The Other Side of Blue: A Best Friend's Sister College Romance

by Anna Bloom

  “Mo-o-om, stop calling me that, you’re killing my street cred.”

  Mom laughed, the sound made me buzz inside. “Street cred? Baby boy, it’s just me and you here... who’s listening?” She chucked my chin as her words slotted into a complete jigsaw in my head. We were alone.

  Taking a rare opportunity, I crushed her into my chest, breathing in her scent of baking and lilac.

  She squeezed me back with everything she had. When she leaned back, her eyes, green like mine, glittered a little. Her hand lifted to the faded yellow of a bruise on my chin. “Why don’t you stand up for yourself, Jack? You know you could now, you’re nearly an adult. In some states you already are.” She swallowed hard, cupping her hand around my cheek.

  I reached out for her pale hair. Mom had all the beauty of a field of sunflowers in the height of summer. She radiated golden sun, no matter the dark clouds that chased her.

  “You know I can’t. If I do, I know it won’t be me who pays the price.”

  I didn’t want to remember the day when I had punched back. The next bruises weren’t on my skin.

  The glistening pools shining in her eyes dropped into small and fast tears. “I’m so sorry I brought you into this life. You deserve so much more.”

  An empty hollow etched a black hole in my chest. She wished she didn’t have me. She must have seen it on my face. “No, baby, you know I love you more than anything.”

  I dropped my forehead to hers, wishing I had the power to take us anywhere else other than here.

  I opened my mouth to say it, to say let’s make a plan, but the front door slammed and we both jumped apart.

  “Jack, go to your room.” She pushed me away.

  “No. You just said I’m almost an adult.” I curled my fists, ready to face whatever walked through the door. Maybe today would be the day I stopped it.

  “Jack, please, baby, just go. It’s pay day.”

  My shoulders slumped. All fight evaporating into a long exhalation of disappointment.

  “Go,” she urged.

  Without stopping, I hooked up my ball and ran though into the hallway, ignoring the hulking shape leaning against the wall trying to take his boots off. It only took three wide jumps to get up the stairs and into my room.

  “Sue!” Even just from that one word I knew the money for the month was sat in a cash register behind a bar. “Suuuuuueeee! Where are you, woman?”

  Through my closed door my mother’s faint murmur reached my ears. I held my breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

  Standing by the door, I tensed, ready to fight if needed. Mom was right. I should step up now. Even if he ended me, if I could help her it would be worth it. If I died, he’d have to go to jail, then she’d be safe.

  That was it. That was the plan.

  I’d make him so damn angry he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

  Still holding my ball, I considered bouncing it against the wall. That should do it.

  A heavy tread fell on the stairs. Maybe I was about to get my wish...

  Instead, the sound of their bedroom door being slammed rattled the thin walls of the house, followed by an almost instant squeaking of the bed frame. I sank down to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees and clutching my hands to my ears.

  The bed didn’t stop.

  Squeak after squeak. Bang after bang.

  When a loud grunt filtered through my blocked ears, I leaped up from the floor. At the window I grabbed the glass jar and unscrewed the lid, my fingers struggling in my haste. Another squeak and grunt. Squeak and grunt. Squeak and grunt.

  I lobbed a pebble at Lyra’s window, and she straight away stepped up. Wearing small cotton shorts and a tank she looked ready for bed.

  I lifted my sign: Play for me.

  She lifted her chin in acknowledgement and reached for her violin, no question or hesitance. She played, shutting her eyes, her bow slipping over Vivaldi. In just one week it sounded so much better.

  I sat on the window ledge and rested my chin on my knees, staring at her as she played. I watched the rise and fall of her chest, the slender extension of her arm dancing the bow, her agile fingers pressing the strings.

  Lyra played and drowned out the sound of my hell, and I knew I was in love with the girl in the house next to mine, and I knew that fact alone, not my dad, would destroy me.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lyra

  My lungs screamed, every gasp of air pricking needles where oxygen should have been.

