Indigo (15 page)

“All right. Thank you. And I really appreciate you doing this for me. I owe you one.”

I can’t help it. Tons of dirty thoughts run through my mind at her words, and I thank god she’ll never know what’s going on inside my head.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I say, after getting my thoughts in control. “I’m glad I can help you. If we’re going to be friends, I want to be able to make you feel completely safe.” Ha. To say the freaking least. I want to be the reason she feels safe.

“Thank you for trying, this will help.”

I want to question her words, just like I always want to question everything, but for some reason, it still doesn’t feel like the right time. There just seems to be a wall around her that I’ve yet to get through. And I want stop until it’s completely down, or she makes me a small door. I’ve seen glimpses of another girl insider there, and I want to get to know both.

Once we reach her dorm, I park my car in what I hope is a visitor’s space and we both get out. I walk around to and open my trunk to grab my measuring tape from tool bag, which is always in my car.

She gives me a wry smile and leads me inside.

INDIGO

If he thinks it’s crazy that I still want my window blocked even while on the third floor, he doesn’t say anything and for that, I’m grateful. I already was horribly embarrassed about the whole thing to begin with, but if I’m making new friends, the truth might as well come out now. On my own terms. He hasn’t been at all judgmental, and why a guy like this would want to spend his day helping me indulge my paranoia boggles the mind.

“It must be really nice to have your own room.”

“You don’t like living with Shawn?” He and his cousin seem attached at the hip.

“It’s definitely better than living with a stranger, but he’s kind of messy, and I’m an only child so I’m used to having my own space.”

I open up the door to the third floor. “I’m an only child, too.”

He turns to me and we smile at each other. “See, we were meant to be friends,” I say.

He doesn’t respond, just runs a hand through his hair as I lead him down toward the end of the hall where my room is. Realizing he’s about to see how crazy I
really
am, I feel like I should give him a warning. Once we reach my door, I turn around and stare up at him. My god he’s handsome. And my god does he make my insides twist. His face seems chiseled from stone, but his eyes gentle as he waits to hear what I have to say.

I want to give him an excuse for all my erratic behavior. “As I’m sure you know, I was kidnapped about two and a half years ago.” I inwardly cringe. Well, that was smooth. The words burst out, and I can’t believe I just let it spill like that with no warning.

He freezes, and the gentle stare disappears. He imperceptibly moves in closer. “Yes, I know.”

“I’m not crazy or anything, but I am paranoid.“ I try to explain. “If we’re going to be friends I might as well tell you now that I have more than one lock on my door, and every time I go inside, I have to search the entire room to make sure no ones in there.”

I
really
don’t want him to judge me, or think I’m a basket case. I’m starting to really enjoy his company, and wouldn’t want to lose it because of my crazy rituals. He’s still staring down at me with those handsome and expressive brown eyes, making me feel a little lightheaded.

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I’ll even help you look.”

He’s standing really close to me, and I instinctively back up against the door. It seems as if he follows me, but I can’t tell, because I’m distracted by how good the warmth from the closeness of his body is making me feel and how good he smells. I’m still staring up at him, so I see the moment when his eyes fall to my lips, and the thought that he’d ever kiss me pumps a rush of adrenaline into my system, and the warm feeling in the bottom of stomach returns. But the warm feeling quickly turns hot as I remember myself, and who I am.

Without warning, I abruptly turn around and fumble for my keys. Why would someone that looks like him, ever want to kiss someone who looks like me? Feeling completely out of my element, I try to take deep breaths and relax.

The door opens, and after holding it open for him, I go into the bathroom, just so he won’t check there and also see my towel. When I come back out, I see him shutting the closet door.

“All clear.”

“Did you check under the bed?”

Before he can answer, I go over, bending down to peer underneath, feeling like a fool. I do feel a little better with him here, but now just completely embarrassed. When I get back to my feet, I see him staring at me, standing in the middle of the floor. He doesn’t seem to be looking anywhere else, and I guess he is probably feeling a little awkward in my room.

“Sorry,” I say without thinking. “I’m done now.”

He is still staring at me, and I find it endearing that he’s shy about being in my personal space. He’s probably trying to put me at ease and I feel my heart thump.

“Are you okay? Do you feel weird in here?” I try not to laugh, as he doesn’t take his eyes off of mine. 

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

I sit on my bed, folding my legs up in front of me. I’m very comfortable, and even though this is the first time I’ve ever had a guy in my room, I don’t feel anxiety. There’s something about Kennedy that puts me at ease. He seems so sweet and gentle, and eager to make me feel safe. I decide to be honest, since he’s been so thoughtful towards me.

“I’ve never had a guy in my room before and I thought it would make me nervous, but not with you. You seem safe.”

For some reason, my compliment doesn’t seem to please him, and his eyes flash. “That’s great,” is his only response.

I’m completely confused, because I know sarcasm when I hear it. But before I can question him on it, he turns around and walks toward the window, pulling out the measuring tape.

He takes a few measurements in silence, and then records them in his phone. There’s a tension in his shoulders, and I finally decide to just ask him what part of what I said made him so upset. I’d hope for honesty, just like I was honest back in the Home Depot parking lot about what upset me.

“What did I say?” I ask, watching him put the tape in his back pocket. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

He sighs. “It is I’m sorry.” I’m glad he didn’t pretend to ignore my question, but his answer baffles me. “No one has ever said that about me before.”

I can’t help it, I laugh. “You don’t want me to think you’re safe?”

“No, I do...” He rubs his hands through his hair. I can tell he has more to say, but when the silence continues, I get off the bed to stand in front of him.

