D E N I A L
D E N I A L
(n.) a psychological defense mechanism in which confrontation with a personal problem or with reality is avoided by denying the existence of it.
"OWEN!" OLIVIA screeched as her brother smacked her face with cake icing and ran away guffawing. Olivia growled, taking off her velvet jacket for Brooke to hold and running after her brother.
"Come back here you ugly ass!"
"We're twins you idiot!"
"Do those two ever stop fighting?" Brooke sighed, taking another sip form her punch as she watched two blond heads bobbing through the crowd. "God, though. They're both hot."
Dean laughed and tightened his arm around Bleu's shoulders. She smiled at him for the sake of their status in school as the power couple and leaned over to place her head on his shoulder, suddenly tired.
It was their school's 60th anniversary. So to celebrate, the school held a party and everyone was required to attend for incentives. Bleu would rather just stay home.
Movement to her right came across her peripheral vision and she lazily looked to see what it was. The door opened, and a tall, slim figure shyly slipped through.
Bleu caught her breath. Paris looked gorgeous in a silk nude dress. The dress hung from her shoulders in delicate ties and connected together at her front in a V, emphasizing her collarbones and cleavage. Her brown waves were down in soft careless curls, her naturally stunning green eyes needing and having minimal makeup, and her natural pink lips complimented her dress perfectly. She was sexy without meaning to.
This was why she didn't want to come. It's been a week since the kiss, and she had avoided Paris like the plague. She was confused as hell about her feelings, and being around Paris didn't help. And the annoying problem is, maybe being around her helped too much. All she knew was that being involved with an undercover princess was a bad idea.
But she already is and she knew it.
"Ooh Paris!" Brooke noticed the brunette and waved her over excitedly. "You look hot!" She complimented over the pounding music playing. She stood up to hug the green eyed beauty.
"Hey Par," Dean greeted. "How are you feeling?" His concern for Paris as a friend was natural. Bleu knew Dean was really a caring person and his friends were always the recieving end of his affection. He had changed a whole lot over the year, and he always tells her it was because of her.
Since they were seated at a round table, the only space available was the spot Olivia had occupied, which was right next to Bleu. Paris greeted them all in return and tried to meet her eyes, but she wouldn't look at her. The brunette smiled at something Brooke said and sat down next to Bleu.
When her soft skin brushed against her own, Bleu got up. "I'm going to the bathroom." Looking at Brooke only, she quickly walked away to escape into the bathroom.
Thankfully, there was no one else in the bathroom. Bleu walked over to the sink and brough up a hand to clear a smudge at the base of her chin. Her chrome blue eyes stared back at her, her makeup done to perfection. Bleu Ivy never failed to impress with her looks, no matter how much she tried not to care. The simple red dress she wore matched her lips, her golden hair still in its half-up pristine condition. She looked put-together, at least. Unlike the mess that she was inside. She sighed. She should be out there flirting with her boyfriend and mingling with people, not hiding in the bathroom because the girl she kissed walked in the room.
The door opened and Paris once again got Bleu's heart into overdrive. She really was just so beautiful.
"What are you doing here?" She arched a perfect brow whilst closing and locking the door behind her.
Bleu swallowed hard.
"I have to go." She said hastily and moved to go out but Paris quickly blocked her exit by placing her hand firmly on the door, bringing her face closer to the panting blonde.
"Are you..." she whispered in a shell pink ear as she stood behind her with her hand still on the door. "In denial?"
"God, Paris how can I ever be in denial when there's nothing to deny?"
"Hmm," Paris hummed. "Then why have you been avoiding me after the kiss?"
Bleu sighed, then turned around to face her, anger on her features. "Because, Paris, I have a boyfriend. And this isn't right."
Paris felt like cold water was just splashed on her face and leaned back. "Okay. I'm sorry," she hung her head. "I'm not gonna lie, Bleu. I'm hell of a lot attracted to you, and I know deep down in me I want something more. With everything that's been happening in my life, you made me forget about everything. You're my solid rock." She smiled at Bleu. "So if you want to just be friends, I'm more than ok with that. As long as I get to keep you in my life."
Bleu was amazed by Paris' respect for her. She felt like slapping herself for not approaching and talking to her sooner like an adult.
Bleu hugged her then. "Thank you for understanding." And even as she said those words, it just didn't feel right.
Paris was giving her a chance to decide. She wasn't pushing her. It was all in her hands. Am I making the right choice by walking away from her like this?
Then an insane thought went in her mind. She just needed the push to do it.
"Paris, um," she blushed, looking down. With her heels, she was almost the same height as Paris as she was in simple strap sandals. The brunette looked at her straight in the eye when Bleu looked up again.
"Forget what I said." Bleu held Paris' face in her hand and kissed her for the second time that week. The moment she did, she felt tingles to the tips of her fingers. Her lips were indeed heavenly, and Bleu drank her in like a woman in the desert. She nipped at her lips and danced with her tongue. Her hand subconsciously traced the long expanse of skin the slit of Paris' dress had revealed. The princess moaned when she gently bit the side of her neck, rubbing against her. They were both beyond the thought of formality, everything else was already forgotten. There was just lust. Pure, raw, lust. It was like everything they've been trying to ignore built up to this very moment, and they were both bombs about to explode.
Bleu snuck a hand through the slit of her dress and into the front of Paris' underwear. She's wearing a thong. Bleu briefly mused before grabbing it and ripping it off of her.
Paris softly growled then and it was the sexiest thing Bleu had ever heard in her life.
