Year Four/Week One – Present
I leaned back into the velvet cushion booth at Cuisine Mercanti.
“Have you decided on food?” the waitress asked. She was pretty. Carter was probably eating her up.
“I’ll have the Sauvignon Blanc,” I said, handing over the food menu. “Just drinks for now,” my eyes roamed over her nametag, “Ellie.”
I’ve come to learn that people enjoyed when you said their name. It was like an extra step at valuing a person’s person. It made them feel seen. I did a great job of that.
“The six or eight oz?” she asked, her face a little brighter.
“The bottle,” Carter answered for me, throwing a flirty wink.
She didn’t reciprocate. Maybe it was because she had a boyfriend. Maybe it was because she was into me.
It was probably the latter.
She carried our menus and walked away before Carter could get upset.
“Don’t be mad,” I started, sipping on water. “She’s probably taken.”
He rolled his eyes. “No one likes me.”
“I like you.”
“You don’t count.”
“I’m the only one that matters,” I chuckled, looking around the room. My eyes caught on two men in very expensive suits sitting at the bar. The hotter one was looking at me. The other was sporting clear inebriation.
“Carter, be subtle. See those two guys at the bar?” I queried. He nodded. “Which one is better looking?”
“The one on the left.”
That was the drunk fuck. “Wrong answer.”
He shrugged, rolling up his napkin. “It’s just the truth.”
I crossed my arms. “The one on the right is way better.”
“You’re only saying that because he’s checking you out.”
“Don’t be stupid. You’re better than stupidity,” I replied, though I studied the two men a little longer.
The man fighting inebriation was more cut, his suit a little darker, a little cleaner. His midnight hair curled around his ears in a sexy, messy way. He was loud, his lips were plump. Yeah, he was good looking.
The one who stared at me, well, he wasn’t horrible on the eyes either. Chopped hair, a bit of a beer belly. I unconsciously felt my stomach, adjusting the waistband of my skirt to smooth out any edges.
“Maybe you’re right,” I was ashamed to admit. “But he’s not ugly.”
“He’s not.” Carter glanced over at a group of girls sitting near the two men. “What about them? Do you think I’ll have any luck?”
“Maybe. If you grow some chest hair and actually approach someone in person. Tinder’s gotten you nowhere.”
He flicked his flaccid straw condom at me. I dodged it.
“I’m not like you, Blu. I don’t just approach random people.”
I let out an exaggerated laugh, mainly to get the suit-mans’ attention again. It worked.
“Carter, you’re twenty-five. Don’t be embarrassing.”
“You’re so sharp sometimes,” he let out, a spark of anger in his eyes.
It would pass. No one could stay mad at me.
The waitress, Ellie, brought the wine to our table and set out two glasses. She showed me the bottle, standard practice, poured a little and it danced around my tongue.
“Great legs,” I joked.
“She wasn’t talking about the wine,” Carter added. This time, the line landed and she blushed a little.
Ellie placed the bottle in the ice bucket and walked away, leaving me to congratulate Carter on his first success of the night.
“Very bold,” I smiled.
“I learned from the best.” We tapped glasses and he spoke again. “How was your last, first day of university ever?”
The thought sent a rush of adrenaline through me. Just eight more months. Eight more months and I would be free. I would take whatever inheritance my late father left me and shoot for the stars. By the stars, I meant Paris.
Since I was a little girl, I’d always wanted to go. There were stupid stereotypes that surrounded the place – “Oh, Paris isn’t that great. Paris is just a tourist location. Paris is this and that and this and that,” but fuck the stereotypes.
Paris was a dream, that’s what it was. The atmosphere, the Eiffel Tower, the environment… It was all new. It was mine to explore. I was determined to explore it.
Mom could no longer withhold the inheritance when I graduated university. It was written in his will when he left me. When alcoholism sucked away all the best parts of himself.
I sipped away the thoughts and redirected them to Jace. Jace.
Jace, Jace, Jace.
“I have a crush on someone in my class.”
Carter looked up behind his glass. “You mean the class you just went to an hour ago?”
I nodded. Was I speaking gibberish?
“Can I ask how you managed to conjure up feelings so quickly, or do I even want to know?”
“I don’t get feelings for people. It’s just a crush.” Feelings were for the breakable. I was strong.
“And what are you going to do about said crush?”
I sat up straighter. “I’m going to make him love me.”
Carter threw me a sarcastic smile. “And then what?”
“I haven’t thought that far.”
But I did think about him. The entire subway ride to Mercanti I thought about him. He wasn’t my usual type. He was an enigma. I could feel the challenge brewing – it excited me. In a world so mundane and grey, I was the sun that brought it to life. At least in my own damn universe.
“Shall we cheers to new beginnings?” I said, holding out my wine glass.
He agreed with me. They always agreed with me.
“Cheers to you, Blu Henderson. The girl who always gets what she wants.”
How I wish that were true.
How I wish someone would notice.
I chugged down the rest of my glass and waved at suit man staring at me, then my chest.
A sense of adoration, desire and a pang of resentment ran through my core. I shoved away the latter and focused on the fact I was his object of desire. That’s all that mattered.
In a world short of love, I had to be wanted.
I was wanted.
I felt wanted.
Never loved, no.
But I was wanted.
