Indigo (17 page)

“Just say the word, and I’ll take you for a ride.”

Shawn is definitely on another level, and I can’t help but think something must have happened with Sabrina. From his actions in the past couple weeks, I know he was seriously digging her, and the man I’m seeing now isn’t acting like he has someone he’s interested in.

“How about next weekend?” Caprice asks. Her eyes don’t leave my face, as she takes an uninvited seat on my bed. I ignore her.

“I’m good for next weekend,” Shawn tells her, and I give him a confused look, thinking about the concert. I’m pretty sure Indigo’s excuse for inviting me was because Shawn was going, and I’ll be damned if we back out or if Indigo rescinds my invitation because of what Shawn’s doing.

“No, we’re not,” I cut in. “On Friday we have that concert.”

Shawn looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What are you talking about? What concert?”

Okay, so clearly Sabrina hasn’t asked him yet. I tread lightly when I explain. “Our friends from 99 Bottles invited us. You know, from a couple weeks ago?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then I watch his face darken. “I’m done with our friends from a couple weeks ago.”

“I don’t think they’re done with you,” I shoot back, my tone purposely light.

Caprice and Maria are watching our exchange, and I’m pretty sure it’s obvious we’re talking about other girls but it’s just as obvious they don’t care.

“How about Saturday?” Caprice doesn’t want to give up.

“Yeah, Saturday sounds perfect,” Shawn responds. But his demeanor has changed, and now he looks annoyed. I can tell he wants an explanation, so I’m not surprised when he calls it a night a few seconds later. “All right ladies. As much as we’re enjoying your company, Ken and I have a few things to discuss.”

They exchange numbers, and while Shawn hugs them both goodbye, I give them a small wave from the position on my desk, hoping they’re not including me in the Saturday plans. They leave before I can figure out a way to say it that won’t be awkward.

“All right, what the hell are you talking about?” The door slams and Shawn glares at me.

“I was just at Indigo’s dorm, and she invited me to some concert this weekend. She also said Sabrina planned on asking you to go.”

Shawn listens, but doesn’t seem as excited as I thought he would be. “Well, that surprises me.”

“Why would that be surprising? I thought you and Sabrina kind of had a thing.”

Shawn scoffs and flops down on his bed. “No. I tried to have a thing, but she keeps messing with my head. One minute she’s not answering my texts, the next she’s flirting with me and letting me kiss her. I’m tired of all the games. I made the decision this morning to be done with her.”

“Well maybe you should bring it up to her and ask for an explanation.”

“I kind of did, but I don’t want her to think I’m seriously into her or anything. Oh well. It’s the beginning of the year, and Caprice and Maria are what we should be doing, not running around like lunatics trying to please only one girl.”

I think of Indigo, her beautiful smile, and how I’m feeling more and more desperate for her every day. “Speak for yourself.”

INDIGO

That first week, the contraption Kennedy put on my window helped, but not enough to completely chase my demons away. I still only got about four hours of sleep a night, and still had to sneak in a few naps between classes. I was grateful for him, and not just because of the window. He kept me distracted, and he was becoming somewhat of a constant to me.

At first I dreaded the questions he was going to be asking me. I thought about it all night. I assumed he wouldn’t hesitate to ask me my most intimate secrets, my hidden thoughts and fears. But I should have known better, because Kennedy always surprises me, and never pushes me too far.

On Monday, I was surprised to see he was waiting for me outside my dorm as I was heading to my 9:00 class. He had a single daisy in his hand.

“Kennedy,” I greeted him, surprised. “Hi.” I glanced at the flower, my heart literally skipping a beat.

“For you,” he said, thrusting it towards me. “In honor of a new beginning.”

His mock serious tone made me laugh. I felt my cheeks heat as I took the flower, wondering if it was a symbol of a lot more. “Thank you. But what do you mean new beginning?”

“Of a new…friendship.” It took him a few seconds to get the last word out. I hid my grin, because I knew he wanted me to know that word was hard for him to say. “I’m anxious to get to know more about you, I was thinking about what question I would ask you all night.”

His mention of my promise the previous day made my anxiety creep back in. “I’m anxious too, but not in a good way.”

He stared at me for a few seconds, gauging my expression, and then sighed. “Who is your best friend?”

We had been walking, and I glanced back at him in surprise. “What?”

“Who’s your best friend?” He grinned at me and shoved his hands in his pockets, as he always did around me.

“I thought you…were going to ask about…you know.”

He shrugged. “I suppose that’s a question for another day.”

I felt instantly better and answered his question immediately. “My mother.”

“No, I mean, someone your own age.”

Deciding that the question does say a lot about me after all, I bit my lip and decided to explain. “I had friends before I was kidnapped, a few people I considered my best friends. And after it happened, they were all very supportive, but I had changed, and I didn’t want to do the things they were doing. I felt out of place. We eventually drifted apart, especially when I was homeschooled my last two years. So, the answers the same, my mother, she’s been everything to me.”

