Chasing Blue

9. My Name

I thought it'll be awkward, but I'm strangely fine talking to Blue and the others as if nothing happened yesterday. Maybe I underestimated myself.

I'm in my English class sitting with Blue. He grabs my note and turns its page back to copy the last few pointers he missed our teacher say. He's a slow note-taker, or maybe I'm just a super fast one.

I try to get it back but he doesn't let it go, still copying my notes in his.

"Bl–" I begin to say his name, then I stop and stiffen.

What Ashley said yesterday comes to my mind: Do you like it that fucking much when she calls you Blue while you're fucking her?!

I let go of the note. For a brief moment, Blue seemed to have stopped writing but then he continues.

Clutching my pen tight, I feel a mix of anger and hurt from that memory.

The whole day goes by smoothly except that I can't seem to call him Blue.

I can't just call him Michael now, either, he and the others will know something is up. So I avoid calling him altogether.

Once the school is over, Blue gives me a lift home.

He misses the turn to go to my house.

"Where are you going?" I ask him.

"The coffee truck," he says.

Maybe he thinks I'm still upset about yesterday and wants to make up for it.

He brings two cups of coffee to our table. The intoxicating bitter and sweet smell relaxes me like the last time I smelt it.

"Dayna?"

"Hmm."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I told you, I'm fine."

"Then why haven't you called my name even once today?"

I place my cup down and look away, suddenly more interested in the sunset. "What are you saying?"

"You know what I'm saying. You haven't said my name yet. What's my name, Dayna?" he asks softly.

I dig my fingers into my thighs. Why is he asking me that?

"Michael," I tell him.

He laughs bitterly. "Is that what you call me?"

I want to. I want to say "Blue" but it gets stuck in my throat as Ashley's comment circles back in my mind. I can feel my eyes watering.

"Just say my name, Dayna. Once," he almost pleads.

I remain silent.

He pulls my arm making me look at him.

"My name," he says with a firm voice that for a second wavers my resolution.

"That's not your name," I tell him as a matter of fact.

"It is for you," he says.

I look away and he pulls my hand again forcing me to look at him.

"Call my name, Dayna. Please."

"No," I say a little cross.

"Why not?" he asks normally. My angry tone had absolutely no effect on him.

"I don't want to."

"Why don't you want to?"

"Please, Michael."

"Don't. Don't do that Dayna," he says now angrily. "Call me what you usually call me."

"Nobody else calls you that."

"I don't care, and I don't want anyone else to, either! But you can't stop calling me that!"

"Why not?" I pull my hand away from him and stand up. He stands up, too. I don't even know why we both are arguing like this when neither of us did anything wrong.

"Why not? Why can't I call you Michael? You never really liked it anyway when I called you B–" I stop.

"Called me what?" he asks.

I start to leave when he holds me by my hand. "Called me what, Dayna?"

I shrug his hand away and shouts at him, "Don't! Just leave it be. If I don't want to means I don't want to!"

He shouts in return, "Why should I? You never listened to anything I said. Why should I listen to you? I told you not to come after me but you did. You kept following me around saying Blue this, Blue that, and now you won't even say it once?"

"I don't want to," I tell him, my hands crossed.

"Why? I need a better explanation than that."

"You know why."

"No, I don't."

"You were there when she talked about me like that," I tell him, tears threatening to overflow in my lower eyelids.

"So, you don't want to call me Blue because you don't want her to think that I like you? You hate it that much that someone might think that I like you?"

"No. It's not like that."

"Then, how is it like, Dayna?"

I uncross my hands and tell him, "why don't you get it? She said things. She said things that I don't like." Unbeknownst to me tears have already started coming down my cheeks. I wipe them away in vain when Blue hugs me.

"Dayna, please. You can't let someone like her get to you. You can't stop being yourself because of her. And the you I know, only the you I know, calls me Blue. When you don't call me that, it feels like you're not yourself."

He pulls me away slightly and lifts my chin up. "So, please call me what you always call me."

With tears constantly streaming down my cheeks, I look at now blurred Blue and say, "Blue."

For a brief moment I see an expression on Blue that I don't comprehend but it passes quickly before he pulls me back into a hug and says, "good."