Love Out of Order (Indigo Love Spectrum) (8 page)

He leaned forward in his seat. “You ever feel trapped?
Like no matter what you do, it’s gonna be wrong? You’re
gonna make the wrong decision either way and disap
point a lot of people?”

“I dunno.” John’s proximity was disorienting. I could
have reached out and brushed my fingertips along his
cheek by moving only my arm. I could barely concentrate on what he said.

“You’ve never been afraid to go after what you want,
I bet.” John sat back in his seat.

“At the end of the day, you have to live with the deci
sions you make. No one else can live your life for you. So
I guess it’s good to try to go for what you really want,” I
said, parroting—well, paraphrasing anyway—words to
him that my mother had put in my ears for years. I didn’t
believe them at the time, but they seemed to fit with the
rambling path John had set our conversation on.

“I’m glad I have you to talk to. You’re a good friend.”

John put his arms around me without warning and I
froze. I was barely aware he was hugging me and it didn’t
fully sink in until he’d already pulled back. I shrugged out
of his jacket, no longer needing it to keep warm. Instead, I wished I could shed more layers. I handed it to him and
he tossed it in the back.

“I guess we should get going.” John pulled out of the
parking lot without waiting for a response from me.

All I could think of on the way home was how I
wanted to be back in John’s arms. That and how much
trouble that desire could create.

HOW BIZARRE

After the hay ride, I seemed to have a dirty dream
about John every other night. Something strange hap
pened the night of the hay ride. We didn’t mention any
thing about whatever it was, but neither of us minded
when the other would find excuses to break study dates.
And the hay ride was the beginning and end of our
attempts to be see each other outside of studying.

The SBA, or Student Bar Association, and the Elder
Law Society decided to co-sponsor a karaoke competi
tion in November. It was the last big event of the
semester before everyone went into hiding to prep for
finals. By the Saturday night of the competition, John
and I barely saw each other outside of class.

Suse and I had to go. We were signed up to be judges.
As SBA officers, I guess there was no real way around it
for us. But it wasn’t for lack of trying on my part. I just wanted to work on my student note for law review and
sleep—which would have probably turned into just
sleeping—but Suse wouldn’t let me back out of it. Astoria
was out of town so I didn’t even have her to bail me out.
Astoria was at a weekend retreat. That turned out to be a
good thing.

I
picked up my phone, and ignored the urge to send
the call to voice mail. “Suse, I’m getting in the shower right
now,” I said, lying on my bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“We’re not going to be late,” Suse said. “If you have
to go funky, it’ll be your own fault, but I will be there in
thirty minutes and I’ll drag you out if I have to.”

“Yeah, yeah. In the shower. Can’t you hear the water
running?”

“Thirty minutes, Denise.”

“Bye, Suse,” I said.

She reminded me that I needed to get moving a third
time before telling me she’d see me soon. I tossed my
phone onto the nightstand by my bed and rolled to a sit
ting position. I stared at the large mountain of dirty
clothes in the corner that comprised most of my
wardrobe. I always put off doing my laundry way longer
than I should, and I hoped there was still something
clean to wear. Although, by the looks of that pile, there
couldn’t be anything left clean I would want to wear.

“Oh, well. It’s not like I have anybody to impress,” I
muttered to myself, standing and stretching. “The only
person I want to impress has a girlfriend.” Wait, I
couldn’t think like that. Those stupid dreams were con
fusing me. Hm. Those stupid dreams . . . thirty minutes
was enough time for a nap. Did I really need a shower?

“What is wrong with me? There’s no chance. I don’t even want there to be a chance.” And with that, I slid out
of my track pants, grabbed a towel, and headed to my
bathroom. Without separate bathrooms, I think I would
have killed Tia the day after we moved in.

* * *

The karaoke was a fundraising event co-sponsored by
SBA and the Elder Law Society. It was held in a smoky
bar downtown that we had a good relationship with
thanks to many successful bar reviews there. That bar had
made a lot of money off of serving our law students
watered-down drinks over the years. I walked in, hair
pulled back in a loose bun. I wore faded jeans that didn’t
fit right; I should have thrown them away, but it was
good I hadn’t since they were my only clean ones—you
know, that pair. And a wrinkled Central Virginia
University long-sleeved T-shirt.

Suse, as always, was the primped Southern belle. Her
short, silky blonde hair lay perfectly in place. She wore a
blue silk wrap dress with black pumps. And cheating,
lying Charles had yet another excuse about why he
couldn’t come to Suse. Instead, she was going to him
right after the show.

Suse and I sat next to the other three judges—mem
bers of the Elder Law Society. We all said hello to each
other and they passed us pads of paper and then we
started talking about our classmates who were competing.

The girl Astoria, Suse, and I called Volleyball because of her height and her undergrad athletic scholarship said, “I can’t wait to see John. He’s so funny. I bet his act is
going to be a riot.”

