by H. J. Bellus
BLUE
HJ Bellus
BLUE
Copyright © 2015 by HJ Bellus.
Formatting: JRA Stevens
Cover Designer: Sommer Stein Creative Pear Design
Photographer: Perrywinkle Photography
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of HJ Bellus.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication:
To all the warriors who fight to make their own dreams their reality.
Love,
HJB
“Everyone has demons…it just depends on whether you invite them in as your enemy or friend as to how your story unfolds. Make it the best one.” –HJ Bellus
Prologue
“Blue, you have mail.”
My entire body freezes at the high pitched sound of my mom’s voice, and I’m not sure if it’s sheer panic or excitement. I’ve been waiting on my acceptance letter from Preston University for what seems like years, but in all actuality it’s only been two weeks and three days.
“You might want to move your ass, Blue.”
This time I know beyond a doubt it’s the letter. Try-outs were a month ago, and I put everything I had on the line. I didn’t let the other girls prevent me from focusing on the task ahead of me. Going from Boulder, Colorado to L.A. was quite the eye opener, but years of training to be the best athlete I can be came in handy and I relied on my mental strength training.
My door flies open, distracting me from staring at my MacBook and Facebook wall. My mom stands in the entrance holding one white envelope with a huge smile plastered across her face. This dream and next step in my life is as much hers as it is mine. Damn, the woman has been by my side, from baby beauty pageants to running for Miss Teen Colorado.
“I can’t, Mom.” Snapping the lid of my MacBook closed, I wrap my arms around my knees.
“Blue.” She strums the edges of the envelope.
“No, Mom, I just can’t. What if…?”
“What if you made it and you’re about to start the next chapter in your life?”
“Mom, stop! Your Pollyanna Positive attitude is not working right now.”
“I’m opening it.”
“No.” I lurch forward on my bed and snatch the envelope from her hands. “I want Dad here.”
“He’s in surgery today.” She glances down at the gold watch on her wrist. “He might be able to FaceTime. Let me go check.”
Mom practically skips from the room, and I smile at her pep-you-up attitude. Then I begin praying my dad is elbow deep in an operation.
“Say hi to Dad.” My mom bounds back in, barely making contact with the floor before landing on the bed next to me.
“Hi, Dad,” I manage with a defeated voice to his face on the iPhone.
“Hey, cupcake, why the gloom face?”
“Dad, I just…”
“Stop, not another word, cupcake. You’re always your own worst critic. Open the damn letter. I have lives to save here and no time to worry about some overly dramatic and very whiny cheerleader.”
I crack a small grin at my dad’s sarcastic words. I know he’s my biggest support system, but the man is never serious about cheerleading. It’s well known he wants his Blue to become a surgeon just like him. But everyone else in the Williams family gave up hope on that years ago.
“Dad,” I squeal. “Not funny and not the right time.”
To my surprise, I’ve opened the envelope while my dad has been distracting me. I don’t hesitate, pulling the single piece of paper from the envelope.
“I can’t do it.” I toss it in my mom’s direction, burying my head into her knees.
The paper rustles, and I know my mother is unfolding the letter. I hear each movement, but can’t force myself to look up.
“Miss Blue Williams, it’s with great pleasure we are contacting you today.”
The rest of her words are blurred together in one jumbled mass of freaking words. The part of my brain that registers speech goes out of order until I hear the word “accepted.”
My gaze shoots up to study my mom’s face, and when I see tears rolling down her cheeks I know I’ve done it. I’ve made the cheer team at Preston. It’s one of those moments in life when everything stands still while all the hard work and effort toward a certain goal replays in your mind. All those extracurricular school activities missed for another gym session, the sleepovers with friends not attended because I was away at a dance competition.
“I did it.” Each word comes out individually rather than a flowing sentence. “I fucking did it.”
I hear my dad in the background scold me for my language like he always does, but this time I don’t pay any attention to him.
“I did it.” Each time I repeat the words they get a little louder. “I did it.”
I leap to my feet, jumping up and down on the bed, squealing like a stuck pig and shouting all kinds of explicit words from bitch to ho and fucking A, I did it. I catch my dad’s proud smile out of the corner of my eye, and yes, he’s shaking his head at me.
“Mom.” I throw my arms around her and embrace her in a full throttle hug, Blue style. She drops Dad and the letter, and I squeeze harder. This moment is only truly happening because of all my mother’s persistence and belief in me. Being the only child, I always felt that invisible pressure to be the best I could and to impress my parents. They always held high expectations, but never crossed the line of being lunatics.
Yes, lunatics. You know the ones. They put their baby in pageants at three months old, drive across the country for cheer camps, and buy a ten thousand dollar evening gown for Miss Teen Colorado…those kinds of parents. Yes, my parents provided me with all those opportunities, but I was the driving force behind it, pushing myself harder and faster.
“I love you, Blue Williams.”
Okay, they were a bit crazy naming me Blue, but in my mother’s defense, it made me stick out from the crowd.
