Blue(3)

By: H.J. Bellus



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.

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