by Liza James
"Yeah, exactly." Liv throws open the door and dips her head inside my room. "You're fifteen minutes late to Color Theory."
I launch up in my bed and throw my covers off of my legs, glancing quickly to my phone when I see it's already nine-thirty a.m. Class started at nine-fifteen.
"Shit, shit shit shit!" I jump out of bed and look back to Liv.
"Have a good day, Baby Bloom!" She waves and shuts the door behind her, no doubt hurrying off to her own classes and meetings for the sorority chapter today. She always stays busy and usually never has to wake me up from my alarm.
Yet, here we are. And now I'm late to my fucking class. I'm never late.
I throw on a pair of skinny black jeans and an oversized teal sweater which is covered in stains from the studio. It's one of my working tops, but it's the only clean thing I can find this quickly, so I toss it over my head and tie up my hair in a high ponytail.
I grab my lace-up black Vans and slip them on my feet while reaching for my phone and Carter's keys.
Five minutes. That's all it'll take me to drive to class. But then I remember I was supposed to take the Jeep back to Carter by six a.m. this morning for his own practice.
Dammit, I really fucked up this morning.
I hurry out the front door, grabbing a banana on the way and stuffing it into my bag. Searching through my phone while I quickly walk toward the Jeep, I realize I have a slew of missed calls and text messages.
Carter: Yo, where's my Jeep?
Liv: Wake up, wake up! Your alarm won't shut up.
Carter: Dude. I need my Jeep. Benj hates me this morning.
Carter: You're seriously going to make me ride with him, aren't you?
Carter: All right. Payback is a bitch. Remember that, flower girl.
Well, shit. I'll have to call him after class. I look down one more time and see my last remaining unread text message.
Benj: Morning, little Bloom. You down for lunch today?
Benj: Too bad. I'm picking you up after your class.
My heart thumps in my chest a few times, nerves and intrigue run along my skin in jolts of electricity. But I push it away because my head needs to remain focused on class and then getting the Jeep back to Carter. I have a shift tonight at the nursery, and I need to run by the studio to grab my planter for Bess.
Shit, I've got a busy day. I don't know if I can even squeeze lunch with Benj in.
I immediately climb up inside the lifted Jeep and race off to class, sending Carter and Benj quick text messages through the audio feature on my phone. Campus is only a few minutes away, so I'm already pulling in and parking in front of the main hall for Color Theory.
Our campus is big, but each section is dedicated to certain classes and interests. This is the art sector, which is a relatively smaller portion of the University so it takes no time at all to race inside and find a seat.
In the back, to the left. My go-to space in every class I have. I like being alone, and having open seats on either side of me in order to space out my notes and materials.
A few students glance my way when I arrive, but immediately turn back to our professor and focus in on the topic at hand. Perception and Communication of Colors.
I pull out the various texts for this class and my notebook, opening them up and placing them in front of me. I'm already knee deep in notes on what I've missed so far when the door quietly clicks shut to our hall and someone hurries in to take a seat beside me.
Immediately, agitation pricks at my chest when I realize I'm not alone over here, but when I look to my right, I'm even more surprised to find Carter making himself perfectly comfortable in the seat next to mine.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I whisper, trying to keep my voice low and unobtrusive for the surrounding students.
"Whatever do you mean? I'm in this class, Baby Bloom." He scoffs with mock surprise pulling at his wide eyes. He even leans over and pulls the textbook from his bag, waving it in front of me to prove his point.
My eyebrows pinch in confusion, because there's no way Carter would willingly choose this class for himself. And on a Saturday? No way. It is the start of a new quarter, so technically he’s only missed the first two classes—but still.
"Liar," I grind out, flashes of the night before cascade through my mind and I find myself feeling slightly awkward in this moment as well. "You would never take an art class, let alone a Saturday class. So, tell me, who made you and why?"
He sighs and looks away momentarily, but turns toward me again in order to explain. "Coach. My GPA isn't at standard for the team, so I needed something I could definitely pass." His eyebrows arch, and all of a sudden, everything makes sense.
I laugh, and quickly throw my hand over my mouth when a couple of students shush me from their scattered seats. "Oh god," I say and lean toward him so I can speak even quieter. I'm mere inches away from his face, my chest brushing against his when he refuses to lean away. A small and confident smile pulls at his lips, as if he's happy to put me in this exact position. "You need me, huh? To help you through this class."
"I always need you," he whispers in reply, but the words feel differently off his lips than they usually do. Visions of the moments against his Jeep last night bombard me, and I want to pull away but...I can't. "To whip my ass in shape when I'm failing. I heard I was a dick last night." His eyes soften and he looks back and forth between my own.
It hits me, the fact that he can't actually remember exactly what went down. For some reason, a sharp pain stabs in my chest and my stomach twists in something remarkably close to embarrassment. I find the strength to pull away and settle back into my own seat. My lips pull into a tight line and instead, he leans toward me this time. His fingers slip up to my ponytail and he tugs, forcing me to bring my attention back to him.
"We should talk about this later," I say, forcing my eyes to stay focused ahead of me.
