Meant for More

by Liza James

  Copyright © 2021 by Liza James

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Editing and Proofreading: Amy Briggs

  Cover Design: Liza James

  Contents

  Trigger Warning

  To William

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Suicide Prevention

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Liza James

  About the Author

  Trigger Warning: This book confronts heavy and very real issues that could be potential triggers. Mental health, suicidal ideations, depression, substance abuse. It also contains explicit depictions of sexual content.

  To William

  Beginning. Middle. End.

  Forever and ever?

  Forever and ever.

  This is what I love. This feeling. It's the cold clay under my fingertips; the way it warms, and the grains smooth under my skin. The ability to take something mundane, seemingly ugly, and transform it into something magnificent.

  Art.

  Passion.

  Love.

  Purity.

  The wheel turns in front of me, my elbows resting on the edge of the base while my fingers work into the beige, shapeless mound. I press my thumb in just a bit harder on the edge, while releasing my other hand to dip into the basin of water I have sitting next to me. I place my fingers in the center of the clay again, pushing, pressing, and kneading it into the shape I want it to take.

  In the span of an instant, the clay begins to pull and twist and evolve into the structure of the planter I'm envisioning in my mind. I want to take it to work with me, and show Bess the ability I have to create something. Ideally, it may help bring in more clientele to our little nursery.

  It's been failing for a while now, and I can see the wear and tear pulling at Bess's features each day as she works. She finds joy in tending to the plants, but when she works in the office, going through the budgets and bills and inventory, that's when I see the real concern.

  I've been working with pottery for quite a while now, falling in love with it at a young age, when my father first showed me his kiln and potter's wheel. But I never expected it to turn into anything more than a hobby. I've created dishes and flatware for my family and friends, and I've worked on artistic pieces for homes and various art shows in high school.

  Now that I'm in college, it's something I've dived into even further. Especially with the state my father is in now, pottery is the only thing keeping me connected to the memories of how things used to be. A reminder Carter and Liv often share with me, because they both knew him before everything changed.

  Before he relapsed.

  I continue forming the piece in my hands, listening to the music blast in the small studio around me. It's consuming, because I can hear the rhythm and listen to the beat pulse through my blood. My foot taps to the same sound, my shoulders swaying and moving with both the clay and the music. But it also feels silent, and maybe it's because this is where I feel most alone, but also most content and in love with myself.

  I haven't experienced a lot in my twenty-one years on this planet, but I've had my fair share of trauma and mistakes. I've witnessed love and the destruction of it. I've seen lives torn apart due to substance abuse, and friendships irrevocably changed because of poor decisions.

  I don't want to be a part of the disaster. I've got Carter and Liv for anything I truly need, and I'm thankful for the two of them most of all. They've seen me at my worst and loved me through it. They've been here at my best and celebrated alongside me.

  But things have started changing if I'm being completely honest. The dynamic between the three of us is shifting into something else, and I'm too afraid to acknowledge it completely because that would mean—

  "Bloom!" I vaguely hear my name being called at a distance. But I ignore it, still lost in the way my fingers are moving through the clay. I love watching the transformation take place in front of me.

  "Bloom!" Another shout, and this time it's close enough to finally pull my attention enough to stop what I’m doing. I slow the wheel and turn back to look over my shoulder. My long, dark hair is pulled up in a ponytail, but strands have slipped free while I work and now stick to my cheeks where I've accidentally wiped clay across my face.

  "In here!" I reply, turning back toward my project as I slowly keep molding. Hurried steps sound out behind me, and soon enough Liv's bright blonde hair bounces into view at my right. I turn toward her, noticing the chic outfit she's already got on.

  My eyebrows raise in suspicion at what she's doing here, I can't seem to remember what plans she had tonight. "What's going on? You have a date?" I ask, as I evaluate my piece and decide it's good enough for the evening. I haven't checked the clock but I think it's getting late, and if Liv is here, then it definitely is.

  "Oh, hell no. Do not tell me you forgot about the party tonight?" Her voice pitches up in a whine and her eyes widen in complete disbelief over me letting this slide.

  Shit. My mind races with countless thoughts as to what tonight means. But nothing comes, and I stand and turn around in order to avoid her wrath.

  "Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare do that!" She shouts, and I hear her movement as her heeled feet race up behind me. Suddenly, her fingers are wrapped tightly around my elbow and she's turning me around to face her. I squeeze my eyes shut because I know exactly what I'll see—complete and utter disappointment. "You can't avoid this. I don't care if you didn't remember the Theta Si party tonight—you're coming anyway."

