Indigo (39 page)

With her nipples inches from my mouth, her crotch pressed and moving against mine, and her hair falling over on to my arms, control slips from grasp. When I look into her eyes, seeing how turned on she is, I lose it.

My hands let go of the chair and lock around her body, her skin so soft and smooth it makes me tremble.

My erection is pulsing uncomfortably against my jeans, and I clench my teeth before crashing my lips against hers.

Our kiss is absolutely frantic, matching the sheer adrenaline rushing through my veins. My tongue forcefully invades her mouth, and hers meets mine stroke for stroke as we claw at each other helplessly. I wince in pain, my cock straining to get out and rub against her more closely.

Without thinking, I rip my lips from hers and start dropping desperate kisses against her jaw line, and then her neck. I run my hands down her back as I drop my head and capture her nipple between my lips.

She gasps, her head thrown back as I lave my tongue down to the underside of breast. I can’t stay in one spot to long. I want it all. Her hands coast through my hair, pressing my head closer to her body. “More,” she gasps. “Please…”

I throw caution to the wind, and run my hand down her tight stomach and into her panties. My fingers reverent as they trace over her soft mound, before moving slowly to the hot wetness beneath.

“Indigo,” I start chanting, out of my mind at how good she feels.

She starts moving her hips again, signaling to me that she wants my fingers inside.

I’m just about to slip the first one in when there’s a loud, intrusive knock at the door.

Moving slowly, we move back to stare at each other, both of us shaking.

I’m about to tell her to just ignore it, but a shadow moves into her eyes, and I realize for her, if there’s someone knocking on her door, she won’t feel okay until she knows who it is.

“I’ll get it,” I tell her, closing my eyes, trying to catch my breath. “You go into the bathroom.”

She nods and then scurries off my lap. I nearly reach out and grab her back for one more taste, but I take the extra two seconds to try and calm my racing heart. Getting up out of the chair, I move towards the door, too annoyed to even look through the peephole at who it is.

When I open it to reveal who’s standing on the other side, it’s as if someone throws a pool of ice water in my face.

“Mom?”

INDIGO

My heart is going full speed, and I can’t shake the silly grin off my face. As I slip on my bathrobe, I can’t help but think about what a success my surprise dance was. Not just for Kennedy, but for me. Everything we were doing, I could handle it. It was okay, and the victory in that gives me so much hope for the future.

Tying the robe, I hear a couple voices outside. My first thought is to assume the worst, but in all likelihood it’s probably just Sabrina paying me an impromptu visit.

But when I open the door to see that it’s none other than Dean Lincoln, I stand frozen in the bathroom doorway. For a couple seconds, the three of us just stare at each other. Kennedy’s face looks ashen, stricken, and his eyes are locked on mine.

He obviously thinks I’m going to freak out, and I decide to try and put him at ease the best way I can. “Hello Ellen. What can I do for you?”

It’s then that I notice that she herself looks pale, and she’s not looking at me, she’s looking at Kennedy. She doesn’t answer my question, but directs hers at him. “Kennedy, what are you doing here?”

It’s as if he doesn’t hear her, he keeps his eyes on me. “Indigo, there’s something I have to tell you…” His voice sounds rough, like his chest is being squeezed and he can’t get the words out.

It’s then that the Dean turns to me, and I can’t help but notice the once-over she gives me. I wrap my arms around my middle, feeling self-conscious in my robe. “What’s going on in here?” She asks. Her face is turning red. What the hell is her problem?

“To be honest, that’s none of your business.” I try to say it respectfully, but her facial expression is making it hard. Why is she so angry, I’m allowed to have male company--whoever I want--up here?

“It is my business when it has to do with my son!”

She nearly shouted the words, so I heard her, but it takes a moment for what she said to actually sink in.

Her son?

Kennedy is her son? No.

I stare blankly ahead, as the implications of her words wash over me. I turn to him, not believing it. No way. When he looks down, his eyes closing as if in agony, I have to assume it must be true. And then it hits me full force, and it feels like someone sucked all the air out of my body at once and dropped a ton of bricks on my head. The Dean is his mother. My mind is racing, but without any air, speaking is difficult. “That’s your mother?”

“You didn’t tell her?” The Dean says, seeming shocked.

She starts saying something else, but I can’t look away from Kennedy, his eyes shining, guilt and grief in their depths. “I’m so sorry,” he starts to say, but he shakes his head, almost knowing that that’s not good enough.

“What’s going on here?” The Dean demands. “Kennedy, answer me this minute. What are you doing with Indigo?”

“Mom, this is my girlfriend.” he says shakily. I can hear the note of steel in his tone.

I shake my head, feeling so betrayed I can barely stand. “No.”

Kennedy’s eyes flash with sadness, and he tries to move towards me, but I back away into the bathroom and slam the door in both of their faces. How could he? He was lying to me the whole time, while I was fighting to tell him the truth. I sit on the toilet, burying my head in my hands, listening to Kennedy and his MOM argue back and forth outside the door. I don’t think I have ever been so absolutely dumbstruck in my life.

