Finding Hope in Blue

Chapter 6: Boys

Cymbeline's POV:

"Jesus can't save you now! You can burn for all your sins!" I yelled as Dominique fell to the floor. Currently, we were playing the floor is lava game.

And I was nailing it.

Today, was Dominique's last day. A sadness weighed on my heart and a lump formed in my throat at the thought, but I pushed it aside and watched as Dominique pretended to burn and die.

"Alright, game over," I said sadly as I hopped off the couch and helped Dominique up.

"Ah, no," she pouted. "One more. Please."

"Don't you have a flight you moron?" I asked her. She sighed dramatically and nodded.

"Fine... let's go," she murmured. We all grabbed her bags and stuffed it into my car. The airport was a good 25 minutes away, so we played music and jammed out.

The windows were rolled down and music was turned up high. We couldn't help but dance and sing aloud, earning weird looks from strangers.

I usually hated when people did things like this too, but it was Dominique's last day. We had to make the most of it.

When we got to the airport, we helped Dominique find her place. Once we dropped her off, we said our goodbyes and watched as she left through the gates to her flight.

Watching her walk away hurt, but I was also incredibly happy. She was about to make all her dreams come true.

Afterwards, Raquelle and I went for lunch.

"What are we going to do with the extra room?" Raquelle asked as she stuffed a piece of bread into her mouth.

"What do you mean? It's Dominique's room," I told her. It's not like she was going to be gone forever.

"Cym, Dominique isn't visiting Los Angeles. She's going to be living there. For her career. She will visit Boston every so often, but she doesn't live here anymore. And I don't think we can afford the apartment without her share," Raquelle explained.

I sat there and listened. I had no idea what to say. She was right, but I didn't want to admit it. Dominique didn't live here anymore.

"We can live in my parents house for the time being. Just until we find a new apartment to move into, or until my parents come back," I offered dejectedly. She nodded and sighed.

"So, you're going to be working for this high and mighty guy?" She changed the topic. Thankfully.

"Yea, tomorrow. You should have seen this guy. He was all like 'I can't resist a damsel in distress,' blah blah blah. He was such a pretentious ass," I scoffed at the memory of him.

"Was he cute?" she grinned.

I choked on my water and coughed violently. Cute?

"I didn't notice," I avoided her eyes and took a bite of my sandwich. Remington was not that cute. He was alright.

"Righhht," she dragged the word out, giving me a secretive look. I rolled my eyes and told her to shut up.

"I'll visit you at work and see for myself, I guess. Text me the address," she winked flirtatiously.

"Go ahead," I immediately gave her the address Remington gave me. Apparently, it was a skyscraper deep into the city.

"Hello ladies," two boys said as they sat at our table and joined us.

"As I was saying, the male gender doesn't know jack shit about personal space," Raquelle smiled sweetly at me.

"Oh, feisty. I like it. I'm Timothy, and you are?" one of the boys held out his hand to Raquelle. She raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes.

"Not interested."

"Well that's too bad, because I definitely am," he grinned at her, making her turn slightly pink. "How am I supposed to resist?"

The other boy turned to me and winked. "Hi sweetheart. What brings you here?"

My eyes widened a fraction. "I'm hungry." Pfft, duh.

"Right. Any chance you'd want to be hungry together?" he smirked. "Dinner sounds fabulous with a pretty gal like you."

"Hm, try it on the next 'pretty gal' that you approach," I murmured before putting a french fry in my mouth.

"I'm afraid you're the only 'pretty gal' worth my attention," he winked. I made a sound at the back of my throat and watched as Raquelle rolled her eyes at everything Timothy said to her. The guy beside me stole a french fry off my plate and put it in his mouth slowly.

"Hey! No stealing french fries from girls. That's how you do not get a date," I moved my plate further away.

"I'll buy you as many french fries as you want. All you have to do is give me a name, a number, and an answer," he sat back and watched.

The offer sounded tempting. As many french fries as I want. He could be like my french fry sugar daddy. I was sure that whether we went on a date or not, he and I would not be a couple. So as that thought lingered in my mind, I gave him my number, my name, and a confirmation to a date. He gave me his in return. Bradley, that was his name.

One date. I had to get over Rafael. He had already moved on. Hell, he moved on when we were still together. He was in love with somebody else and that meant I was allowed to try to be with other people. Even if I didn't believe it would move anywhere.

~~

"So why didn't you accept him?" I asked Raquelle as we walked down the streets of Boston. She was talking about how she wanted to fall in love and have a family. So, why didn't she get Timothy's number?

"Because... I want to meet that person in a special way. Like, I don't know- bumping into him at a carnival or something. Or-or going to the same concert and meeting him in line to buy merchandise. Something we can bond over, not because he pulled up a chair at a restaurant and hit on me with stupid lines," she sighed dejectedly.

"What does it matter that he used dumb, pick-up lines? Just because you didn't meet him at something you love to do doesn't mean he doesn't love carnivals and concerts," I told her. She was asking for too much with romance.

She was looking for a fairytale. And that was too unrealistic.

"You remember how I met Rafael?" I asked her. The scene played in my head almost automatically.

"Of course. I was there when it happened. We all grew up together," she replied, giving me a glance that said 'Duh.'

"Well, it was not anything special or romantic but we dated and fell in love," I reminded her. We had officially met when the football team won the first game of the season and celebrated with all the cheerleaders. He was the quarterback, I was the cheer leading captain.

We were perfect. We were voted cutest couple and most likely to have a perfect life together. We were the golden couple.

Somehow, something went wrong.

"Yea, but it was also high school. We were teenagers. Things were different then," she murmured.

"I think you should have at least given him a chance. You haven't been on a date in an entire year."

"I've survived one, what's one more?"

"You can say that about anything. You can say, 'I've survived 10, what's one more.' Or, 'I've survived 30, what's one more.' You'll be 50 by the time you realize that maybe you should take your chances," I rubbed her shoulder and let my words sink in.

I didn't want her to be 50, regretting her life choices, and wishing she had done something different.