  I could hardly run now. Limping more of a jog, with my pursuers just one step behind.

  Five minutes ago, I realized they were just going to let me exhaust myself. I guessed if I collapsed from the run, I wouldn’t be able to put up a fight when they attacked.

  A solid plan of theirs.

  Yep. Good plan.

  Of course, I could be a long-distance runner, and go for kilometers, but I wasn’t, not even close. Running for the downtown bus at home always proved a stretch of my perseverance.

  I couldn’t go much further.

  Everything hurt in a body cracking, end of the universe way. All I could see were dark streets and darker alleyways, and even those blurred around the edges, like they might not exist if I closed my eyes for longer than a split-second blink.

  I slowed, unable to push any further. A laugh from behind ran across my skin. It told me I’d been a fool. I’d gained nothing from distancing myself further from the club.

  The inevitable had arrived.

  I bent low, gasping at air, my legs shaking; my stomach so tight I could puke.

  “Pretty girl, why you running?”

  I swiped at my hair, stuck to my sweaty cheeks. I didn’t want to face them, couldn’t find it in me.

  Breathing harshly through my mouth, I straightened up, steeling myself, and turned.

  The three men, barely in their early twenties in my limited opinion, didn’t look out of breath at all from our little game of chase.

  Swiftly, I tried to take in my surroundings, looking for anything that could help me. Coming up blank, I fisted my free hand, while my other still held my key. Swapping my balance onto my back leg, I prepared to feint to the side and then punch. Maybe I could damage one before the other two got me?

  The sweep of headlights illuminated our uneven circle. The guy in the middle lifted his arm to shield his eyes and I thrust a kick at the tops of his legs, hoping to God I made contact. I did, but not hard enough. He jumped back and then lunged for me, grabbing at my arm and pulling me tight into his stale smoky breath.

  Frozen with paralysis, I waited for whatever awful event would end me. I’d almost forgotten about the car, until the click of a door opening sounded. The two other men moved, blocking my view, while the man with his hand fisted into my hair dragged me back into the alleyway. Struggling, I caught a flash of steel and I screamed.

  “He’s got a knife.” I didn’t even know who I was shouting at. I couldn’t see a damn thing. My throat strangled so tightly, my words struggled free, barely legible.

  But if someone had stopped to help me, the least I could do was return the favor.

  The knife clattered to the ground as its owner crumpled down after it. Everything span in slow motion, swirling. My feet dragging across the asphalt, I kicked and screamed at being pulled into the alleyway. Desperate and with my eyes burning and my lungs on the point of collapse, I focused on the person who’d stopped to help.

  Blue.

  How was he here?

  I fought harder, scratching out at the man holding me, giving it everything I had. Another loud thump banged as the other guy went down.

  “Don’t make me.” Blue’s voice dripped with venom as he called out to my captor whose two friends rolled on the ground. Blue kicked at the knife, clattering it out into the street.

  The grip around my throat lessened, easing just a fraction, so I could wrench myself free and fall forward.

  Blue’s hands caught me, fitting around my waist like
they hadn’t not been there the last four years.

  Behind me, the slap of sneakers pounding away down the side of the alleyway made me shudder with relief. “Get in the car.” Blue’s voice sliced as cold as the steel of the knife on the ground.

  My legs shook so much I couldn’t move, carved from ice, every fiber in my body screamed a silent cry.

  He tutted and then slid one hand around my back, squeezing his hand into my waist and anchoring me to his side. His black car, engine still running, was only a few paces away, but it looked as far as the other side of the world as he dragged my unwilling legs forward.

  He opened the door, still holding me up, and then pushed me down. My legs still wouldn’t move so he had to help me into the car before shutting the door.

  I closed my eyes, breathing in the leather of the car. It smelled new, a faint hint of mint mixed with the hide of the upholstery.

  Why was I smelling stuff?

  Why couldn’t I move?

  He didn’t say a word, just pushed the gear lever into drive and pulled away. As we headed out into traffic he turned. I could only see him from the corner of my eye, not one part of my body had any function at all.

