clipped scoff, shaking his head. He turned the doorknob and before leaving, said, “Stop assuming that you know how I feel. You’re hurting yourself at this point.”

Then he was gone.

I cried on the floor for fifteen minutes, letting out ridiculous sobs to Fawn. The worst part was, I couldn’t even explain why I was crying. I didn’t know.

All I was sure of was that the person to blame, the one who twisted the knife and kept it lodged in my heart… that wasn’t Jace.

That was me.