  Ahhhh, the sorority party for the college football team. We throw it every year and I can't believe I forgot it was tonight. My head has been in a million different places, what with my dad and his rehab—

  "Carter will be pissed if you don't show, you know he will." She reminds me of our best friend, Carter. He's been a part of our trio since middle school, acting as the bigger, older brother to both Liv and I.

  She's right though, he would never let me live it down if I missed this, and truthfully, I don't want to. While we've been best friends forever, there's a part of me that's always been drawn to him. It's his energy, his voice, the way he holds himself amongst everyone else.

  "He has bets on at least four of the freshmen, by the way," Liv adds, her voice dripping with sarcasm and her eyes rolling in annoyance.

  He's also a player.

  Carter's known for welcoming the new girls, in countless different ways. Some would call it exciting, others shout he's the best they've ever had. The self-proclaimed “welcome-wagon” of Burnhardt
University.

  My head swims with irritation at the thought, because something inside of me pulls a little tighter when I think about the girls he's been with. Not because I don't think he should, he can do whatever he likes, be with whoever he wants. Lord knows he's hot enough to have anyone he lays his eyes on.

  It's for reasons I can't really explain, things that don't necessarily make sense. He's like a brother to me, really. A big, handsome, incredibly popular and successful football star—brother.

  I make my way to the sink, carrying my tools and clay in order to clean and set it all aside. I quickly wash up and begin untying my apron before hanging it on the rack by the door. "Of course, I'm coming. I wouldn't be able to trust the two of you in the middle of a party this big."

  She laughs, throwing back her head while her shiny, blonde hair billows around her. It's perfect. Long strands falling almost to her ass. Always silky, always smooth. Clear skin. Blue eyes. Liv is one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, and she works hard to achieve her look. "True. You know Carter and I will always run the party."

  "Yeah, run it into the fucking ground if I let you." I glance down at my own hands, still covered in bits of clay I couldn't wash off. My life is similar to this—constantly changing and seemingly messy. I like it this way though, different, unique, always evolving. When things settle too much around me, something is always there to wreck it in a new way—so I may as well embrace it.

  I absently lift my hands and run my fingers through the ends of my ponytail, pulling them toward my face as my eyes quickly look them over. My heart sinks for a split second when I instinctually compare myself to Liv. It's not that I don't think I'm pretty, I do. Dark eyes, dark hair, clear skin. But I'm the messy one, the loud one, the person who stands out more than fits in. Liv is the ideal girl at Burnhardt, the one every guy walks by and takes a second glance at.

  I pull notice, but in different ways. They notice my black chucks and ripped up jeans, my flowy shirts which tend to hide my shape and the countless colors of glaze or clay permanently staining every article of clothing I own.

  I like it this way though.

  I actually prefer to be the wingman rather than the one receiving all of the attention. I can slip out easily and unnoticed. I can disappear when the party gets too wild, or if I'm overwhelmed by the crowd I'm surrounded by. No one notices, no one wonders where Bloom has disappeared to, except Carter and Liv. But the two of them know how I am now.

  I love to party, I love to hang out, but only in short bursts of time. Then I need a recharge, time to think and reflect and dive into the parts of myself craving more.

  Does everyone feel this way? I'm always wondering. Whether or not everyone else has a need to feel more than what they already do. And in the same sense, if they're feeling far too much?

  One second I think there's more to life than this. The next second I'm hiding away in my room because I'm feeling too much. The energy is too heavy, the people around me are a chaotic blend of different moods and desires.

  It's as if I can feel all of it, and none of what makes me the person I am.

  "Come on, do you have everything? Let's back to the house so you can get ready." Liv reaches for my hand and pulls me toward the front of the room. I hastily grab my things—my bag, my phone, a coat—and quickly turn off the lights before locking the door to the studio.

  We step outside and into the chilly night air and I glance down at my phone in order to see what time it is. Nine p.m. Definitely late, but the party won't officially start until ten or so.

  "Tell me what you plan on wearing? You know, Benj will be there tonight." She wiggles her eyebrows in clear suggestion as we make our way to the parking lot where we've both left our vehicles. She drives a little Subaru WRX, sleek and black with pink accents.

  I know what she's hinting at, the fact that maybe I could be interested in Benj as more than a friend. But I'm not sure, he's a tight end for the football team, and Carter's best guy friend at Burnhardt.

  I also have a feeling she has ulterior motives in hooking me up with him. Carter and Liv have been spending a little more time together outside of the three of us, and it stings just a bit to think our dynamic might be changing. But I know this is life, and it makes sense the two of them might hook up. They're both attractive, both popular in their own identities, Carter for being the quarterback of the Titans, and Liv for being Theta Si's Vice President.

