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Half an hour later, the two of them were doing free weights
in the corner gym. Jude’s arms ached though he’d barely started, a trickle of
sweat running down the centre of his back.

“Whatcha guys working on this time?” Elliot asked.

“Just a program,” Jude said carefully.

 “Another app?”

Jude shook his head. Last year he and Marq had programmed
three separate apps, hoping to cash in on the buzz, but so far, the cash they’d
earned had been minimal. Jude was certain there was a million dollar idea out
there somewhere. He hadn’t found it yet, but today it felt just a little bit
closer.

“What kind of program is it?” Elliot panted.

“A program,” Jude said weakly, “and not the kind I can talk
about.”

The software he and Marq had designed was illegal. Jude knew
that. But the way it worked pushed it into the gray area of ethics where
hackers thrived. It hid in plain sight, shaving off a fraction of the interest
that banks gave to their clients. Every interaction, every account, every day.
The system only took a portion of the hundredths and the thousandths place out
of the bank statements; never all of it. It was, Jude’s mind argued, hardly
anything in the grand scheme of things. Everyone took a slice of the pie; he
was just taking a small bit of his own.

Jude knew Elliot wouldn’t see it this way.

“You’re hacking again, aren’t you,” Elliot grumbled. Jude
recognized the tone:
disappointment.
Elliot was the single friend who
spanned the time before and after Jude had been expelled from high school. Most
times, Jude appreciated that fact. Today it was just another barb of annoyance.

 “It’s nothing,” he mumbled.

Jude focused on lifting weights, his eyes on his reflection
in the mirror. He looked terrible: dark circles under his eyes and a face that
was far too pasty. Elliot was right. He
did
need to get out more.

“It’s never nothing,” Elliot argued. “If you get caught
again—”

“It’s
fine
. I can handle it.”

Elliot set the weights back on the rack, turning around and
crossing his arms on his chest. Guilt rose along with an old memory. Elliot,
standing in his mother’s hallway in exactly the same position, yelling at him.
“You’ve
got to tell them it was you, Jude! You’ve got to do the right thing!”
Jude
swallowed hard, remembering the rest of his words.
“What would your dad
think if he was alive?”

“Jude, you can’t handle—”

“Yes,” Jude snapped. “I can.” He did another curl, biceps
burning. “You gotta trust me on this.”

“Trust you? I don’t think so.”

Jude glanced up in surprise, but Elliot was smirking.

 “Nice,” Jude coughed. “Real nice.”

 “Anyone gonna get hurt?” Jude recognized
this tone
too:
the acceptance he didn’t always deserve.

 “Nope.”

“You gonna get in trouble for it?”

“I’m not actually using it,” Jude explained. “Just making it
for someone. It’s only programming, Elliot, nothing else.”

“Programming?”

“Fine. Hacking.”

“Juuuude…”

“And before you ask,” he said tiredly, “yes, I’m covering my
tracks.” Elliot raised an eyebrow. “I was sloppy and dumb in high school,” Jude
added sheepishly. “This isn’t the same.”

“You end up losing your job over this,” Elliot said dryly.
“Friends off.”

Jude began to laugh. It was the exact same thing Elliot had
been claiming since childhood.

“You can’t friends off me. You’ve known me since we were
six!”

“And you’re just as stupid.”

“It’s nothing,” Jude insisted. “Promise.”

It was almost the truth.

: : :
: : : : : : :

Indigo wasn’t waiting for him. She didn’t wait around for
people, least of all guys. She let them to come to her. They always did.

Except for Jude Alden, that is.

Indigo shut down the computer, pulling on her jacket, and
standing. Papers were scattered across the surface of the desk, and she raked
them into a messy pile before shoving them into her bag. The girl next to her
gave her an anxious look and she fought down the urge to yell at her. She was
in a terrible fucking mood.

Two weeks had passed since the day Jude and Indigo had gone
for coffee. At the time, he’d seemed pretty determined to see her again and
she’d been convinced she was going to see him again the next day. But that
class had come and gone, and he hadn’t shown up at all. She’d assumed he’d find
an excuse to stop by at break the day after. He hadn’t done that the first
week, or the next. Even Shireese had stopped teasing her about him.

