.⋆｡⋆🍯˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.
❛ 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞. ❜
blue romero fled to la when she
was eighteen years old, with
absolutely nothing - not even
a name. all of that changes
just by walking into a bakery.
911 S1-5 BUCK...
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AUGUST 6, 2018 2:03 PM
August 6th, 1996 — My birthday.
I got the date tattooed in tiny roman numerals on my collarbone when I was a teenager — partially because of Rihanna, and partially because I knew it would anger my mom.
I used to celebrate my birthday by finding a party with my friends or hosting a fundraiser or something with my philanthropist neighbour. I always enjoyed celebrating even the small things, so my birthday used to be a big occasion.
Nowadays though, I avoided it like the plague. My first year in Los Angeles, I didn't even tell Fiona it was my birthday. I just worked like it was any other shift. The year after, we celebrated with only a dozen cupcakes and cocktails made by Emma. And last year was the same.
While every other event was still done big, my birthday didn't feel celebratory to me anymore. Fiona, on the other hand, never felt the same.
"Happy birthday Blue!"
I flinched, the box of royal icing cookies nearly sliding out my hands. I took a second to remind myself the intention of this surprise was not meant to be harmful — and a smile soon grew on my face.
A crowd was all standing around the 118 dining room, Fiona smack dab in the middle with a big cake in front of her, celebrating me.
I grinned wider. "Thank you."
"Woo!" Buck cheered while he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, "I can't believe you're finally — wait, how old are you?"
I shied away from the affection — Not that the team wasn't used to it by now — and put the cookies on the table. "Twenty-two."
"Twenty-two?" Hen, Chimney, Bobby and Athena all exclaimed, each with a different expression. I didn't realize I had never mentioned my age to them. I just assumed they knew, or had guessed at some point.