The pounding starts a moment later, but I feel too heavy to get up so I don’t respond.

“Indigo, please open the door.”

It’s the Dean. She sounds like an army commander, but it does little to jolt me out of my shock. The pounding persists. “I sent Kennedy back to his room for the moment. Please open the door. There is something important I’d like to discuss with you. It’s about the upcoming hearing.”

That gets my attention. Pulling myself out of my stupor, I fling the door open, not caring if I’m rude. Seeing her up close now, I can’t believe I didn’t see the resemblance. Their eyes, their hair color. It’s all the same. “For now, let’s put this business with Kennedy aside.”

I close my eyes, another wave of shock washing over me as I think of all the things I’ve said about the woman standing in front of me. To her son! I wince and look down, unable to meet her eyes.

“As you know, the media got wind that you were going to speak at the Parole hearing.”

I nod. Knowing that once the police found out, it was only a matter of time before everyone else did.

I look back up to see the Dean looking a little uncomfortable. She’s studying me now, as if seeing me with new eyes. “We’ve been fielding phone calls left and right, as it was also discovered that you are enrolled here.” Her eyes sparkle with a small twinge of guilt, but it’s quickly squashed. It’s probably not all her fault anyway. Yes the newspaper probably didn’t help, but people have a way of finding things out. 

“I’m not doing any interviews,” I say quietly.

To my surprise, she nods. “I figured you’d say as much. You have my word that no media company, newspaper, or whatever, will be allowed on this campus. I don’t want you afraid to go outside for fear of getting your photo taken.”

“That already happened,” I can’t help but say to her.

She sighs, and runs her tongue over her teeth. “It won’t happen again. I wanted to come over and personally tell you that.”

I figure that’s the closest I’ll ever get to an apology. I don’t answer, hoping she’ll just take the hint and leave. But she doesn’t, and when I look up, her eyes are on my scar. “Good luck, at the hearing,” she tells me. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go speak to my son.”

I watch her leave, so well put together, as if she didn’t just walk in on her son obviously messing around with the campus mental case. That’s what I am, and that’s what I feel like. I turn to go flop down on my bed, when a pounding starts up again on the door.

“Indigo, it’s me. Please open the door, I want to talk to you!”

Kennedy. The thought of looking into his face makes me feel sick. I stay quiet, trying to drown out the incessant banging, but he won’t quit.

“Go away!” I finally shout.

“I’m not going away,” he answers back. One more loud pound on the door. “Please, baby, let me explain…”

His words set fire to temper. “Explain! What possible reason can you give me that you didn’t tell me who your mother was?!” I think of all the times she came up during conversations between us. “God Kennedy! All those things I said about her to you! I’m humiliated!”

“It’s my fault,” he cuts in, another pound on the door. “I was too scared after everything that happened between the two of you.” I don’t answer. “Please! I don’t want to talk to you through a locked door!”

I’m so angry, I feel like I want to scream. “You’ve lied to me for WEEKS!! You made me think I could trust you!!”

“You can trust me!” He yells. “You know you can. You know me! Please Indigo, I’ve waited so long to finally have you. I’ve tried so hard!”

His words hit me in the gut. “I’VE TRIED SO HARD! Do you know how HARD it was to even hold your hand at first!? Do you know how HARD it was to talk to you about the night I was taken?! Do you know how hard it was to bring you home to meet my mom!? Don’t talk to me about trying hard! It’s been all too easy for you to lie to my face!”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but I swear I can hear his heavy breathing through the door. I walk up to it, putting my hand against the wood.

“I was scared,” I hear him whisper.

“Don’t talk to me about scared either,” I whisper back.

And then I click all of my locks into place, one by one.

KENNEDY

Three weeks later.

5:00 hits, and I start packing up my things.

It’s my third week interning at Frank & Bowes, and just like class, I can’t wait to get out the door. I took this internship to possibly get some legal advice about Indigo’s case, possibly find out if there is anything I can do to help, but not only have both Frank and Bowes been away since I started, Indigo isn’t talking to me.

The thought of her sends a shiver of sadness into my stomach, and I sigh heavily as I sling my bag over my shoulder. One day at a time, that’s what I keep telling myself. But a part of me thinks that she’s never going to forgive me. That my lie has damaged everything that we had tenuously built between us.

The first week I tried begging, groveling. I would text her all day, and then try and corner her on her way out of classes or at her dorm. She was colder than ice, either pretending I didn’t exist, or literally running away from me. When she did that, I decided to stop acting like a stalker and woo her in from the outside. Three times I’ve sent her flowers, twice two long handwritten notes, and once a bouquet of fruit, which is apparently a thing.  At the beginning of the third week, I got a text from Sabrina reading:

You’re making everything worse.

After that, five days ago to be exact, I have been keeping my distance. It’s killing me, and the thought that I had everything in the palm of my hand only to squander it away because I was a coward, makes me feel nauseous.

“Kennedy.” I turn back around and see a large domineering man in an impeccable three piece suit. His hands are in his pockets, and his face is stern as he regards me from outside of his office. “May I have a word?”