Year Four/Week Ten – Present
Blu walked to the class door with some guy.
Blu said goodbye to this guy.
Blu smiled at this guy.
Who the fuck was this guy?
She stepped inside and scanned the room, trying to hide the fact that she was looking for me. I’m not an idiot, Blu, I wanted to say. I’m right here.
She wore a grey scarf and a black coat, her tan knee-high boots contrasting the evident disdain she was sporting today. In my head, I commanded her to sit beside me. Words needed to be said.
After Bryce told me that the girl he’d been talking to was in fact Blu’s best friend Fawn, everything clicked. It made sense, just never registered before. She’d mentioned the name Fawn, but I hadn’t been listening. My attention had always been on Blu.
“What did you guys talk about?” I’d asked. “Did you mention me?”
He said they made pleasant conversation, cordial would be the right word. After he brought up the fact we were friends, he sensed that Blu didn’t want to discuss anything that had to do with us – or whatever the fuck “us” entailed.
So he dropped it. Classic Bryce. I would’ve pressed. I would’ve wanted to know what Blu was thinking. But then again, he didn’t feel the way I did. No one felt the way I did.
I watched Blu drop into a front row seat, placing her belongings on the chair next to her. Nah, that wouldn’t do.
“Blu,” I called. Fuck my pride. “Come here.”
It was loud enough that a few people turned their heads, but friendly enough that they wouldn’t pay any mind to the situation.
Her big brown eyes turned to me, hesitating, but respecting my wishes. She gathered her bag and coat, plopping down next to me.
“Hi,” she said, flatly. “What is it?”
I cleared my throat, sitting erect. “We haven’t talked. I want to talk.”
“About what?”
“Not here.”
“Then why am I sitting with you?”
My eyes narrowed. “I don’t know, Blu. Why are you sitting next to me?”
“You asked,” she countered. “I can get up right now.”
I opened an arm, nudging my head to the worst possible desk she could’ve chosen upon entry. “Feel free, darling.”
As soon as she stood, I realized she wasn’t playing. My hand flew out in front of her, wrapping around her wrist gently.
She stared at me, lowering her posture back into the chair.
“I like you better beside me,” I stated, surprising myself.
And not a truer statement was spoken.
“You confuse me,” she said, shaking her head.
Valid. “I confuse myself.”
“I never know how you’re feeling.”
“I don’t even know myself half the time. Don’t read into it, it’ll piss you off.”
“You already do.” She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her face.
“Good,” I smirked, leaning back into the chair just as Professor Granger walked in.
For the rest of class, my concentration flitted between the PowerPoint slides and Blu’s side profile. To say I didn’t appreciate it before was an understatement.
The closer you got to someone, the more you saw. Layers of skin peeled back to reveal something enthralling, something fascinating. I never quite looked at Blu as anything more than she presented, but often times, the faces people wore were not their own, just what they wanted you to see.
She had a rounded nose, not quite button, but not far off. Her cheekbones were high, like sugarplums in that stupid Christmas song people sang. She was pretty pale, and I envisioned her with a tan and I don’t think it would’ve worked. Her blue hair was too much of an angelic contrast, like sun rays to a storm.
Maybe I was a painting, but she could be a museum.
“What are you staring at?” she piped, drawing me out of my head.
“The PowerPoint.”
“We took break two minutes ago.”
Oh. “I was looking at you.”
Her cheeks reddened. I liked that I made her nervous.
“Picturing me as a blonde?” she jested, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
I smiled. She’d look horrible as a blonde. “Not even close.”
“Then why were you staring at me?”
No part of me knew how to explain the fact that when I was interested in someone, I could stare at them for hours. I couldn’t tell Blu this, though. My feelings were too confusing, too all over the place. Accepting my emotions was one thing, but sharing them was another.
My mom always told me that relationships should never be complicated, that bickering and arguments were a part of the picture but never the whole product.
Blu and me, we were never steady. She made me confident, she brought me comfort, but she messed with my head. Just when I thought things were going well, they weren’t. When I thought we were making progress, we took two steps back. And the sad truth was, I still felt like I knew nothing about her.
Nothing, but everything all at once.
“You’re doing it again,” she released. “You’re staring.”
I was. But this time, for a different reason. This time I wasn’t admiring her beauty. This time, I was figuring out ways to spare her heart.