Pulling away from my mom’s hug, I deepen my smile. “Thank you for everything. You too, Dad.” I wave down to him. The iPhone happened to land by our feet, so my dad is staring up at our crotches. Awkward…actually, it brings awkward to a whole new level. Using my toes, I slide him closer to my mom’s side, giving him a nice view of her.
“Blue, if I have to drive out to California and pick up your knocked-up, freshman ass, I’ll sell you as a slave on the black market in Mexico.”
I get my looks from my mom and my humor from my dad. Never serious, that man, even in a situation like this, but from his proud smile and that twinkle in his eye I know he’s proud as hell.
“Deal, Dad. I love you.”
“I love you too, Blue.”
Mom uses her big toe to disconnect the call, and we fall down on the mattress in a fit of laughter.
“Thank heaven you didn’t make me twig.”
“Mom, it’s twerking, and you need to work on those skills while I’m gone.”
“Blue.” Her hands tighten on my thigh, and then her head drops to my shoulder. “I’m going to be so lost without you.”
“We’ll talk every day, and you said you’d visit once a month.”
“I know, but you’re my baby girl, Blue.”
“Read the letter to me.”
I listen to my mom finish reading the letter with a shaky voice.
Chapter 1
Thirty Days Later
/> I run my finger along the hem of the black and white damask bedding covering the single size mattress in my dorm room. My mom and I managed to decorate everything on my side while Dad set up my desk and chair, bitching the whole time.
“Honey, stop, I can hire someone to do that, or I can even do it. I don’t want you hurting your hands.”
“I’m a surgeon, not a pussy.”
Yes, those are the lines I heard over and over as my parents settled me into my room. They drove me out a week before camp and stayed several days with me. It was the hardest goodbye this morning, and I nearly took off running and screaming, begging them to take me back home with them.
When my mom broke down crying during her goodbye, I had to turn away from her. Dad slapped her on the ass and then cracked some joke before he wrapped us up in one large family hug. The man pisses me off for never being serious, but in moments like those it’s just what we need from him.
I have no idea when my roommate may or may not be marching through the door. We’ve texted a couple times. Her name is Sophia, but she gave me strict orders to call her Sophie. We were lucky enough to be roomed together since we’re both freshman cheerleaders at Preston.
My dad was relentless in his efforts to have me rush and join a sorority to experience college life, but I know full well there’s no way I’d have time to keep my grades up with cheer practice and then sorority life mixed into all of that, so I settled for the dorms. And to say I was nervous about my roommate would be the understatement of the century.
My stomach growls, the sound deafening in the silence of the room. I make my way over to the mini-fridge my parents bought and stocked. Nothing looks good, or even halfway satisfying. Greek yogurt…um, no. String cheese…um, double nope. Lean turkey lunch meat…um, that’d be a hell to the fucking no. I’m more in the mood for a double bacon cheeseburger spackled in grease with an extra-large order of fries.
The bonus to dorm life is all the fast food joints are conveniently placed around the outskirts of the area. Grabbing my turquoise cross-body purse from the hook, I slide it on over my head and hook it on my neck. I check the perfectly placed mirror by the door to see how out of control my hair is. Thank you, Mom. The bright blonde pile is still a hot mess. My hair is the one thing that sets me apart from other girls. It’s long, thick, and a bright golden blonde…and all natural, at that.
I’ve threatened to chop it off a time or two, but every single time those words came out of my mouth my mother nearly stroked out. On my sixteenth birthday, my dad made me promise to never threaten my poor mom again, and to sweeten the pot he threw in a bright red Rover. Nothing like a brand new spanking-ass car to keep a girl’s mouth shut, and yep, since that day the thought of cutting my hair has never crossed my mind.
I leave behind my car keys and choose to hoof it, knowing it will waste an ample amount of time, and I could do a little sightseeing the old fashioned way. Throwing on my aviators, I step out into the hall and notice there’s bit more commotion than there has been. The football team must have arrived, hence all the hot-stacked men loitering in the hall.
For the love of all things steam and sex, these men are tanned and gorgeous. Absentmindedly, I use my hand to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor and saliva from pooling out. Thank you, aviators, for hiding my stares. These men are nothing compared to the boys back at my high school. They’re freaking giants with looks and…um…and very well-defined bodies.
I avoid the elevator because I don’t trust myself and really don’t want to get caught ogling on my first trip out of my dorm room. My roommate can’t get here fast enough, I chant in my head while jogging down the stairs.
I can only hope she’s the loud, obnoxious type I can hide behind. In high school, I was the leader and the forerunner, and quite frankly, I just want to fit in here. Cheer, good grades, and cheer are the only things I’m concerning myself with. The social part, well, I want to follow, be in the background, and enjoy life from the back seat. I’m sick of being the driver and navigator.
Pushing open the door to the outside, I soak up the sunrays.
“Miss Blue.”
I turn to see the security guard at the u-shaped cherry wood check-in desk.
“Yes,” I say, smiling brightly back at him.
“Have a nice afternoon.”
“Um, thank you.” I stand frozen in the middle of the lobby.
