Love Out of Order (Indigo Love Spectrum) Read online

  Love Out of Order

  Nicole Green

  Genesis Press, Inc.

  INDIGO LOVE SPECTRUM

  An imprint of Genesis Press, Inc.

  Publishing Company

  Genesis Press, Inc.

  P.O. Box 101

  Columbus, MS 39703

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, not known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission of the publisher, Genesis Press, Inc. For information write Genesis Press, Inc., P.O. Box 101, Columbus, MS 39703.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.

  Copyright © 2009 Nicole Green

  ISBN-13: 978-1-58571-502-2

  ISBN-10: 1-58571-502-6

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Visit us at www.genesis-press.com

  or call at 1-888-Indigo-1-4-0

  DEDICATION

  To my mother, Diane, for her encouragement and support. Without her, this book may have never gotten written.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First of all, I would like to thank Deborah Schumaker, the dream-come-true executive editor at Genesis Press, for taking a chance on this book and guiding me through the publishing process. I would also like to thank my other editor, Mavis Allen, for her hard work in helping to make this book stronger. I also have to thank the amazing members of my critique group who have helped me become a better writer and who constantly help with my crazy requests for advice and feedback. Internet Writers Workshop folks, you who you are, and I hope you know how much I appreciate you. And a special thanks to those who rode the crazy terrain with me this past summer— Carol, Amanda, Judy, Lauren, Karyn, and Pepper. And most of all, thanks to the people who’ve made it possible for me to believe in my writing over the years—God, my mother, my cousin Lori, my sister Ashley, and my amazing English teachers and professors.

  Chapter 1

  DOWNHILL SLALOM

  Wal-Mart on Saturdays. It is something I try to avoid at all costs, but sometimes it’s a necessary evil. I plotted my way down the aisles, darting around the many obstacles in my white sneakers. I wanted to spend as little time in that place as I possibly could. Plus, I was genuinely in a hurry. Another good reason to avoid Wal-Mart on Saturdays.

  I was on a mission. Astoria Banks is not the kind of person you keep waiting. Have you ever had a good friend you really love, but who scares you sometimes? Well, that’s how I feel about Astoria Banks. Her beauty, lack of inhibition and ability to captivate even the people who disliked her were imposing. I remember when she first cut her hair short and texturized it. When I told her I wished my head wasn’t so big so that I could do something like that, she laughed at me and told me to do it if I wanted to. Astoria wore her personality on the outside. I was in awe of her.

  Anyway, as I headed through the store in some sort of impossible, frantic, downhill slalom, I was of course derailed. I know, inevitable, right? “Excuse me,” I muttered to a woman blocking my path with her cart, chatting to her friend while her kids ran in circles around them screaming. “Excuse me,” I said a little louder as I looked for any hole through which I might be able to maneuver my cart. “Excuse me.” That last one had a little more force in it. I no longer cared about being rude.

  Then, when I pushed past her, she had the nerve to give me a dirty look.

  “You should have moved out of my way one of the first forty-five times I asked you to,” I muttered as I charged down the aisle, racking my brain for the solution to my problem.

  I never knew what to get Astoria. She was so picky. Yet, she never wanted to tell anyone what she wanted. Whenever I asked what she wanted as a gift, she would ask me what the point was. She would say that if she told me what to get, she might as well buy the thing herself.

  “Crap,” I muttered, pulling my ringing cellphone out of my purse. I had forgotten that I was supposed to meet Suse at her house before going to the restaurant until the moment I saw her number displayed on my caller ID. I put the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

  “Denise, where are you? It’s five. You said you’d be here by four-thirty,” Suse said with a sigh. Suse was big into punctuality. Me, not so much.

  “Wal-Mart. I kind of forgot all about Astoria’s present,” I said, grabbing a packet of stationery from a shelf and wincing at how lame a gift that would probably be. I had never even seen Astoria use stationery. Maybe because she didn’t have any to use? Nah. Probably not.

  “Denise! Where has your mind been lately?” Suse asked. I could almost see her small nose scrunched the way it always was when she was frustrated.

  I got to know Suse through trial team try-outs during my first year. Suse is from a small town in southwest Virginia, and it shows from her accent to her mannerisms to her strange obsession with four-wheelers. She has quite a range of interests, though. She and my friend Melissa are in the same sorority. She is petite, has short, blonde hair, brown eyes and a pudgy face with a pug-like nose.

  “Uhm. Lot going on. Interviews. Journal. Trial team. And on and on and it never ends,” I said as I grabbed a gift set containing scented body gels and lotions. That and stationery? Was that good enough? Eh, it would have to be. Plus, Astoria knew how horrible I was at giving gifts. She should have stopped trusting me to surprise her by now. So it really was her fault.

  “Okay, well, are you still coming over here first?”

  “Sure thing. I’m headed to the checkout line now. Which means I should be out of here by sometime tomorrow.”

  “Good. Try to get here soon. We need time to decorate before Astoria gets there.”

  “Yep,” I answered before flipping my phone shut and stuffing it back into my laptop bag. I had come to the store straight from the library and hadn’t had time to switch to my normal purse.