“What is it?” I ask.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looks down at me. “I just don’t want you putting me into any categories so soon. Of course I want you to trust me and feel safe…but not so comfortable that... I don’t know what I’m saying. Never mind.”

I’m not exactly sure what he’s getting at. “No, tell me. What do you mean?”

Rubbing the back of his head, his eyes meet mine and the intensity in them makes my breath catch. “I just want to make you feel a little bit more than just safe.”

We stare at each other for a second as his words sink in. “I’d like to spend more time with you,” he tells me suddenly, surprising me again with his honesty. “I mean, outside the project for the window. Would that be okay?”

I feel the energy in the room turn a corner that I don’t think I’m ready for. “Yes, but…”

This time it’s him who asks, “What is it?”

“I’d like to spend more time with you, but I don’t want you to expect anything of me. I’m not like a normal college girl…and I can’t be like other girls probably would with you….”

“How about this,” he interrupts me, “No expectations on either end. We hang out, get to know each other, and that’s it.”

It doesn’t take me long to nod because it’s what I want. “Okay, I’d like that.”

He grins and I watch his eyes roam over my face as he always does. It hits me then that I haven’t thought about my scar all afternoon. I wonder how it’s possible I can forget around him of all people.

“I’ll be done with your plywood by tomorrow. Is it okay if I come back and install it then?”

I nod, trying to keep pace with the new flow of energy between us.

KENNEDY

The high-pitched whir of the buzz saw rings in my ears, soothing me. To me, there’s nothing more relaxing than the sound of my tools, the music of a project in the works. Growing up without siblings made for a lot of lonely nights, and sometimes I feel as if these tools are the only things I had to keep my company. Real company anyway. My mom was always too busy to spend any long periods of time with me, so I’m pretty sure she bought me all this stuff to make her feel a little less guilty.

Grabbing a drill bit, Indigo’s face comes to mind, as it has since the moment I saw her. I can’t tell if I should be happy with the way things ended earlier today, or not. The good thing is that she agreed to spend more time me. It’s clear that she enjoys my company, and it’s amazing that she feels safe with me. Even I have to admit that it’s a great start. But how to bring it to the next level without scaring her off? One thing I do know is that I have zero interest in being just friends. I’m walking a fine line, and it’s getting harder and harder not to touch her, kiss her, tell her exactly how she makes me feel.

I know it’s not going to be easy to break down her walls, especially with her past, and even more with me becoming extremely impatient to ask anything I can about her. I think back on how she acted when we first got to her dorm room, and her shyly admitting her rituals to me, like I’d judge her. There’s so much I don’t know about her. Maybe the way through is to just start taking chances and asking bigger questions. Finally let myself confront her with what I want to know. That’s how people become closer, right?

Feeling a bit more settled on the situation now that I have a plan, I once again lose myself in the sounds of my work, until I hear that garage door opening from behind me.

Straightening, I watch as the door reveals my mother as it climbs up slowly. She has her arms crossed, so I can tell she is in one of her impatient moods. I definitely get that from her.

“Kennedy,” she says by way of greeting. “What are you doing here?”

I don’t bother to hide Indigo’s project, knowing she would never ask what it is anyway. “It’s Sunday, you know I like to spend it working.”

“Yes, how could I forget?”

She drops a quick kiss on my cheek before heading towards the door that leads into the house. My mother has always taken a few hours off on Sundays from work, to just be alone. It probably hasn’t ever crossed her mind to spend her only available hours with me.

“Mom,” I call out, lowering the plywood in my hands back down to the table. “We need to talk.”

She tenses, and I know she knows I want to discuss my major, and her high handedness in declaring it for me behind my back. Turning to face me, she clasps her hands in front of her.

“Now, honey? You know I like to get away from it all Sundays.”

“Even your son?” I can’t help the vulnerable words once they’re out of my mouth, but I immediately wish I could take them back.

She sighs loudly, “Of course not. What’s on your mind?”

“You know this is about my major, mom. I told you I was still undecided and you went behind my back. You had no right to do that.”

She glances up at me, and begins to rub her temples as if she has a headache forming. “Kennedy, I’m just trying to do what’s best for you. You’re running out of time to decide, and I’m worried. Can you understand that?”

“You said you would give me until the end of the semester to make my decision, and you barely let a week go by before interfering.”

“I couldn’t help myself, I’m sorry.”

My fists clench in anger. Such a typical excuse for her. “I’m going down to the office and declaring myself undecided again.”

Her hands drop to her sides and she looks at me incredulously. “You can’t do that! What would people think?”

“I really don’t care what people would think, mom.”

“Honey, listen. How about this, you keep your major as law for now, and if at the end of the semester, you want to change it, go right ahead. I won’t say a word. People will think I’m ridiculous if you change it now.”

I roll my eyes. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I think, just everyone else.”

“Kennedy I know you’re upset with me, and a part of me does get that. But what has gotten into you lately? You seem to always be on edge.”

I’ve never lashed out at my mother in any way, and truth be told, I don’t know what has gotten into me. Maybe it’s me finally taking charge of what I want, but either way I don’t want to back down anymore. A lot of things seem to be changing for me this semester.

“Fine. I’ll wait until the end of the semester, but you’re going to have to accept the fact that art is my passion, and it’s what I want to do.”

“We’ll deal with that when the times,” she tells me. I know what she’s thinking. She’s happy because my major will remain unchanged, and she has a full three months to convince me to keep it. She won again, and I can only hope I can go through with doing what I really want to do when the time comes.