  “Do your seatbelt, please, Lyra.”

  I didn’t, couldn’t. With a deep sigh, I could only just hear over the pounding of my heart, he pulled the car over alongside the sidewalk. He leaned over and tugged the black seatbelt, unrolling it with a smooth motion, his face disconcertingly close to mine, all hard, angry angles and planes of maturity I didn’t recognize.

  My eyes prickled, sharp stabs of dismay. A tear dropped, rolling a path of devastation down my cheek. The seatbelt clicked into place, but he hesitated, his face alongside mine. He waited, watching the trail of my tear, his gaze widening a fraction. In the dark of the car, only lit by lights on the console, the dirty green luminosity of his irises hid in shadows, but I knew they were hard and unflinching.

  Shifting away, he eased back into his seat and released the handbrake. My heartbeat slowed, and I kept glancing over, waiting for him to talk. His knuckles clenched bone white on the steering wheel, his face so stern that his jaw looked locked.

  I think I might be in shock. My legs trembled.

  “W-w- what were you doing in town?” My tongue, thick and heavy, slurred my words.

  He swept a disparaging gaze over me and answered with a Neanderthal grunt.

  “Bl—” I stopped myself. “Jack?”

  His name zinged with electricity on my lips.

  A sharp stare sliced back across me and I flinched. “What don’t you understand, Lyra?” He mocked my name, making it sound irrelevant, like it was the last possible name he could ever want to say.

  Initially I wanted to know what he was doing in town, how he even knew where I might be or why, but quickly I changed my question. “Why are you acting like you don’t know me? I don’t understand.”

  “Do I?” He raised his brows, his fingers tightening again around the steering wheel. “Know you that is.’ His voice rumbled, so different to the one I’d held onto in my memories. Deeper, more resonant, smoother, every letter considered and articulated.

  I shook my head, unsure if he wanted an answer to his question.

  The purr of the engine rumbled beneath the seat as he pressed the gas.

  In the glow of a passing car’s headlights his expensive watch caught the light.

  “Nice car,” I muttered, but my teeth chattered together. He shot a frown in my direction and then reached behind my seat with one long muscular arm, snagging a leather jacket off the back seat and twitching it over my lap. I breathed a little easier under the instant layer of warmth.

  “You’re in shock.” He turned his frown back to the windshield, glaring at it until the glass could crack.

  “I think I might be.” I nodded and sunk down lower under the jacket.

  He’s here. He found me.

  We sank into silence, heavy and oppressive until he sighed again. Did he know how much he sighed now, like an endless weight of disappointment pushed him down?

  “I was on campus. I saw your roommate. She said she couldn’t find you.” I digested the various elements of what he unwillingly told me.

  “Shit, Eva.” He flicked a disparaging glance at my language. “We didn’t swap numbers.”

  His hands looked close to breaking the wheel in half. Why was he so angry?

  “What happened to you, Jack?”

  His gaze, dark and dangerous, simmered in my direction. “I grew up, Lyra.”

  No need to be a bastard about it.

  I folded my arms across his jacket and stared out of the passenger window.

  I didn’t even realize we were back at college until he pulled through the gates. I truly had no idea where I was. For a long moment I missed the humid air of home, the song of the evening insects, the familiar clatter of our back door.

  Then I remembered Grams, and all her dreams for me.

  Blue cruised around to Hamilton and I glanced up at the fifth floor when he pulled up. “She’s going to hate me for ruining our first night out.”

  He looked up too. “She seemed worried.”

  God, I felt like such a dick.

  “Lyra.” I turned at him calling my name.

  “Yes...”

  “Stay away from Blue’s bar. It’s not safe.”

  I stared at his closed expression, the tight line of his lips, the crinkled frown around his eyes.

  Without a word I turned and opened the door. When stood outside the car, legs shaking, I spun unsteadily and leaned back down. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  He snorted, not with laughter, and I slammed the door shut, running toward the wide steps of Hamilton.