“Archer?” I said, my voice a few octaves higher than
normal.

Everyone turned to look at me.

T
hen, Volleyball’s blonde friend nodded. “Yeah. He
just signed up a few days ago.”

“Should be interesting.” Suse threw me a scrutinizing
look when she said the word “interesting”.

“So you guys start writing your papers yet?” I said to
Volleyball and the blonde. We were taking a short course
together that had ended the day before. Luckily, conver
sation turned to that.

Some of the acts were boring, some funny, some sad,
and one almost good. I felt sorry for the DJ, who looked
miserable. He kept glaring at the owner, and I was pretty
sure he’d been tricked into manning the karaoke machine
that night.

John was the last contestant. He walked out on stage
in some eighties-inspired get-up, complete with the
awful, plastic Ray-Ban knock-off sunglasses, frames in
neon green. So many bright colors. I couldn’t imagine
finding those pants, even at a consignment shop, without
the aid of a time machine. Suse and I looked at each
other and broke the tension between us with a laugh.

He perched the glasses on top of his head, and intro
duced himself to the crowd in a way that earned him
waves of laughter. Then, the DJ started the song “Bizarre
Love Triangle” by New Order. During the opening bars,
he did this odd shuffling dance that was somehow very
eighties reminiscent. Then, he started singing. Wild, loud and purposefully off-key as he bounced from one side of
the stage to the other, somehow managing to keep the
beat despite his manic moves.

I
laughed, caught up in the momentum of watching him. So much so that I didn’t notice everyone watching
me. I realized at that moment how much I’d missed
seeing him almost every day. Just seeing him in class wasn’t nearly enough. I got lost in the memory of his
arms around me.

I sat up straighter in my chair, wondering if I was
imagining things. It seemed that every time John reached
the chorus, he looked into my eyes, singing directly to
me. I sat on the edge of my chair, my pencil clutched in
my fist, trying to determine whether or not he was
singing to me.

Then, for the last refrain, he came down from the makeshift “stage” area and sat sideways on the judge’s
table, facing me. There was no mistaking his eyes holding
mine then. I put my hands under the table, afraid I
would try to drag him across the table otherwise. He then went to the other judges, singing it to them, turning to a
different one for each line, although the song had neared
the end and was purely instrumental by that point.

After the winner was announced—John by a land
slide—Suse and I headed out with Volleyball and her
blonde friend. We stood in the parking lot, talking about
the contest. It had been one of those freakishly warm
days we sometimes get in early November and so the night wasn’t all that bad. A slight chill hung on the air, but that was it.

I heard John calling my name and I froze to the spot. Looking up, I saw him jogging toward us. I watched him
approach and so I couldn’t catch the others’ reactions.

“Some people are coming over to my house. You should come with,” John said.

I was stupefied by the invitation. John had never
invited me to his house. He hadn’t invited me anywhere
since the awkward hug and the hayride and all that.

Suse put her hand on my arm, breaking me out of the
trance. “Denise, can you come with me for a minute?”
She looked at John. “We’ll just be gone a second.”

“I’ll be right back,” I said in a voice so faint I wasn’t
sure if he heard it or not.

When we were out of earshot of John, she said,
“Denise, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Walking to your car.”

“I’m serious, Denise. People are talking. They have
been ever since y’all started spending all that time
together earlier this semester. And after what just hap
pened? You should have seen the look Volleyball and her
friend gave each other back there.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t look good. Him singing to you.
That song? And now you going to his house? You should
think seriously about coming home with me.”

“What are you trying to say? I’m not doing anything. Like I could break up their relationship if I wanted to.
Haven’t you heard about Sasha?”

“Denise, it just doesn’t look good.”

“Suse, can you pop the trunk so I can get my stuff?”
I knew I shouldn’t have been getting angry with Suse, but
she was getting too close to something I didn’t even want
to admit to myself.

“
Think about it, Denise. Be smart. No, he’s not going
to leave Sasha. But that doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt.”
Suse popped the trunk.

I grabbed my tote and threw it over the shoulder,
already holding my purse. “He’s not Charles and I’m not
skank of the week.” As soon as I said the words, I felt
sorry for saying them. Suse’s eyes dropped to the side and
her shoulders sagged. “Suse, that was wrong. I’m sorry.” I
reached out toward her and she pulled back.

“No, it’s fine. Go ahead. You might miss your ride,”
Suse said. She stomped around to the driver’s side, got in
and drove off without letting me say another word.

I walked back over to John, still feeling badly about
what I’d said. She’d only been trying to help and my not
wanting to hear it, because she was right, was no excuse for saying something so ugly.

John and I started in the direction of his car. “What
was that about?” he asked, taking my tote from my
shoulder. I started to feel better right away.

“Nothing,” I said.