  I looked up with a glimmer of hope as the number for one of the express check out lines lit up—number three. I gripped the handle on my shopping cart, focused on the end goal. The illuminated number three. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a middle-aged couple and a mother and her two bad kids headed toward number three, attempting to steal my glory. I couldn’t let that happen. Victory had to be mine. These glory stealers clearly did not know Astoria Banks.

  I charged forward, slipping past both sets of startled shoppers. I mumbled an apology when the woman of the middle-aged couple gave me a look of consternation and her hand fluttered to her heart. I skidded to a halt before the cashier. Her dark brown eyes grew wide in her burnt almond face, but she didn’t say anything. She just started ringing up my items. I was actually out of breath. Luckily, I was too frazzled to be embarrassed.

  Finally, I walked out of Wal-Mart, relieved and victorious with my crappy present for my best friend swinging at my side in a white plastic bag. I shielded my eyes from the late afternoon sun’s rays and looked around the general vicinity of the rows of cars where mine should be.

  Spotting it, I walked over to my car. My whip. My ride. My . . . well, at least it had four wheels and a motor. Yeah, with a rusted-out tail pipe, a busted rear door, paint missing in large patches over the trunk, the roof more rust than paint, half a faded Dartmouth sticker left over from a previous owner, and of course my college and law school stickers, my Sentra that had been gray at some point
in its life wasn’t going to win any prizes at the car show. But it got me where I needed to go—most of the time. And the rest of the time, well, the auto club needed someone to keep them in business, right?

  Unfortunately, that evening was not to be one of the times my car wanted to get me where I wanted to go. The traitor left me there in the Wal-Mart parking lot alternating between heated threats and cajoling murmurs in an attempt to get my engine to turn over. Stupid Dad just had to be right about replacing the battery. Well, I just hadn’t had time. But sitting in that parking lot, I was wasting plenty of time trying fruitlessly to get the car to do something I knew it wasn’t going to do.

  Just as I was about to scream, I heard a voice that made me freeze in mid-curse. “Denise?”

  I didn’t want to look up because I knew I would see John Archer’s face. Sitting there in my stupid jalopy, I would see John Archer standing by the driver’s side door.

  “Denise, are you okay?”

  Okay, maybe more embarrassing not to look up. I slowly turned my head and looked up at John Archer. John, make my palms sweat, make me smile like a moron, make me have a crush for the first time since high school Archer. He stood there in a black T-shirt and khaki shorts, his hands in his pockets.

  Somehow, I managed to find part of my voice. “Hi.” “Car trouble?”

  “I think it’s the battery.”

  “I have jumper cables,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of his black Mercedes Kompressor. “I could give you a jump.”

  Damn. Why, why, why did it have to be him? “Sure. That would be great. I’d really appreciate it,” I blubbered.

  “No problem,” he said, already walking back in the direction of his car.

  I watched him walk back, thinking about the first time I’d seen him—the first day of classes three weeks earlier.

  The first thing I’d noticed about him was his teeth.

  I know it’s weird, but I have this thing about perfect, straight white teeth. He was laughing at some corny joke our Evidence professor had made. Dark hair cut close. Bright green eyes. The kind of guy you look at and look at yourself and say, yeah, like that’s gonna happen. But he caught my eye—probably because I was burning a hole in the side of his head—as his laughter died away and smiled. I gave a half smile, unsure he was looking at me, and turned to my laptop, suddenly fascinated by my screen saver.

  I hadn’t been able to keep him out of my mind since.

  I watched him drive around to the row of cars in front of me. The spot directly in front of me was empty. I had that going for me at least. John walked me through the process while I tried not to be too obvious about appreciating his arms. The sleeves were ripped off his T-shirt and his biceps were giving me quite a staring problem.

  He told me to try to start the car and it started. He gave me a thumbs-up, put the cables away and walked back over to my driver’s-side door.

  “Thank you so much. I know you have way more important things to do than help me start my stupid car,” I gushed. “I owe you big time.”

  “I didn’t mind at all. I went to Virginia Beach for the day with some friends. Just getting back into town. No hurry to get anywhere,” he said, leaning on the driver’s side door. I wanted to be that door. “But you know, there is a favor I’d like to ask.”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, I was wondering if you would mind getting together with me sometime tomorrow,” John said.

  I had no idea how to respond. What could he possibly mean? I knew he couldn’t mean what I wanted him to mean. I was afraid to even ask what he had in mind. Instead, I sat there gaping at him. Not a good look.

  “Wait, that didn’t come out right. If you wouldn’t mind—I mean, I didn’t get that Evidence reading at all last week and class just made it worse . . . and—if you don’t want to it’s fine, but I was thinking maybe we could meet at Barnes and Noble tomorrow or something,” John said, running his words together, grinning the cutest embarrassed grin I had ever seen. He was bright red and adorable.

  I realized I was still staring at him and making an already uncomfortable situation even worse. He looked like he wanted to run away.

  “Sure,” I said with an awkward smile.

  “Great. Uh . . . four good?” he asked.

