Page 7 of Petals of Blue, Part One (Wilted Duet #1)
Two
BLUE
Ifeel fucking awful. Like death warmed up, and my neck is one wrong move away from pinching.
"Your poor hair! Why does it look like that?!" Dakota, my third wonderful friend and hair stylist, is staring at my messy, sweat-slicked braids like they're dying puppies.
Janine snorts into her coffee. Her black hair is in a cute low ponytail with a goddamn bow. Bitch looks like she didn't fucking close down the club with me last night.
Bethany frowns and nudges Dakota. "That's like telling another girl she looks awful."
"Thanks, Beth," I say dryly and take a big pull from my water bottle. "I went to class this morning and guess who didn't show up? You three!"
"Why the hell would I want to sweat my ass off on a bike at seven in the morning after closing last night?" Janine has a point, but I'm still pissy about it. At least our cycling instructor is amazing and kept me hyped up.
Although all that hype sputtered out as soon as I climbed off the death machine. It's been half an hour and I'm still regretting this morning's workout.
"Why in the world did you go to cycling class if you closed last night?" Dakota, with her perfect long dirty blonde waves, looks shocked and disgusted by my choices.
Groaning, I push my pastry aside and rub my eyes. "Dave has had me on closing shift every single night for the past month."
"Ever since you turned him down," Janine adds, like I need the fucking reminder that our bar manager is a sleazy asshole. "He's throwing a tantrum. It will pass."
Easy for her to say, but I keep my annoyance targeted toward the one who deserves it. "He's a prick. Anyway, if I didn't go to class after closing nights, I'd never go. Then what would happen?"
"You'd lose that fine ass you've worked so hard for," Dakota answers, sounding sad for me.
"Exactly." It sounds super shallow, but I'm confident with my body. It's the one thing I've always been able to control, so being fit has become incredibly important to me.
I'm not naturally curvy like Dakota, or model skinny like Bethany. This is one thing Janine and I have in common. Loving food—especially pizza and hash browns—with finicky metabolisms like ours means we have to work hard to have the physiques we want.
I still feel jealousy and awe over my friends' shapes, and yet I like my own frame too. I don't know. Sometimes I love myself, sometimes I hate myself.
All I'm saying is I went cycling this morning so I could have a pastry for breakfast and pizza for dinner later without feeling bad about my yummy habits. It just really fucking sucks that I only got three hours of sleep.
Violet is the perfect, most exhausting alarm clock.
Dakota, probably sensing my thoughts like all hairstylists do, asks me about my girl. "How's V? Still a wrecking ball like her Ma?"
I groan. "Yes. I swear she always has a new adventure up her sleeve. Woke me up at six this morning for her next one."
In no way would I wish to change Violet. What I would love is an extra hour of sleep sometimes, but who wouldn't?
She keeps me busy, which helps my mind focus on the future and less on the past. There's so much back there, and when I allow it to weigh me down, I stumble. Hard. I can't afford to trip over my issues. That's been my motto since I was eighteen years old.
For eleven years, I've been burying my bullshit. That can't be healthy. The betrayals, hurts, and traumas have lived in their shallow graves since Violet came into my life.
She's my world. There's no fucking way I'm letting my past touch her.
Shoveling another metaphorical patch of dirt onto that reminder, I take a sip of my coffee. "So, where are we dancing this weekend?"
Just like that, lightness fills me as I discuss my next adventure with my besties. My life isn't about assholes and douchebags who leave me and bruise me. At least not anymore.
My life is all about food, snuggles with my girl, partying with my friends, shaking my ass, and making shit better.
That's all I would like to do—make my life better than it was.
I won't ever sink so deep again. Nothing will drag me down.