"I'm sorry, Bloom. For whatever I did, whatever I said. I didn't mean it, okay?" His words are genuine. Carter's kind, most of the time. Especially to myself and Liv. He would never intentionally hurt either of us.
But it's not the pain of last night that's occupying my mind.
"I know," I whisper, turning back toward him and meeting his blue eyes with my darker ones. They're clear and bright today, azure pools filled with emotion he only lets myself see. I would say Liv as well, but I don't know how their relationship is outside of the three of us.
I'd like to say these are moments he only gives to me.
But I'm not unrealistic enough to believe that, especially with how him and Liv have been interacting lately.
"You and Benj," he continues, his voice deepening into something a bit gentler. "I don't hate the idea of the two of you." He looks down briefly and my heart simultaneously pounds and surprisingly falls at the same time. "It's only that I think you could do better than him."
"That's the only reason?" I ask, watching him intently for any minuscule reaction in his features. I don't even know why I'm entertaining whatever feelings I'm having right now. I don't like Carter, I like Benj.
I do. I know I do.
His eyebrows pull together and he opens his mouth for a second, but closes it again as if he's unsure how to respond.
"Let me figure out if Benj is worth my time or not, okay? It's not your place to determine his value, Carter. No matter how long we've been friends." Harsh irritation sends a shiver skating up my spine and I turn my eyes back to the professor. I feel Carter look away from me, but the energy between us turns even hotter.
This is what always draws me in. We have this connection, this difference in the space lingering between us and around us. It feels deeper, and also scarier, because the dynamic we already hold is so solid. It's sure. It's strong enough to withstand anger and arguments and disagreements.
Whatever this is? It isn't as steady. It moves and shakes with the simple blow of the wind. It has a foundation, sure. But even that is easily destroyed in the wake of emotiona
l storms.
Suddenly, his fingers are gripping my jaw and forcing me to look at him. His eyes have shifted impossibly darker, his brows angled down and his lips pulled tightly across his face. His jaw is ticking, and I can feel the sparks of uncertainty threatening to explode between us.
What the hell is going on?
I suck in a breath at his touch and he pulls me even closer while he addresses this. "Don't do that. Roll over and detach yourself in the middle of our discussion. I don't care what class we're in, who we're around—you know I hate that shit."
I nod my head reluctantly, because I do know. Nothing agitates him more than someone prematurely ending a conversation in the middle of it, and I can't deny that he was opening up and trying to explain his side.
"You're right. I need to let you make that decision." He releases his hold on me and leans back, softening his expression while he watches me.
Part of me is relieved he's over whatever happened last night, but another part of me is drowning in disappointment. This little experience, these thoughts of what-if and possibility, I need to disregard them now, once and for all.
Benj and myself, Carter and Liv. That's how life is going to work out.
I know it.
Carter and I are walking out of Color Theory together when I pass him the keys to his Jeep. He looks down at them, running his thumb along the metal before looking back up to me. I don’t know why, but I intentionally look away. My chest is racing with a heaviness I’m uncomfortable in.
I move to take a step away from him, but his fingers swiftly wrap around my elbow and yank me around the corner of the building as we step outside the doors. His chest is pressed roughly against my own, my back resting against the cement wall behind me. My eyes dart up and meet his, confused by his sudden outburst.
“Carter, what are you doing?” I whisper with a frustrated voice. His gaze is dark and yet somehow, I can feel the hesitancy in his energy. As if he’s just as confused as I am.
“Something is different,” he starts, and his eyes drop to my lips for a split second before jumping back up to mine. “I can’t remember exactly what happened. But something did…right?” His hold tightens over my arms, just barely, and his thumb grazes back and forth over my skin.
My heart pounds and I slow my breaths while my blood electrifies under my skin. How is this even happening right now? What the hell is this?
“No, Carter.” I scoff. “Of course not. You were drunk, I took you home, you passed out.” If he can’t remember, then it’s okay. It’s honestly for the best.
No matter how strangely it feels inside of me.
His eyes narrow and I can sense he doesn’t believe me. I’m not a great liar, but I know this will never be anything more than a friendship between us.
My phone rings and I quickly pull it out of my pocket to see Benj's name dancing across my screen. I absently glance to Carter, who looks to my phone and very intentionally doesn't remark on it.
Lifting it to my ear, Carter steps back and gives me my space. "Benj," I say with a strained smile as I turn and start walking toward the street. Carter hurries up beside me. I force every ounce of awkward tension back and refocus my head where it needs to be—on Benj.
"Bloom, you ready for lunch?" Just as he speaks, his lifted Ford pick-up pulls up to the curb. It's a four door, black and matte with a grill on the front which adds to the intimidation. He's a lover though, not a fighter, so I quietly giggle at the beefy rig he drives daily.
Carter walks me to the side of his truck and opens the passenger door for me, offering his hand when I try to pull myself inside in one movement. But Benj reaches across the seat when I struggle and grips my forearm, pulling me up the rest of the way while Carter steps back.
He shuts the door for me and Benj rolls down the window. He leans forward and looks Carter in the face while lifting his waving hand. "I'll have her home before eight, dad." He laughs, and while I know it's a joke, Carter doesn't seem to find it funny.
