Year Four/Week Three – Present
After coffee last week, I gave Blu my number. Rather, she placed her phone in my hands with the contact list ready for my name.
Class started in an hour and my commute to campus was half of that. Luckily, Will was passing through York to attend a meeting so he gave me a lift.
“How’s school?” he asked me, sipping an americano. He drank five of those a day.
That question alone made my heart palpitate. He cared enough. That was plenty.
“Good.”
“Speak up about it, Jace. How are classes?”
No, he cared a little more than enough. I smiled. “Classes are fine. I met a girl.”
This piqued his interest. “What’s her name? What’s she like? ‘Bout time baby bro.”
And just like that, the thrill paused itself.
Baby bro.
Kid.
Kid. Kid. Kid.
Would they ever see me as an equal?
I wasn’t that far off in age. Baxter was twenty-six, Will was twenty-seven and Scott was twenty-nine.
Not. Far. Off.
“Yeah she’s cool. Bit bold, though. Her name’s Blu.”
He adjusted his position and drove with his knee, folding the cufflink around his wrist. “Blu? Like the colour?”
“Like the colour.” She popped into my head and I smiled. “She’s got blue hair, too.”
“Huh. Interesting. She one of those art freaks?”
“What makes them freaks?”
He scoffed. “Aren’t they all? I mean, you have to be some level of weird to paint the shit that they paint.”
I felt myself getting offended. “Baxter was an art major. He’s a photographer.”
“Baxter’s a Boland. There’s a difference.”
If there was one thing I hated about Will, it was his entitlement. If someone didn’t work in finance or business or whatever the hell he studied, they were automatically beneath him. He judged me the most out of all my brothers, even if it was silent commentary.
“What’s the difference?” I genuinely wanted to know.
“He doesn’t have coloured hair like your Blu.”
My Blu.
Why did he say it like that? Why did I like it?
I felt a tad protective. “It suits her.”
He laughed condescendingly, taking a right turn into the campus parking lot. “I bet it does,” he unlocked the car door, “Maybe you’ll meet Red next, or Orange. Try all the colours of the rainbow by the end of fourth year, yeah?”
I slammed it shut and walked away, hearing the stupid exhaust pipe he installed fade into the distance.
Why the hell did it have to be this way? Was I always going to be picked on forever? By own family at that?
I felt turned off. I felt it creeping in. Every step that I took towards the classroom was a step I wanted to take back. Maybe I should’ve occupied my thoughts with someone named Kendra or Emily. Maybe I should text Riley –
No. Don’t ever fucking text Riley again.
Class started in fifteen minutes, meaning I was early. I was always early. There always seemed to be one or two consistent faces present, but I didn’t know their names. I didn’t care enough. They were nobodies.
I was a nobody once.
Never again.
Fifteen minutes alone with my thoughts was a long time. Blu always walked in late, so I had minutes to reflect. She’d asked me if I wanted to get to know her. She’d asked me a lot of things that day.
It was odd. Most of the things we talked about were superficial; Blu struck me as anything but. I felt her holding back. I felt something. I didn’t ask. She was the one who wanted to go to coffee with me.
Maybe Blu liked me.
Nah.
Yes. Yes. Was that so hard to believe?
Did I like her? No. I didn’t know her. Could I like her? I mean, she wasn’t my usual type.
Riley had blonde hair.
Blu had blue hair. Dark blue, almost black.
Riley had green eyes.
Blu had brown eyes.
Riley had a petite build.
Blu was curvy.
I couldn’t like her. She wasn’t my type. Will would never approve.
She walked in five minutes after I halted any growing feelings. Her smile was crooked. She waved at me.
“Hey Jace.” Her phone was clutched in her hand and that’s when I thought about it.
She never texted me.
Why hadn’t she texted me?
You don’t fucking like her, why do you care?
“Hi,” I responded, shifting my body away. It was forced. I forced myself to.
Slowly, she lowered her handbag and eyed me with trepidation. It radiated off of her. I didn’t want her to notice that it was bleeding off me as well.
“Everything okay?” she asked. Her voice was smaller, almost docile.
I nodded in response. That’s all I ever did. If I would’ve opened my mouth, what would I have said?
“I’m questioning my feelings for you.” I don’t have them.
“I sort of like you.” But I don’t know you.
“My brother won’t approve of you.” But do I care about what he thinks?
Yes. I cared about what everyone thought.
She settled beside me and didn’t speak, opening her laptop. I did the same, scrolling through journal articles on one tab and Twitter on another.
I glanced over at her laptop and saw that she was looking at plane tickets. The background was Paris, I think, but she exited out right before I could confirm the destination.
“I’m sorry I didn’t text you,” she said, her eyes sincerely apologetic.
And that’s when I knew I was a dick. A liar.
That’s when I recognized how fucked up I was, because I responded with, “I didn’t notice.”
For fuck’s sakes, Jace.
I noticed everything.
Blu didn’t talk to me for the rest of class.