When I looked at him, he was smiling down at me. “I asked the right question.”

“Why do you say that?” His hair was unruly in the September wind as I stared up into his big brown eyes.

“Because I just learned more about you than just who your best friend is.”

On Tuesday, he was waiting for me outside my morning dance class. I was still wearing my tights and leotard, and had just loosened my hair from its tight bun. I was also an absolute sweaty mess. Throwing on my wrap skirt, I pushed my feet tiredly into a pair of Uggs and headed for the door.

I was the last one out of the studio, and I jumped when I saw him leaning against the wall. 

“Oh my god, Kennedy, you scared me.”

Not that I hadn’t been happy to see him.

His eyes darkened as he took in my outfit. And I stood still as he quickly and obviously scanned my body before landing back on my face. I was smart enough to know he was discreetly checking me out, and I found that instead of it making me nauseous like it usually would, with him, it made me feel nervous…and a little excited. Not to mention self-conscious because I probably looked like a raggamuffin.

“Sorry,” he said, then cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize how creepy this seems until just now.”

We both laughed, and like always, the rough timber of his voice seemed to linger in the silence.

He stood there, staring at me some more before saying, “What do you want to be when you’re done with college?”

Another easy one, and I couldn’t help but smile. I could tell by his answering smile that he knew it to. “I think you’re enjoying this game.”

“Immensely, but I’m just getting started,” he said, grinning, and then his eyes narrowed. “So?”

“A dance teacher. I’d like to open my own studio.”

His eyebrows shot up. “That’s great but, not a prima ballerina? Or dance on Broadway or something? I thought that’s what most dancers strived for.”

“I used to want that,” I admitted, feeling a pang my childhood dream. “But now, just a teacher. I had a wonderful teacher when I was a child, and she made me into the dancer I am today. I’d like to do the same.”

He honed in on the first part of the question. “Why isn’t it your dream anymore?”

“I couldn’t stand everyone looking at me.”

He frowned at me for a few seconds and then stood up straight. He reached a hand out, and for a second I thought he was going to touch my scar, but it dropped back in his pocket seconds later. “C’mon, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

On Wednesday, he kicked things up a notch. “Tell me about your first boyfriend.”

This one took me by surprise. It also made me extremely embarrassed, and a little depressed. I tried to mask all those emotions as I met his eyes.

“His name was Howard,” I answered, hoping it could end at that. But as we sat across the lunch table together, I could tell he wanted to know more. His face was so serious, it almost made me laugh.

“He was sweet. He would always share his lunch with me.”

Kennedy looked confused and put down his fork. “That’s all you’re going to tell me about him, that you liked him because he gave you food?”

I bit my lip to keep my smile in. “Well, he did like to hold my hand.”

“He liked to hold your hand?” He repeated in a deadpan voice. 

“Yes, and he had a serious problem wetting the bed. His mom told my mom about it.”

His fork dropped to his plate. “What the fuck?” This time, the disgusted expression on his face sent me into peals of laughter.

I tried to contain myself as he stared at me, his face appalled. “Indigo? I don’t see what’s so funny about that.”

“We were six,” I said between giggles. “In first grade. He was my boyfriend in first grade.”

I watched my words swim around his head for a few seconds, and then he rolled his eyes and began eating again. “Well thank god for that. And I meant your first serious boyfriend, Indigo. I think you knew that.”

Sighing, I grabbed my water bottle on the table, just so I had something to do with my hands. “I know. But I’ve never had a serious boyfriend, ever. Not even close. Howard…has been my only one.” It took a lot to say the words, and thankfully when I looked up, I didn’t see pity in his eyes. “I had a few boys I had a crush on in high school…but it never went anywhere. Then after that…”

I let the sentence trail off, and waited for him to say something. When he did, I threw my water bottle cap at his head, not knowing whether to laugh or be offended.

“That’s fucking awesome.”

Thursday rolled around, and by this point I was thoroughly distracted by thoughts of Kennedy. I didn’t know why he was playing these games with me, all I knew was that, when I was with him, all thoughts of my kidnapping, my scar, my new classes, the Dean, and every other little thing fell by the wayside. He had a way of concentrating my attention solely on him.

“If you could describe yourself in two words, what would they be?”

We had been walking back to my dorm after our last class, and the question gave me pause.

“In terms of what? Physically, emotionally?”

“How about both,” he replied. “Let’s start with emotional.”

Our hands were swinging side by side, and I wondered if he was going to grab mine, but he didn’t. I remember thinking I should try and keep my answers positive. With every passing day, I wanted him to like me more and more.

“Okay, well, emotionally, I would say…empathetic. I feel strongly for things that maybe I shouldn’t. Sometimes to the point of ridiculousness my mom tells me.”