Indigo (12 page)

Indigo. From all I learned about her this morning, and from the time spent with her last night, I can’t seem to get her off my fucking mind. I certainly never planned for something like this to happen, and as the day goes on, I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’m out of my comfort zone.

Scanning the crowd, I can’t help but search for her amongst the sea of faces, even though I know she won’t be there. She said she wasn’t coming, and she also admitted to feeling uncomfortable around a lot of people.

“I don’t get it,” Shawn mutters, checking his messages for the millionth time. “Sabrina lets me stick my tongue halfway down her throat last night at her door, but now can’t seem to find the time to answer my text message.”

I wince at his crudeness. “What did you say to her?”

“I asked her to reconsider and stop by the game, but that was hours ago and she hasn’t responded.”

The irony of the situation is not lost on me, and I can’t stop myself from teasing him. “How does it feel to be on the other side of the phone?”

He ignores me and checks his screen again. “She’s probably holed up in the music room with that asshole Jeremy.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” I remember I don’t have Indigo’s number. “Hey, you didn’t get Indigo’s number, did you?”

He scoffs. “No, that’s your job, not mine. And I can’t ask Sabrina because she hasn’t even responded to my first two messages.”

We both watch the game, but decide to leave in the middle of the third quarter. As we’re making out way down the bleachers, I see my mom standing and talking to a few other members of the faculty. Recalling that she all but declared my major without my permission, sharp betrayal rushes through me. It’s not the first time she’s done something behind my back, and I know it won’t be the last. I wonder if I’ll ever have enough courage to stand up to her. She’s always forced me to accept the fact that she knows best, but lately I feel as if I’m toeing the line of my breaking point. I need to confront her, once and for all, because I’m realizing more and more that my art isn’t something I want to bend on.

“Hey, there’s your mom, want to stop?” Shawn turns to me as we’re walking down the last set of metal stairs.

“No, not right now.”

~

I don’t see Indigo for the rest of the weekend. Thinking she might stop by the cafeteria, I waited outside one day on a bench like a stalker for a couple hours, but she never showed. Why I’m putting so much time into this I don’t know, but I can’t help it. I’m overcome with desire to see her again.

When Monday passes, and then Tuesday night rolls around, I finally cave and ask Shawn for Sabrina’s number. Heading out toward my car, I sit in the front seat to text her.

Kennedy: Hey Sabrina, its Kennedy. I was hoping you could text me over Indigo’s number.

Sabrina: Hey. I can’t I’m sorry. I promised her I’d never give out her number under any circumstances.

I debate on whether or not to ask her to ask Indigo if I can have it, but can’t make myself send such a desperate text.

Kennedy: Ok, thanks anyway. Is she all right? I haven’t seen her.

Sabrina: Yeah she’s fine. She had an unfortunate run-in w/ the Dean and has been kind of bummed all week.

Every time I read the words on the screen, my stomach bottoms out just a little bit harder. Images of what my mother could have said or done to offend Indigo assault my brain. No wonder she hasn’t tried to reach out to me or see me after Friday. Maybe whatever my mother did made Indigo decide to stay far away from me, not wanting to associate with the son of such a woman. Or maybe my mom got wind of Indigo and I hanging out, then she warned her off.

Suddenly, I’m furious. I text Sabrina back, my fingers faster than they’ve ever been over the buttons.

Kennedy: What happened with the Dean??

Sabrina: If she wants to tell you, she will. Maybe ask her about it after class tomorrow.

I step outside into the cool air and slam the door closed, my frustration mounting. If my mother did anything to interfere with this aspect of my life, I seriously don’t know how I’m going to handle it. Indigo deserves better. Before I can really think about what I’m doing, I find myself walking to Dow. All I want to do is march up to her room and apologize for my mother’s actions, but I know I can’t do that. It would probably freak her out. So I just stare up at the tall building, and eventually just walk back to my room.

Tomorrow will have to be soon enough.

INDIGO

The second week of school brings a whole new level of intensity to my dance classes, and by Wednesday, I’m practically limping around. I haven’t worked like this in a couple years, and my muscles are nearly screaming in protest as I walk into Independent study. I savor the feeling, loving the soreness because it means I’m working hard, and working toward something, moving forward in a sense.

I spot Sabrina waving at me from the back, and I make my way over to her, plopping down into the seat next to her. A groan slips out of my mouth as my butt hits the plastic seat.

“You’re walking like you have a stick up your woo-ha,” she jokes, turning so her body is facing mine.

I laugh and massage my hands over my thighs. “Yeah well you try and dance about 8 hours a day with professionals. I can’t hang with them, it’s like their bodies are made of steel.”

“I think I could dance 8 hours a day,” she tells me, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper. “But only if there was a hot guy standing behind me for motivation.”

I roll my eyes but Sabrina’s light-hearted humor makes me feel happier than I have all week and I can’t help but laugh along with her. My dance classes are difficult, but I’m learning so much, and I’m starting to feel like I might have found a very good friend in Sabrina. Nights alone are still disastrous, but one thing at a time I guess.

“What’s so funny? I’d like to laugh.”

Sabrina and I both turn to see Shawn and Kennedy standing in front of our desks. Shawn directs the question at Sabrina, and I sense the underlying tension in his tone. I wonder then if she ever texted him back or blew him off completely. When my eyes flick to Kennedy’s, my hands still on my thighs at the severe emotion in his gaze.

For a second I wonder if he expected more from me after we hung out on Friday, but that can’t be right. We never made any solid plans and I definitely never made any promises. I take in his dark eyes, large lean body, and chiseled jaw, that’s currently clenched as he looks down at me. So hard and unrelenting…and hot. No, a guy like this couldn’t possibly want much more to do with me. His mere presence is unsettling, but I try to hide it as best I can. 