Instead, he looks to me, stepping up to the window before speaking. "Call me if you need anything. Benj is allergic to strawberries. In case you need to kill him." At that, his face breaks out into a small smile and Benj flips him off in the driver’s seat. I rest my fingers against his over the windowsill and pat his cheek gently with the palm of my other hand.
"Thank you for that absolutely integral piece of information." I reply and pull back, buckling myself in when Carter steps away. He slides his hands into his pockets and for some strange reason, I feel like he looks lost. His eyes are vacant, his lids have slipped a little lower than usual. He smiles, but it's a tight lipped one rather than an authentic display.
Benj pulls away while Carter remains on the sidewalk. I don't know what's happening inside of my chest right now but everything feels tight. It's as if I'm missing something in this moment, like I'm making the wrong choice when there wasn't ever a choice to make.
It isn't Benj or Carter. Carter or Benj. It's just Benj, and then it's just Carter. So, why am I struggling in contemplation between the both of them?
Benj's hand lands on my thigh as he gently squeezes, and it effectively pulls my attention completely to him. I look down at his fingers, watching the way they span my entire leg and wrap over the edges.
God, he's got great hands.
He pulls back though, and disappointment flickers in my chest at the loss of his touch. I look back to him, and he smiles before turning his eyes back to the road. "I figured we'd go somewhere quick since you have work tonight."
I narrow my eyes, wondering how he would have known my schedule before I had the chance to share it.
"Oh, shit. Sorry, Liv told me last night. She said you worked today. I may have mentioned the idea of taking you to lunch," he glances back and forth between myself and the road, gauging my reaction to him discussing my schedule with my best friend.
"I wouldn't expect her to keep my personal schedule private," I laugh, knowing her intentions in this were nothing but friendly. She may cross the line sometimes, but she's a fucking matchmaker at heart.
"I'm sorry, I should have asked you."
"Not a big deal. I promise, and I'm glad we're going out today."
We drive the rest of the way in easy small talk, discussing our mornings, the party the night before—how the tequila kid probably feels like shit this morning.
Benj is easy to talk to. He doesn't hold expectations and he doesn't judge you for feeling differently about anything.
He simply is. And it's a beautiful thing to be around when your life has been full of what-if's and judgement surrounding your dad.
I glance down at my phone again, absently wondering about the call my father made to me last night. He's in and out of rehab constantly, but I don't know if he's actually in or out right now.
The last time we spoke, he was screaming on the other end of the line. His drunken spill of toxic words hurt me far more than I'd like to admit.
"You don't fucking get it. You don't know me."
"You don't know what it's like, living every moment of every day in hopeless regret."
"Fucking bitch. You're a fucking cunt, you know that?"
"I was being suffocated by you and your mother. I'm far happier without the two of you."
"Worthless. Absolutely worthless."
I shake off the dark memories, but images of when he would stumble home drunk hours after his shift ended flash through my head on repeat. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force them out of my mind while Benj vaguely speaks beside me. I can't even hear what he's saying at this point.
Broken glass. Broken mugs. Shattered plates and even a destroyed fishbowl. Dead fish.
Scared dog. Scared kids. Hiding under trees and in closets when things became too loud for me to tolerate.
But then things continued spiraling, and I started leaving when it got bad. That's when Carter used to find me. He'd show up at my house, but when he heard the chaos happening inside, he knew I wasn't home. He'
d walk up and down our street, through the backs of the house and near the old hay field at the opposite end of our neighborhood until he found me.
You'd think I'd be lying in the grass, or sitting in a tree, or even hiding in hay bales in a place like that. But no, those weren’t my instinctual draws to the place.
I hid under trucks. On my back, head and torso under the belly of a pick-up while I looked up and counted all of the different parts of the undercarriage. Carter taught me the names, a million times. But I'd be lying if I said I remembered all of them now.
Then it sort of became our spot. After a few times, he realized I always automatically went there when things were tough.
We never told Liv about it.
"Bloom?" Benj's hand rests against my thigh again, and before I know what I'm doing, I weave my fingers through his. He's warm, and his skin is rough with hard work and determination. I look up at his face and while I find so much drawing me in, there's another tether inside of me pulling back as well.
"I'm sorry, I was lost in thought." I say, and his thumb begins brushing along the lengths of my hand. Shit, it feels good. Being connected to someone in this way.
"No problem, you want to eat at the Big O?" He asks, and it’s the actual best relief in a moment like this. I pause, watching him silently for just a moment as my mind falls to the pits of a surprisingly naughty gutter. My eyebrows raise and I absently bite my lower lip. The Big O. Seriously? Is that a joke?
I can't help it, a laugh spills from my mouth and I quickly try to stifle it with my hand. "What the hell kind of a place is The Big O, Benj?"
"What? You've never been there?" He asks, shock pulling at his dark eyes and soft lips.
I lean forward, uncontrollably laughing at how ridiculous this is. At least it pulled my mind from darker thoughts. "No, never. I haven't even heard of it and I don't know how."
"All right, all right. It's one giant mess of comfort food. Chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, jambalaya. It's the actual best place to eat in town." He explains turning his eyes back to the road.