  I nodded. I didn’t want to ruin the moment with one of my corny remarks.

  He smiled and then waved to some guys standing near the front entrance to the store. “I gotta go. I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay,” I said weakly. My phone vibrated and I took it out of my bag and ignored Suse’s call. I didn’t have time to reflect on the horror-turned-serendipity moment I’d just had. I’d never make it to Barnes & Noble the next day if Suse and Astoria killed me first.

  I never made it inside of Suse’s parents’ house. She lived with her parents, who had moved to Richmond when she started law school. She was sitting in her car with the engine running when I pulled onto her street. I parked behind her, grabbed my laptop bag, shoulder bag and the shopping bag containing the pitiful present, slammed my door shut and ran to her car.

  “Look at you,” Suse groaned, burying her face in her hands.

  She was right. I was a mess. I still wore navy blue cotton shorts with “Central Virginia Law School” printed on them and a gray T-shirt; my favorite studying outfit. My brown hair was swept up in a messy ponytail. Sweat glistened on my nutmeg brown skin. It was hot out, being mid-September in Virginia, and I’d done a lot of running around in the last hour or so.

  “Suse, it’s going to be okay. Don’t freak,” I said, adding to myself, as you have a tendency to.

  “You’re not even dressed. The reservation is for seven-thirty and we have to decorate and pick up the cake before she gets there. It’s almost six now. And you tell me not to freak?” Suse said, racing down the secondary road that led to the interstate entrance nearest to her house. I cringed as she flung her little Nissan Versa around one curve after another.

  “We can fix it. Don’t panic. I’ll change in the rest-room at the restaurant. We’ll work it out,” I muttered. “Hey, my flight just got in this morning. I just got back from that job interview in New York, remember? It’s been craziness all weekend. I’ve been in overdrive trying to get everything done and still do this birthday thing for her.”

  “Oh, yeah, how did that go?”

  I relaxed in my seat, thankful for the subject change. “Okay. But I’m going to hold out for that downtown firm I have a callback interview with next week.” I had interviewed for a summer associate position with Dettweiler, a firm I’d had my eye on ever since I had done an externship there as an undergrad.

  “Oh, you’ll get it. For sure.”

  “Hope so.”

  “Oh, of course you will, I was just telling . . .” Suse started.

  Satisfied that she was no longer in attack mode, my attention drifted away from her. I knew she was telling me something about her boyfriend, Charles, making her crazy yet again. She’s been with him since high school. They’re practically married. He’s a total jerk, but she thinks she’s in love.

  Really, I guess I should have been happy that Suse was so anxious to do something nice for Astoria. If it hadn’t been for me, Astoria and Suse would not have ever looked at each other. I was truly the middle ground between them. My temper was not as volatile as Astoria’s, but I was not as passive as Suse. I liked to go out and have a good time, but Astoria liked it a little too much and Suse didn’t like to go out nearly enough.

  Even in physical appearance, I was not as extreme as either of them. My brown skin made stark contrasts to their opposite ends of the spectrum. The only thing that they had in common and left me out on was thin. I have been trying to get over my freshman fifteen-plus-a-few since before I even started as an undergrad at the University of Virginia.

  I wouldn’t call myself fat, and most of the time I like the way I look. But it’s hard not having body issues standing next to Suse and Astoria. Astoria especially got o
n my nerves with the way she ate anything she wanted and got away with it. We both went to the gym. She, Suse and I were in a roller derby league. But Astoria ate whatever and whenever she wanted and didn’t gain an inch. Did it work that way for me? Not so much.

  * * *

  Oh, the sacrifices I’ve made for Astoria Banks. I sat in a too-cold restaurant pretending to enjoy sushi and trying to force enthusiasm, which was hard when I was going on a few hours’ sleep and depleted caffeine levels. And especially since my mind kept drifting back to John Archer. Luckily, Astoria didn’t notice too much, since she was wrapped up in conversation with two of her other friends, Erich and Sharon. She and Erich had gone to SUNY together undergrad and both ended up at Central Virginia University’s Brennan School of Law for law school. Sharon was a first-year law student Astoria mentored and had become fast friends with. Brennan was a small school with only a little over three hundred students total. It wasn’t a bad place for law school, though. The school was just outside of Richmond, only a few minutes’ drive from the city limits.

  Suse, who really had nobody there to talk to but me, kept trying to draw me into conversation.

  “. . . .enise? You listening?”

  I looked up, realizing Suse had been trying to get my attention. “Uh . . . sorry. I was just thinking about that um . . . brief we have due,” I said.

  Suse rolled her eyes, nodding. “Yeah. Can you believe it? We just got back. Anyway, you coming to the thing we’re having for the first years Monday night?” Suse was heading up a new mentor program for the first-year students and was constantly planning events for them. I’m sure it annoyed the few that showed up more than it helped them.

  “I can’t. I told Stori that I’d help her pick up some stuff for the fundraiser she’s doing next Friday.” I hadn’t been looking forward to helping Astoria until that moment. Astoria was involved in a community group that she was hosting a fundraiser for at the law school.