"Oh god," she whimpered when Bleu's fingers whispered over the top of her bare core. "Tease." She grabbed the other's waist and pulled her against herself.
"Fuck," Bleu mouthed against her ear. "You're so wet and I haven't even touched you yet."
Paris weakly nodded, her mind a fog of passion. Despite it being murky, one clear thought popped in her mind that made her grabbed Bleu's wrist to stop her.
"Wait, wait," she panted. "This isn't right, remember? You said so yourself."
"And I told you to forget what I said." Bleu pulled back then, frowning and breathing hard. When she saw the look on Paris' face, her frown deepened and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Oh right. Because I have a boyfriend and because we're both girls."
"No, no, sweetheart," Paris smoothed her thumb over Bleu's cheeks. "I want our first to be in a better place than the school's dirty restroom." She chuckled.
Bleu smiled, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "Thank you. For always respecting me."
I really, really like her. Bleu thought. What a funny place to realize that.
So despite the fear in her heart, she knew what she had to do.
She took Paris' hand for strength, and squeezed it, her blue eyes telling the other girl everything.
In a few moments she was looking for Dean. It wasn't fair for him. She wasn't in love with him. She was in love with the feeling he gave her when Paris left.
Her heart wrenched. He saved Paris' life. He was head over heels in love with Bleu. He treated Paris well. He would do anything for Bleu.
And she was about to break his heart.
"Hey babe!" Dean called. Bleu spotted him on the dance floor, his pressed button-up shirt emphasizing his muscles and his pants fitting him perfectly. He looked like the perfect, handsome boyfriend with his wolfish grin, chocolate eyes and honey blond hair. But he just wasn't for her and she couldn't keep doing this to him. She couldn't keep lying. He deserved better.
"Babe? What's wrong?"
Suddenly, a gunshot was heard. Screams exploded around Bleu and she ducked her head, kneeling on the floor.
"Bleu!" Paris screamed, running towards her from her spot at the corner. More gunshots sounded and the twins tackled the tall brunette to the ground.
"Get down!" Bleu heard Owen yell and she was thankful they were there. Paris could've gotten shot.
Bleu didn't think and just got up to run to them. The moment she did, a trigger pulled and a bullet soared. And the rest seemed to happen in slow motion.
A hard body slammed against her, knocking the air from her lungs. It was Dean.
She looked over his shoulder to see a man wearing a mask and holding a gun, pointed right at them. Before he could pull the trigger, his body convulsed, and he collapsed on the floor. A dark-haired woman with the most grey eyes Bleu had ever seen was immediately in front of her, gently carrying Dean's body to place it on the floor.
Oh god, Bleu quickly knelt down beside Dean, a trembling hand pressed to her mouth. He was shot trying to protect her.
"Stay down," the woman yelled over the gunshots. She dragged an upturned metallic table to cover them and ran to Paris and the twins, her own handgun clutched in both of her hands.
"No, no, no," Bleu chanted over and over, pulling Dean's head close to her chest. "Not like this, please. No, no, no, no..." she rocked back and forth, stroking his hair. He wasn't moving, but she could still feel his breath against her neck.
Soon the tall, dark-haired woman had returned with Paris and the twins in tow, still ducking to avoid the gunshots. Bleu was ashamed to think that she was thankful there were a lot of people in the huge room. Everyone was running, pushing, screaming; the shooters couldn't see them behind the upturned table.
And just as quickly as it had started, it stopped.
Sirens sounded then, and the gunshots stopped. The police had arrived. Commotion sounded outside but Bleu wasn't listening. She was in shock.
"Paris," the dark-haired woman was still checking Paris for shots. "We have to leave, now."
"No, Kael," Paris said firmly, kneeling down beside Dean. "I'm not leaving them. They came for me, and all of this is my fault."
"It will get worse if you stay here longer," her guardian said, holstering her gun and covering it with her shirt. "You're putting them in danger."
"Ohmygod where's Brooke?" Olivia frantically dragged her brother to his feet. "We have to find her!"
They left, and paramedics came to take Dean. Bleu was limp, shocked. Everything was just fine a few seconds ago. Now she was afraid to stand up to see the chaos around her.
"They're even more desperate to kill you," Kael said in an accent Bleu couldn't quite place. "We must leave, now."
"I can't leave Bleu," Paris implored even as her guardian was pulling her to her feet. The entire room looked like it went through an apocalypse. "I told her everything. If they catch her, who knows what they'll do to her to get her to speak."
Kael growled then, pulling Bleu to her feet. "Not a word. Our new place isn't even ready yet," she then proceeded to ramble in a language Bleu could only assume was in curses. "I need to speak with your parents. You need your own bodyguard. I'll contact the Academy." She spoke to Bleu in short, concise clips. "You're lucky I came in time to protect Paris."
And right after she spoke to her, Bleu was engulfed in her parents' arms, their words of worry and concern going past her head. When they told her to grab her bag and follow them home with Kael and Paris, she numbly obeyed. As they walked outside, students and teachers were being wheeled in ambulances or were being tended to outside the school. Bleu felt sick to her stomach when she saw Dean enter the ambulance in a stretcher and tubes stuck down his throat, his mother crying beside him.
In the car, she looked down in her bag to find her phone.
Instead, she found a note.
Don't wait for the heart in the sink to become hers.
C A M A R A D E R I E
P L E T H O R A
W A R
C A T H A R S I S
N O S T A L G I A
E P I L O G U E
Why the advertisement? — Our author's income is mainly generated from the advertisements.
Tired of ads, try our pro account!