A Hue of Blu

Year Four/Week Thirteen – Present

Fawn had texted me saying she and Bryce were enjoying their time alone, and that I should as well.

I responded with the devil emoji and shut my phone off for the night. After all, the only person I wanted to speak to was standing in the confines of these four bedroom walls.

The sleeping situation may have bothered me earlier; everything had. After Fawn and I unpacked, we hit the nearest town to get our hair and nails done. As it turned out, the salon also had a makeup studio attached to it, so we took the leisure of beautifying every part of ourselves.

“Jace is going to combust when he sees you,” she’d said to me, perched like a baby bird in the stylists’ rolling chair.

That was the goal. Tara’s text pissed me off, and we had a plan to grind his gears. It just so happened that the universe rewarded me because while Fawn and I browsed the gift shop, a handsome stranger [Derek] approached with wondering eyes.

We invited him to the bar, told him to bring a friend because we, too, were meeting our own. I made a promise that I’d spend time with them, but I’d broken so many before that one insignificant one meant very little to me.

I knew Jace would see me speaking with him. But what I wasn’t prepared for was the sheer jealousy he’d depicted.

He cared about me.

His annoyance solidified that.

The thought of Tara hitting up Jace’s line dissipated. Especially after that kiss – the kiss of dreams, that I’d seen only in my sleep, experienced only in my head.

The light was dim in the room as I stared at Jace undoing the cuffs from his dress shirt.

“I’ll take the floor,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

The hands that had just been in mine moments ago.

Disappointment drowned me. “You want to sleep on the floor?”

Even through the lack of light, I could see his bluish eyes twinkle. “The bed is my second choice Blu, but your comfort is my first.”

I…

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out.

The flashbacks of Kyle came through, touching me against my will when he’d had too much to drink, Zac pounding his fist near my face when he got upset. Tyler, my oh-so-lousy hookup Tyler, who critiqued my appearance and fucked me in the dark.

None of those men, those boys, were Jace.

Where my confidence came from, I had no idea. I’d been a lying, deceitful girl for far too long, basking in arrogance and masks to prevent vulnerability.

I swallowed hard, staring at Jace with intent as I pushed my dress strap off my shoulder, followed by the other until it was a pool of fabric around my feet.

Never in my life had I felt comfortable standing naked in front of someone, not my boyfriends of years or hookups of months. But the way Jace looked at me, nude and bare and willing, I would’ve bottled his gaze and kept it forever.

He didn’t move, not for a few seconds which sent my brain into a spiralling whirlpool.

Had I gone too far?

Could he see my stretch marks?

Is he not turned on?

Oh my fucking God, what a fool. I’m a fucking fool.

My cheeks heated as I took a step back, covering my breasts with an arm but then he said one word – one word that halted my movements immediately.

“Don’t.”

The clap of his footsteps creaked atop the flooring as he made his way over, my eyes still glued to the ground, my chest covered by my arm.

I spied the points of his oxfords slide beneath my silver dress as he cupped my chin, demanding attention.

His gaze made my spine shiver and my insides dance. Carefully, he peeled back my arm and massaged my wrist, leaving me exposed for him to see.

Though his eyes didn’t drop down once as he flipped over my forearms, holding them out for me to inspect.

“What do these mean?” he asked, choosing his words carefully.

He knew. He knew there were scars beneath the black ink. That’s why he questioned. He knew.

“Tell me.” His voice was kind, trusting. I would have spilled twenty-three years’ worth of secrets to him right then and there.

“My dad died when I was thirteen,” I began, feeling the tears burn with no emotion attached.

It was me who I mourned for. My sadness.

“He was an alcoholic and my mom… Um, she’s one too. I don’t talk to her much,” my throat suddenly felt sore, but I powered through.

It felt good telling someone who knew nothing. Like a release. A release from my permanent pain.

“I used to…” Fuck. “I used to think there was no cure for losing a parent, one you thought you knew. I wanted to feel something, so I –”

He kissed my cheek, right where a tear had fallen, pulling me closer. “You don’t need to say it.”

Only then did I realize how shattered I’d become, when salty liquid hit my lips and I whispered, “They’re underneath my tattoos. The memories of wanting to feel something other than sorrow.”

My mouth was taken by his, and in one swift movement, I was sitting on his lap as he settled on the soft duvet.

My body trembled. My mind ached. My flesh, the skin I wore, was covered in markings that represented me.

A broken shell.

A damaged past.

Unlovable, reckless, Beatrice Louise Henderson.

My anxiety, my panic and pain, they became one and taunted me with shame. The sobs never stopped, the storm-cloud of emotions never settled, and I remained, a lifeless corpse in the arms of Jace Boland.

Minutes passed, maybe hours. I felt lighter, freer; maybe I’d lost weight while crying. One could only hope.

But Jace’s features were rock solid. He hadn’t let go of his grip, his eyes stalking my every flinch, my every breath, my every exhale.

As reality set in, I grew painfully aware of the fact I was naked aside from my underwear, cocooned in his grasp while he said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured into his shoulder. “I’m sorry I unloaded that on you. I’m so sorry.”

“Blu…” I could feel tension, the hesitation, as he yanked the throw from the edge of the bed and wrapped it around my body.

“Sleep,” he released, carefully lying me down on my back and tucking me between warm sheets. “I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

What…

What –

What!

“Jace, Jace… No, no – I, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –” My breaths were ragged, bleeding like an open wound. “Jace, please don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving you, Blu,” he kissed my forehead, but it felt forced. “I just think you need space.”

“Space?” My bones hurt, my brain screamed. “I just opened up to you and you think I need space? Right now? In my fucking state?”

He moved towards the door just as Fawn broke in. “What’s happening? Blu?” She moved towards me in an instant as Bryce filled the doorway.

Her soft palms caressed my face, forcing my head to meet her. “Blu, sleep in my room tonight.”

Space.

Space.

Space.

That’s all anyone ever gave me.

That’s all anyone knew how to give.

An excuse to leave, an excuse to run.

No one stayed.

No one cared.

Any ounce of love within me died, but it was justified. How could anyone love a fractured soul? A sad girl who couldn’t control the carnage of emotions that lived within her?

“Jace, let’s go.” Bryce’s words were distant. I didn’t dare look away from Fawn’s kind eyes. They were the only thing keeping me afloat.

I heard two sets of footsteps exit the room and the door locked.

It was then that I collapsed into Fawn’s arms.

It was then that I allowed her to soothe my aching heart.

It was then that I realized the comfort I thought I’d felt with Jace was an illusion; a trick of my mind attaching itself to the potential of someone, rather than who they were.

Carter was right.

Fawn was right.

I knew nothing about Jace Boland, other than the truth I knew about everyone else.

They’d always leave.