  It was only when I pushed through the heavy glass door I realised I was still clutching his jacket like a blanket.

  Maybe I’d burn it. Would serve himself right. Asshole.

  I trudged up the stairs, trying to think of what the hell I was going to say to Eva, only to find her pacing our floor, her hands wringing together. Totally lame, but the moment I saw her I started to cry.

  “Oh my god, where were you?” Eva grabbed me in an unexpected hug.

  “I got lost. Jesus, Eva.” I winced at taking Jesus’ name in vain, but away from Blue the reality of the evening overwhelmed me. Those men... shit. They could have done anything to me. My first day in a new city and I would have been a crime statistic.

  “Some men chased me. I couldn’t work out how to get back.”

  Eva held me at arms length, her eyes so wide they must have stung. “What? How the hell did you get back?”

  “Jack—” I stopped straight away. “Mr. Cross. He found me. I don’t know how.”

  She locked our room door and I’d never been so grateful to hear the click of a brass latch before. “He spoke to me then he drove off like a bat straight outta hell.”

  I nodded, my brain whirling with too many thoughts. An exhausting wave of tiredness flowed across all my limbs, making them hang heavy.

  I stumbled for my bed, almost landing on it face first. I couldn’t move. Could barely manage to breathe. Needed to shut my eyes. Needed to sleep.

  “Here, where’s your phone?” Eva asked.

  I motioned to my purse that somehow stayed strapped to my body during my endless run. No words came out of my mouth.

  My eyes fused shut, unable to open.

  “There, my number is in.” Her voice buzzed again, just like it did earlier after I first saw Blue.

  Blue.

  That man in the car wasn’t Blue. I didn’t know who the fuck he was.

  It was the last thought I had as I pulled his leather jacket up to my chest and inhaled the faintest hint of mint and smoke. A scent that took me back to a time when I never thought he would be anything else but Blue.

  My head clanged, thudding with the dull ache of tequila in the shower. I leaned my sore legs against the tiles and stood there for a moment trying to find the will to face the day
.

  The only thought I had in my head was startlingly simple; don’t let Grams down. Anything else but that. I couldn’t fail on my second day. The second week wouldn’t be so bad, but definitely not the second day.

  Eva still snored, her forearm resting over her face, so I crept about, trying to remember everything I might need for the morning—I really didn’t want to climb those steps again.

  As I busied myself with normal things: moisturizing my face, pulling a comb through my hair and tying it into a low bun, it was all too easy to forget about the night before.

  All night, terrorizing dreams had pulled me relentlessly from sleep: the faces of the men who’d trailed me, their laughter. My legs had ached, muscles stiff with every unsettled turn I made. But then Blue, or Jack as he now was, he’d been in there, and somehow the shadow of him in my dreams had been far worse than the threat the jacked-up bunch of druggies had posed.

  Dressed and with my backpack slung over my shoulder, I glanced down at Eva. Should I wake her? I wondered what time her first lecture was? But then, I didn’t want to have to relive the embarrassment of the previous evening. So I left her asleep, turning for the door and bending at the last moment to pick up my violin case, letting it hang awkwardly from my grasp as I bashed out of the door.

  Eva’s alarm went off as the door swung shut. I didn’t wait around to make small talk.

  Breakfast sounded awful. My stomach tied itself into tight knots, so I swerved the canteen and headed straight for the Emmerson building.

  At eight, only myself and the birds chirping in the red and orange hued trees seemed to be awake, and I could easily slip into the building without seeing anyone else. Once inside I reached out my schedule and looked for the practice room I’d been allocated. F17. With a groan I read the information board; stairs again.

  I gave a tentative knock when I found F17, glad when no one answered.

  Breathe, Lyra. Just bloody breathe.

  The air steamed like a sauna inside, and a quick touch of the radiator under the window told me why. I managed to open the window about an inch before it was locked by a safety catch. They obviously didn’t want students leaping out in sheer desperation.