Love Out of Order (Indigo Love Spectrum) (3 page)

Hey. Even if I had no chance, it was nice to dream.

The star of the show demanded my attention,
announcing that she was ready to open presents and cut
the cake. I turned to face her and attempted to push John
to the back of my mind. It wasn’t hard to do once I
started to worry about Astoria’s reaction to her present
again.

STUDY BUDDY

The next day, I replied to Astoria’s text as I left the library because she’d asked where I was. Still not really
feeling like telling her about John, I gave her a vague
reply.

I got into my car, dumped my books and laptop in
the passenger seat and started the engine. To my surprise,
it sputtered to life on the first try. I took that as a good
sign. I did a little happy dance in the driver’s seat as I
buckled my seatbelt while still holding my phone in one
hand.

Just as I was about to put my phone in the cup
holder, my text message alert tone sounded. I flipped
open my phone and found a new message from Astoria.

Who you studyin’ with? You hate studyin’ with people
.
Astoria’s message was right to the point, as always.

A guy. From our evidence class,
I again left my return
text vague.

What guy? TELL ME NOW!!!
she responded.

After a hesitant moment, my fingers poised above the
keypad, I decided that there was no point in trying to hide it. I typed in my reply,
John
.

Archer? The transfer?

Yeap.

Oh. Really.

I decided not to answer her last text.

* * *

Suse was waiting for me when I pulled into my
parking lot. She looked more excited than I was. She was
almost bouncing up and down in front of my apartment
door.

I found Suse’s enthusiasm contagious. “We don’t have
much time!”

I opened the door to my apartment. For once, I barely
saw Tia’s mess. Tia was my roommate. She was light
skinned and had curly, light brown hair and light brown eyes. She couldn’t have been much over five feet tall.

It was amazing to me that such a small girl could
create such a huge frustration. She left her dirty under
wear in the bathroom after taking a shower. She left her
clean underwear hanging over the shower rod to dry. She
piled oatmeal- and pasta-encrusted bowls in the kitchen
sink. And I was sick of seeing her books and clothes sprawled all over the living room. She talked too loudly
on the phone. Her boyfriend, Terry, was practically a third roommate. And the two of them had the most
obnoxiously loud sex. Astoria sometimes referred to them as “the porno stars.”

“So . . . smells like your roommate’s been trying to
cook again,” Suse said, wrinkling her nose. It did, and it
made my stomach hurt.

“
Yeah, I know. Come on, let’s go to my room,” I said,
hurrying her into my room. I didn’t know if Tia was there
or not—her not answering the door for Suse was no indi
cation. She could have been in her room, passed out. If I
didn’t answer the door, there was a very good chance it
would never get answered. The main reason I hadn’t
fought Terry having his own key was so I wouldn’t have to answer the door for him all the time.

The apartment always smelled like old cheese except
for my room, which constantly had a scented candle
burning in it. I had given up on all efforts to keep the apartment clean. As soon as I had cleaned it—back when
I was foolish enough to waste my time doing such a
thing—she had made a mess again. Sometimes she made a mess while I was cleaning.

In addition to giving up on keeping the apartment
clean, I had given up on discussing any and all issues with
Tia that I had with Tia. She would nod and smile, her
eyes glazed over the whole time, not listening to a word I
said. That glassy stare made me angrier than her mess; just knowing she wasn’t taking me seriously. And after
our one-sided conversations, the place would be just as
nasty as before, if not more so. And so I just lived and let
live. And bided my time until May.

“Who is this guy? You never even gave me a name,”
Suse said, grinning.

“John. He’s one of the transfers.” I hoped my tone
came off airy, as intended, and not insanely hopeful, like
I felt. “So, what should I wear?”

S
use was already in my closet. “So, tell me more
about John.” She held up a skirt, frowned and then put
it back in the closet.

“Well, he’s tall. He’s got dark hair. He’s hot. He seems
really funny from his comments in class. I’ve never had a
real conversation with him before yesterday, though,” I
said, deliberately leaving out any racially descriptive
words.

“Sounds like a catch,” Suse said, grinning.

“Well, it’s just coffee at B and N. And Evidence. I don’t want to build it up too much and then get
disappointed.”

Suse nodded, scrutinizing a pair of jeans before
tossing them back on the closet floor. “Denise, you either
need to start hanging things up or start ironing.”

“Eh.” I shrugged and went to find my makeup bag. I
knew it was buried in one of the plastic containers
stacked in the corner of my room.

“It’s a miracle. I think I found something,” Suse said.
She handed me a striped button-down shirt and a
camisole. She then took my make-up bag away from me.
“We have to make you a sexy study buddy.”

I laughed.

“You know, you really should wear makeup more. At
least eye makeup. You have such gorgeous eyes.” Suse
handed me the eyeliner pencil because she knew I had
this huge fear of being blinded by one and had to do that
part myself.