“Sorry, my name is Steve.” He rounds the desk and makes his way to me. “Your father introduced himself to me earlier.”
“Oh, go figure.” I relax bit.
“Have a nice afternoon, and if you ever need anything, just ask.” He runs his hands through this thick, greasy black hair, and I can’t help but stare at the grime under his nails. Nice enough, but surely a shower wouldn’t kill the guy.
“Thanks.” I wave as I walk off.
I giggle and move further outside. I damn well know my dad either paid him off or scared the piss out of him with his pussy surgeon hands. Guess I can’t blame the guy, since I’m the only daughter and he just dropped me off to live states away. My dad will be the first to admit he’s not the biggest fan of me being a cheerleader, and trust me, he has a plethora of corny blonde cheerleading jokes to throw around, but at the end of the day he’s in a tie for being my biggest supporter.
The sun in Colorado was always welcoming and highlighted my tan perfectly, but there’s something about the California sun I can’t seem to get enough of. It has a unique touch of warmth that I find addicting. I feel the tingle on the top of my shoulders as I stroll down the wide campus sidewalk, and just like on the inside of the dorms, there are more people loitering around outside.
I can guess most of them are student athletes since we tend to show up earlier than most to attend training camps and such. A second group of football players passes by me, and again I find myself scanning them from head to toe, mentally undressing them. Which isn’t a hard task since they’re only clothed in loose fitting gym shorts and shirtless, with sweat trickling down their tanned six packs.
Focus, Blue, focus, for fuck’s sake. It’s just a short stroll until I’m off campus and walking down a long chain of businesses ranging from strip malls with all sorts of retail stores to fast food. One small, red brick building has a line spilling out of it, so I choose that one. I mean, no one stands in line for shit, right? Well, let’s hope not.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I check it for messages, and find several texts from my parents and one from Sophie.
Sophie: I’ll be there in about an hour. Be prepared to meet the most amazing person of your entire freaking life! Well, let’s hope you do, because if you don’t that means I’ve driven off a cliff, hence my annoying-ass mother and grandma Vitty driving me.
I chuckle at her text because I can hear her rambling on and on. The few times we chatted on the phone, the girl ran her mouth until my ears nearly bled, but her enthusiasm is contagious, I’ll give her that.
Quickly, I slide open my mom’s text and instantly bust out laughing. They sent random ridiculous pictures of them at different stops. I honestly have no idea how I turned out so normal as I study the picture of my dad riding a pink flamingo statue in front of a gas station.
“What’s so funny?”
One of those hot, delicious football players is studying me, boring a hole into my chest with his dreamy blue eyes. My jaw does that drop thing, leaving my mouth hanging wide open while my hands remain planted on my cellphone. Oh shit. Oh shit, I wonder if he’ll notice if I simply turn around and sprint like a motherfucker.
“Ethan, don’t scare the piss out of the poor girl.” Another dreamboat steps up, placing his hand on Ethan’s shoulder.
Automatically, my gaze flashes down, triple checking my crotch for piss dribbling down my legs. Phew, nothing…dry as dry.
“So, what was so funny?” He cocks his eyebrow at me and sends me a panty-melting smirk.
Guarantee, my panties are wet now.
“Oh, I’m,
uh…” I hold up my phone and send the two men a quick smile. “I was just reading some texts and came across a ridiculous picture of my dad on a pink flamingo.”
Holy shit, Blue, that didn’t sound awkward at all.
“Nice.” He nods, approving of my answer.
“Ethan, you’re taken, and Stephie would slit your throat if she found you flirting.” The second man steps in front of Ethan, and damn if he isn’t even fucking dreamier than Ethan. “Hi, my name is Lane.”
He reaches out and offers a handshake.
“Oh, hi, I’m Blue.” I wave like an idiot asshole from Mars, avoiding flesh contact. I have no faith in my body and know it’s damn well possible I might melt in his touch.
He waves back with a goofy grin, more than likely mirroring mine. “You go to Preston?”
“Well, no, not yet. I mean yes. I’m a freshman and just settled into the dorms.”
“So, are you a braniac and show up to school two months early, or…?” The man’s sex appeal oozes off every single word. He’s more than dreamy.
Good hell, why can’t he just turn around and mind his own sexy damn business instead of assaulting me? His eyes and looks make me want to dry hump his leg.
“Um, duh, I play ball.” Joke, yes, it’s time to stop this guy’s tactics with good ol’ fashioned humor. “Recruited as a freshman and starting this year.”
“Oh.” He pauses a moment, scratching his head. “Sorry, I didn’t pick up on that.”
“Gotcha,” I shout and point my finger at him. “I’m on the cheer team and here for training camp.”
I decide to go with over-exaggerated humor to hide the fact I’m hot for him. A smile covers his face, and then he does the typical shit most people do when you tell them you’re a cheerleader. I follow his gaze as it roams up and down my body, from the tips of my toes peeking from my sandals to the top of my messy bun. I couldn’t help but notice when he let his eyes linger a little longer on my breasts.