  They're both bright and outgoing, taking life by the reins and creating whatever reality is perfect for them. They're influential, and two lights being drawn together isn't any sort of surprise to me.

  I have a little darkness in my background, a few shadows I won't ever be able to shake because of my family. I've learned to accept them, and have resolved to being on my own for the time being.

  So, when I think about Benj, my head goes a little fuzzy. He's attractive, incredibly so. Tall and built like exactly what he is—a tight end. Wide shoulders and broad chest. Massive biceps leading down to his tattooed forearms. His hair is long and dark, usually knotted on top of his head and he dons a bit of scruff along his jawline.

  It's hot. He's hot, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about what he feels like if we'd kiss.

  But I also shake those thoughts away just as quickly, and return to focusing on my work at the nursery or the studio, or my father.

  "I'm not sure, probably this? Maybe I'll throw on a different top." I motion to the outfit I'm already wearing, light wash denim jeans with various distressed holes over my knees. My top is a big, off the shoulder cream sweater, but it's marked with clay after my work today. The sleeves are also stained after falling toward my wrists while I worked.

  Liv narrows her eyes at me in disbelief, flattening her lips into a line before stepping toward her driver’s side door and pulling it open. "Don't be fucking ridiculous. I'll help you pick something out when we get home."

  Oh God, no.

  "This is going to be a hell no from me. I'll tell you that for free, Liv!" I shout right as she slams the door with a smile wide on her face. I can see she's laughing, because she knows I hate when she picks out my outfits for me.

  It's always something a little too short or too tight, heels I can barely walk in, and make up distorting my face into someone unrecognizable.

  But she also knows because she said that, I'll be thinking about what I can wear the entire drive back to the sorority house.

  Shit, she knows me too well.

  "Dude, you fucking sucked today," I slap my best friend, Benj, on the back as we all walk into the locker room after practice today. He's my tight end, and a damn good one. But today was rough, and I'm not sure what's eating at him. His entire body language was off, missing passes here, instincts skewed, where they're usually on point. Me, Benj, and Lucas—our wide receiver—are always on the same page. We all have an unmatched amount of trust in each other more than with anyone else. And Benj? He never lets anything distract him on the field.

  He shoots me a look, his honey-colored eyes stabbing daggers at me through his gaze. I laugh, because I know he’s already aware of how he played, but I'm also the team captain and it's my job to make sure everyone is in accord. Aside from my professional role, he's my best friend, and I want to know what's going on inside of his head.

  "Seriously? Honestly, I thought it was my best practice to date," he sarcastically replies as we both start undressing and get ready to hit the showers.

  "Definitely. Coach has you slotted for early draft after this practice," I say, ripping off my sweat soaked shirt and stuffing it into the duffle bag resting at my feet.

  "Yeah, man, what's going on?" Lucas joins us, stepping up beside Benj while opening his locker.

  "It's fucking stupid, so both of you guys leave me the hell alone. I promise I'll have it together tomorrow." He intentionally turns away from us and heads toward the showers, throwing his towel across his bare shoulders as he walks.

  "I'd know that look anywhe
re," Blake, one of our linebackers yells over the edge of his shower wall. "It's a girl, asswipes."

  "Shut the hell up," Benj yells, slamming his hand against the wall as he walks. He isn't actually angry, I can tell. But he's annoyed, and the surprise of this having to do anything with a girl works through my head.

  I rush up behind him, throwing my arm around his shoulders while we walk toward the other side of the locker room. "You're kidding me, this has to do with a girl?" I ask, my eyes widen when he deliberately looks the other way.

  "Dude, who? I've never seen you worked up over a chick." I drop my arm as we both walk up to separate stalls and place my soaps on the tile floor.

  "It's no one, seriously. My head is just at the party tonight already."

  "The party tonight. So, she's going to be at the party. You know, if you tell me who, I could ask Bloom or Liv about her. They'd probably be able to hook you two up if they're in Theta Si." I can't believe he hasn't told me about her yet. He knows I have the hook up in that house with both my girls. The three of us have been inseparable best friends since middle school. I grew up with them, and they'd absolutely have mine and Benj's back in this.

  But for some strange reason, Benj turns away from me in that moment and steps into his stall, consciously ignoring my offer. What the hell?

  So, I do what I probably shouldn't do, because clearly, he doesn't want to talk about this. But we have to, I am the captain, after all and I want to make sure his head is in the game. I step into his stall and lean back against the slick tile wall, crossing my arms over my chest as he steps under the spray of water.