I looked into the mirror, holding the pencil off to the
side. People always said that about my eyes. They’re
w
ide-set and brown and complemented my high cheek
bones. At least that’s what the lady at the makeup counter
at Macy’s told me once when I let Suse drag me over to
her.

After Suse and I primped me for my study date, she
wished me luck and left. My heart started slamming
against my rib cage as soon as she drove away from my
apartment complex and reality sank in. I was about to
meet John Archer outside of class. Just the two of us. I hoped. I would feel like such a fool if a whole group of
people were there. And if I didn’t hurry, I would be late.

I jumped into my car and started the ignition. Success again. At least my car was on my side that afternoon. My palms were sweating like I was about to give an opening
statement. I couldn’t stop shaking even though I had the
heat on full blast. The weather was a lot colder than it had
been the day before, but not cold enough to have me shiv
ering like I was. I sat there, thinking of all the horrible
things that could go wrong as my car warmed up. Man, I
needed a new car. I had too much time to think on my
hands. And I was really torturing myself.

What if John didn’t show up? What if he forgot?
What if he never intended to show up? What if he
showed up with his hot girlfriend? Somewhere inside, I
knew that was unlikely since I’d heard she lived in Boston
and it was Sunday afternoon, but rationality wasn’t my
strong suit at that moment.

Finally, mercifully, my car warmed up and I was off.
The drive was not a long one, but I felt like was driving
to Fredericksburg instead of just a few miles down the r
oad. I sang along with the radio at the top of my lungs
to a song I didn’t know the lyrics to. I did a quick mental
review of what we had covered in our last Evidence class.
I tried counting the number of black cars on the road, the
number of cars with tint, the number of cars with luggage
racks, the number of SUVs; but nothing would suppress
the dominant thought flashing in neon lights in the center
of my brain. I was meeting John Archer
.
To study. Just to
study. Why wasn’t that last part resonating with me?

When I got there, it took me forever to get out of the
car. I dropped everything I was trying to carry several
times. Except, thankfully, for my laptop. As I finally
closed my car door, I caught sight of a Kompressor parked
in the row of cars in front me. It had a Connecticut license
plate. I stared at the blue and white license plate,
clutching my Evidence book to my chest. It had to be
John’s. How I happened to park in the row behind him, I
had no idea. All of a sudden, I really had to pee.

I spotted him as soon as I walked into the café area.
My eyes went straight to him whenever he was in a room.
He sat back in a leather armchair, his ankle crossed over
the opposite knee. He was on his cellphone, laughing at
something. His light blue sweater fit him in a way that
made my already embarrassing and irrational perspiring
worse.

Someone bumped me from behind, muttering an
apology, bringing me back to earth. I took a deep breath
and walked over to him.

“. . . .ove you, too. All right. Bye,” I heard him say as
I started setting down my things. My heart sank and I
t
ried to convince myself that he had been talking to one
of his parents while really believing it had been his sup
posedly model-gorgeous girlfriend.

I sat down and opened my laptop. I averted my eyes,
keeping them trained on my computer screen. I had
never felt more awkward in my life. I knew it was only a
matter of time before I made a giant fool of myself.

“Hey,” John said.

I made the mistake of looking up. Right into those gorgeous green eyes. And that perfect smile. He looked
like one of those guys on a poster in the window of a
clothing store. Of course his girlfriend looked like a
model. What was wrong with me? I had to get it together
so John wouldn’t think I was some weirdo stalker groupie
girl. Evidence. Right. That’s what I was there for. That’s all I was there for. I had to get my mind right.

“Hi,” I said, but no sound came out.
C’mon!
I cleared
my throat and tried again. “Hi, John.” I concentrated on
the moose logo on his sweater so that I wouldn’t have to
look at his distracting, heart-stopping face.

“I forgot my Evidence book. I thought I had it in my
trunk, but realized I didn’t once I got here. I guess I left it
in my locker. I hope you don’t mind sharing,” John said.

I had to force myself to focus on his words and not on his . . . the rest of him. “Not at all.” I held out my
Evidence book, willing my arm not to shake. He took it
and his fingers brushed the tips of mine. Okay, so now I
really
had to pee.

He moved his chair closer to mine. He smelled so
good. Like one of those men’s colognes I sniffed wistfully
a
t the department store sometimes, wishing I had
someone to smell. I jumped up, grabbing my laptop at
the last moment before it fell off of my lap. How had I
forgotten it was there?

“You okay?” John asked, poised as if he’d been about
to grab my laptop, too.

I nodded. “I’ll be right back,” I said weakly, setting
my laptop down in the chair I had occupied a moment
before. I hurried toward the restrooms before John had a
chance to respond.

I felt a lot better when I came out of the stall. I
washed my hands and dried them, happy that there were
paper towels. Hand driers annoyed me. I had never come
across one that actually dried my hands. I wet a second paper towel and held it to my forehead. I wished I had
deodorant in my purse. I usually kept some in there for
after the gym since I didn’t want it to sit in my gym bag in the car all day. It was my kind of luck that I had taken
it out at some point between my last gym trip and
heading over to meet John.