“Hi.” I meet his eyes, and try to dispel some of the strength from the moment.

“Hi. Can I talk to you before you go to the auditorium?” His voice is clipped as if he’s upset about something and the words are said in a rush, as if he couldn’t wait to get them out. It isn’t the first time I’ve noticed he has a penchant for talking really fast.

“Okay.” I look up at him, wondering what could possibly be going on in his head. He nods once then turns around to sit in the desk right in front of mine. A moment later, the heated whispers from beside me stop and Shawn turns around and sits down rather noisily in the desk in front of Sabrina’s. I shoot her a glance, but she just rolls her eyes.

I fidget all throughout the beginning of class, staring at the back of Kennedy’s head. He looks really good today. A white shirt and dark jeans hug his body to perfection, and I swallow audibly as I take in his slightly mussed hair.

He
remains completely calm, however, as if whatever he has to talk to me about isn’t that important. I mentally shake my head, of course it’s not that important. What important thing could he possibly have to talk to me about?

When we’re dismissed to work independently, I throw my bag over my shoulder and hover around my desk, waiting for Kennedy to turn around and say what he has to say.

When he does, the look in his eyes has me almost physically wanting to take a step back.

“I’ll walk you to the auditorium,” he tells me. “That okay?”

I nod and he follows me out into the empty hallway. The moment we’re out of the classroom, he turns, looking down at my legs. “Are you okay? Why are you limping?”

Trying to make the limp less pronounced, I smile up at him. “Dance class is kickin’ my butt. These classes are harder than everything I’ve ever taken, they really push you. My body is still getting used to it I guess.”

Before I can protest, he grabs my bag from my shoulder and slings it effortlessly over his own. “Here, let me help you. This thing looks like it’s weighing you down.” He holds up his hand when I try to grab it back. “Just let me, please?”

He looks handsome when he asks for my permission. How can I say no to that?

“Okay, thank you Kennedy.”

There are a couple moments of silence before I hear him sigh next to me, and I know he is gearing himself up for whatever he wants to say. “Listen Indigo, about your conversation with the Dean…”

Hold up. “Wait, what? How did you know I talked to the Dean?”

“Sabrina told me,” he admits a little sheepishly. “I kind of wondered why after Friday I didn’t really see you, so I texted her.”

So he had been expecting more from me. He can’t seriously be thinking he wants to get involved in some sort of relationship, especially when he knows nothing about me? Maybe he just wants to be friends. Ha. After what I heard about him from Sabrina I doubt that’s the case. But he hasn’t been anything but nice with me. Maybe it was a little callous of me to ignore him after we had a good time on Friday, but I really don’t know what he wants. I decide to try and find out.

“Why would you want to hear from me?” I slow my steps so I can get a better look at him.

His brows draw together and I see his grip tighten on his backpack, “What do you mean? I thought we had fun on Friday.”

“We did…but, wasn’t it just that, a good time?” God, I suck at this.

“So you never planned on hanging out with me again?” His eyes narrow, but I see the flash of vulnerability in his eyes and feel awful.

“No, I mean…” I struggle to find the right words. “I would, it’s just…I didn’t know you wanted to. I didn’t know you were expecting to hear from me.” The way he’s looking at me makes me feel like I’m missing something, so I hurry up and say what needs to be said. “Listen, Kennedy, I don’t know what you want from me, or what you expect…”

“I don’t have any expectations,” he puts in quickly, now fully turning to face me. We’re standing in front of each other now, and while I was close to him while we were dancing, this feels more intimate. “I just want to know you better, is that okay? Can I do that?”

Breaking our eye contact, I stare at the floor. So he wants to get to know me better. I don’t know whether or not his statement about no expectations is true, but now that it’s been said, I’m going to make sure I hold him to it. Finally, I look back up at him. “Okay, we can work on being friends.”

Something crosses his face at my words, but he recovers himself quickly. “Thank you. Now, I’m really curious to know what happened between you on Saturday that made you so upset?”

I sigh and start walking again, and I decide right away I’ll let him know what happened. These are things I don’t mind revealing and I guess it’s a good step toward friendship. “She lured me into her office under the false pretense of meeting me face-to-face like she supposedly does with all her students, when what she really wanted is for me to do an interview with the school newspaper.”

Kennedy seems really tense beside me as he listens. “Why did she say she wanted to do the interview?” He asks the question quietly, his grip still tight on my bag.

“She didn’t really,” I admit. “Well, not her true intentions, but I know it’s all about promoting the idea that even kidnap victim Indigo Olsen feels safe at Fairbanks, so you should too. I’ve never done an interview before about what happened to me, and I don’t plan to start now.”

“Why haven’t you?” He sounds genuinely interested and I’m not sure what answer to give him so I just shrug and give him a half truth.

“I don’t like my picture taken, or anyone into my private life more than they already are. That’s why I’m not on Facebook or any of that social media stuff.” I try and get the conversation off me by asking about him. “Have you met the Dean?”

He stares at me in shock for a few seconds, searching my face. I’m just about to ask him what’s wrong when his expression goes blank and he turns away from me. “We haven’t had one of those face-to-face student meetings you’re talking about.”

“You’re lucky,” I tell him. We reach the front of the auditorium, and we turn to face each other again. The close proximity of his body makes my pulse skip under my wrist, and I try and take deep breaths as he hands my bag. Why is someone this good looking trying to spend time with an outcast like me?

“Do you think I could have your number?”

The question surprises me, because it’s the first time a guy has ever asked me for it. They might have back in high school, but I didn’t have a phone then. For some reason I feel giddy, staring up at him.

“I promise not to text you all the time.” I let out a small laugh at his joke.

“Sure.” I give him the digits and thank him for carrying my bag before heading inside, my heart pounding.