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And just like that, he sticks out. He screams rebel. Bad boy. He screams that he doesn’t give a fuck. He didn’t three years ago and he doesn’t now.
“Why did you come back?” I ask again. This time with a desperation that wasn’t there before. He brings his gaze back to mine, and through the cigarette in his mouth, says, “Maybe I missed you.”
“You haven’t changed a bit, have you? I bet you still think you own the world.” He shakes his head, slowly, dangerously. Hypnotically. “I don’t give a fuck about the world. But I do own you.”
Her name’s like her. Loud and dramatic and a fucking handful. Or mouthful. Whatever.
I’m obsessed with him, with the way I hate him, with the way he makes me feel.
Turning his face to the side and staring at my hair, he asks, “So what shade is it? It’s different than what it was back in school.” It is. Three years ago, I had a gentler shade of blue. This one is louder, pops out more. Suits me more, too. “Bad Boy Blue.” His fingers stop sifting and he glances at me. “No shit.” I shake my head. “No.” I changed colors just after he went away. I went to the store and as soon as I saw the label, I bought it. “Fuck me,” he mutters to himself. “Bad boy blue, huh? You’re obsessed with me.”
If he’s a false prince, then I’m his street Cinderella. I don’t need glass slippers or a pretty gown to change our stars. I can do it in my quiet leather boots and my gray uniform.
His eyes, black and threatening and so beautiful, come up to mine. “Do you have any idea how long, how fucking long I’ve wanted to kiss that mouth?”
“I knew the moment I tasted your lips I’d become a fiend for them. And now you’ve fucked up,” he keeps growling, jacking up my heartbeats. “Because you’re mine now, Blue. Mine. And you’ve got no idea what I’m gonna do to you.”
You’re my prize, Blue. You’re my prize for all the fucking suffering.”
“You call your bike Blue?” “Uh-huh.” “But it’s black.” “So?”
Do you know Cleopatra was an Egyptian queen?” I nod. “Yeah. My mom used to tell me that she was the most beautiful woman of her time.” “People are crazy, aren’t they?” I clutch his dark t-shirt at his waist. “Why?” “They don’t know what they’re talking about. One look at you and they would’ve snatched away her crown and laid it down at your feet.”
“But maybe I’m watching you because I can’t stop. Because you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And because your blue hair reminds me of the sky and the ocean. Freedom.”
Him and me. Two lonely people who belong to each other and no one else.
So, I pick up a pencil. The strand of her hair’s still wound around the finger of my right hand as I open a fresh page and write: Cleopatra Marie Paige.
“He owns your heart. He might even hold it in the palm of his hand. He might close that palm and crush it one day. But what he can’t do is force it to not beat for him. He doesn’t have that power. And neither do you, maybe. A heart can be a real pain in the ass. You never know where its loyalties lie. Hearts have their own kings and queens. Sorry. So, if your heart loves him, well then, it loves him. You can’t do anything about it. He definitely can’t do anything about it. You guys are just gonna have to suck it up.”
I’ve always loved you… Her voice causes a pain in my chest. It’s so intense that I come down on my knees. I don’t want her love. I don’t. Then why the fuck does it hurt so much?
You’re in the core of me. You’re in my fucking essence. And no one can take that away from me. Not even death.”
Zach’s kissing me. The world can catch fire and I still wouldn’t mind.