‘Not waiting,’
her mind hissed, but it still left her
wondering what had happened to him.

Indigo gave Professor Sakamoto a quick wave as she headed
out into the hallway. She paused just outside the classroom, glancing up and
down, watchful as ever, then aiming toward the exit doors. The film class was
driving her crazy, the documentary deadline looming. Sakamoto had reminded her
twice that she needed to get some original footage, not just stock video and
photographs. Last class he’d brought in one of the university’s cameras and a
signed permission form for Indigo to submit to the Media Centre in order for
her to use it.

Still she delayed.

There
were
no happy birthday videos of her childhood,
no Christmas mornings with pink-cheeked children whining about not getting the
Tickle-me-Elmos they wanted. There was just the start of this life: the one
which had begun the day Indigo had enrolled in night classes, desperate to get
her GED and off the street. To start over. If her life was a book, Indigo
thought as she headed out the doors of the New Media wing into the icy wind,
then the first hundred pages were blank.

Indigo pulled the book bag higher on her shoulder, walking
faster. The seasons had begun to slip toward winter. There’d been a frost two
nights ago, the windows of the apartment weeping the next morning. Indigo hated
the cold. It reminded her too much of the memories the now-empty pages used to
hold. She knew, for instance, that you could sleep on an air vent from a large
building and stay warm enough to avoid frostbite with only a cardboard box as
protection. Her expression tightened and she forced the thought away. Film
project or not, she had erased those pages and she meant to keep them that way.

A block from the subway station entrance, the sound of a
vehicle approaching caught Indigo’s attention. The horn tapped once and she
stepped skittishly sideways, peeking over her shoulder. It was a small, red
sportscar. Jude Alden sat in the passenger seat, a guy she didn’t know driving.
The car had barely stopped when Jude jumped out.

“I’ll catch up later, Marq,” Jude called out to his friend.
“Give me a call once you drop off the project.”

The man inside shouted, “Later then!” and the car sped away,
wheels squealing. Jude jogged to where she stood.

“Indigo,” he breathed.

“Hey Jude,” she said, then rolled her eyes. She hated that
fucking song. Jude apparently did too. He groaned.

“Yeah, like I haven’t heard
that
before,” he laughed,
faint ghosts of white appearing with each word. “I was hoping it was you.
Couldn’t tell for sure from behind.” He zipped his jacket higher, tucking his
hands into his pockets. “It’s great to see you again.”

Indigo nodded, wondering why the hell she felt so giddy all
of a sudden. She
should
be pissed at him for dropping off the face of
the Earth, but she couldn’t help but smile back.

“It’s good to see you too,” she muttered.

“You walking home?”

“No,” she said, nodding toward the entrance. “Taking the
subway. Too cold.”

“Can I walk to the station with you?”

She shrugged indifferently, starting down the street,
leaving Jude to follow.

“So what’ve you been up to?” he asked.

“School work. Work work,” Indigo muttered. “Same old, same
old.” She glanced up, finding him watching. “You?”

“Been working on a project with Marq,” he answered.
“Goddamned thing was supposed to take a day or two at most, but it ate up two
entire weeks.” He chuckled. “Kept wanting to drop by the computer lab to see
you, but never had the time.”

“Huh. Never noticed,” she said archly. “You done now?”

He grinned. “Finished up yesterday. And I thought maybe,
since I had a little time off…”

He reached out, brushing her arm and she shivered, either
from cold or anticipation. Indigo wouldn’t think of which. She stopped walking,
moving under the overhang of an abandoned building, the dark stairwell to the
subway still half a block away.

“You thought
what,
Jude?” Indigo prompted. She was
going to make him say it. Make him ask.

He stared down at her, his eyes impossibly bright despite
the drabness of the day. They weren’t just green, they were hazel. The pupils
were ringed with gold, the outside of the iris so intense it was almost brown,
two completely different colours blended as one.

“I thought maybe I could take you out for dinner.”

She bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling.
Instead of answering, she forced herself to wait, watching as his face lost the
surety of seconds earlier.

“Hmmm,” Indigo said, raising an eyebrow. “I haven’t decided
yet.”

Jude’s smile wobbled.

“Oh, okay?”

She laughed, his uncertainty leaving her inexplicably happy.
Indigo stepped nearer, her fingers pressing against the front of his jacket,
eyes narrowed. He stumbled back, taking them into what had once been a shop
doorway, but was now just a boarded up cubicle, closed on three sides.

“Wha..?”

Before he could finish, she kissed him. It was brief and
violent, lips smashing together in a brutal embrace. She wanted to know if he
tasted like she remembered, and if her body would respond the way it had months
earlier, or if it’d been the alcohol and grief, nothing else. Her hands
tightened on his collar, pulling him against her. The second Jude reacted, his
hands rising to her waist, she broke the kiss.

 “What was that for?” he breathed.

“Just wanted to see if I remembered right.”

His eyes widened.

“And?”

She reached out, straightening his collar. “You’re not a bad
kisser… for a frat boy.”

He laughed, the sound warm and easy, and her gaze jumped up
to his face. They were still in the overhang of the building, nearly out on the
street, but it felt like they were alone.

“That didn’t count,” he growled.

A thrill of excitement ran up her spine.

“And how d’you figure
that.”

“
You
kissed
me
, not the other way around,” he
said. His words were low, and darker than they’d been before. He reached out,
his hand gripping her elbow. “That kiss doesn’t count.”

Indigo smirked.
Manipulative
. She hadn’t expected
that from him. She liked that. It scuffed up his squeaky clean surface. Made
Jude interesting in ways she hadn’t expected.

“Well,” she scoffed. “I’m not sure you deserve a second ch—”

She never had time to finish.

This time he was the one who started it; he reached out,
cupping her face and pulled her forward into a rough kiss. One hand slid into
her hair, the other wrapping around her back as he pushed her against the
plywood sheet that covered the windows. His lips were rough and insistent, his
tongue pushing into her mouth rather than waiting for permission. In seconds,
he had her pinned in place, one foot between her two, his hips angling against
her as if they were in a dark bedroom, not exposed to the bright light of
midday. Indigo moaned, the sound catching her by surprise. Her hands slid up
his chest to wrap his neck, legs weak.

This
was what she remembered.

He broke away from her, though one hand stayed against the
back of her head, buffering her from the wood, the other still looped around
her waist.

“Wow,” she panted.

“I take it I passed?”

“Yeah,” she replied shakily. “I s’pose you did.”

“Good,” Jude said, the hand in her hair slipping down to
stroke her neck. “Then let me take you to dinner. Friday alright?”

She nodded, and Jude stepped back, letting go of her
altogether. The wind rose, leaving her chilled where she’d once been warm.
Indigo fought down the urge to reach out for him again, pinning her arms to her
side instead. She didn’t do
that
either.

“I’ll call you tonight,” Jude promised. “We can talk about
it then.”

Indigo stared at him in confusion. “But you don’t even have
my number.”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling.

“Oh, I have my sources.”

“So are you going to talk to him?” Shireese asked.

She and Tanis sat at the kitchen table folding flyers for
the band while Indigo washed dishes in the sink behind them.

“I did talk to him,” Indigo said. “We’ve got plans for
Friday.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it,”
Shireese said dryly. She lifted a pile of flyers, setting them into the box
next to Tanis. “He’s gonna find out at some point.”

Indigo picked a plate out of the sink, dropping it with a
splash into the rinse water, her fingers swirling the surface. When she didn’t
answer, Shireese pushed on.

“When he asks about you, you’re gonna have to say
something,
”
she said. “Might be easier if you tell him on your own.”

Indigo fished several clean dishes out of the water,
arranging them in the drying rack before pulling a tea towel from the oven
door. She turned around, leaning against the sink, her eyes on the middle
distance as she dried the plates.

“He won’t ask,” she grumbled. “He only knows me from the
university.”