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her eyes weren’t just blue, they were almost navy. ‘Indigo...’ his mind whispered. She pulled back, wariness returning.
    “So how do I fix it?”
    Jude turned back to the screen.
    “Go to Media. Select the Media Cache Database, click on
‘delete cache files’ and… done.” Jude smiled, pushing back from the computer,
but she caught his arm before he could leave.
    “Uh-uh. No,” she said. “You’re not going anywhere. I want to
make sure this works.”
    She let go of his arm, clicking on the project and hitting
export. The render screen appeared, and Jude gave a silent prayer that it would
actually work. The movie began to flicker through, the yellow export band
slowly filling. Thirty percent… forty percent… fifty percent… The
project chugged along without issue.
    Jude glanced up to find Indigo watching him. Her expression
was softer now, less guarded.
    “Thanks,” she said with a half-smile. “Feels like the
computer hates me some days.”
    “Computers hate everyone some days,” he laughed.
    She grinned, and he felt himself tumbling forward, the last
of his hesitation trampled under the sudden, desperate need to see her again.
    “I never did get your number that night,” he said.
    Her grin faded uneasily.
    “Yeah, sorry,” she said with a shrug. “My ride showed up. I
meant to tell you but…” She shook her head, looking away from him so that her
face was in profile. “Sorry,” she added, not meeting his eyes. “The truth is, I
ditched.”
    Jude snorted with laughter, and she looked up in surprise.
    “What?”
    “Honesty,” he chuckled. “That… that hurts.”
    She shrugged, a knowing smile curving her lips. Her eyes
narrowed, watching him through a fringe of lashes. This time she was the
cat.
    “It’s better to know the truth, you know,” she warned.
“Otherwise life’s gonna screw you over.”
     “Maybe,” Jude said with a shrug. “But I’ll take my
chances.”
    The tinny sound of the computer’s speakers interrupted and
both Indigo and Jude turned to the monitor where the video scene now played. It
was a series of images of Indigo: laughing on a park bench, arm in arm with the
woman from the bar that night, and sitting on a rooftop, a beer in hand. Jude
fought down the urge to cheer. Most of what he did on the Tech team was
troubleshooting, but when it worked out – like now – it seemed like magic. And today
he wanted her to believe.
    “Thank you,” Indigo said, “for getting that working.” She
flicked her hair off her face the way she had at the bar and Jude fought down
the urge to groan. “Let me know if I can pay you back sometime.”
    He grinned: therewas the magic, right there .
    “I still owe you a drink,” he said. “I’d like to buy it, if
you’d let me.”
    Her expression flickered, cat or mouse, undecided, for half a second longer, and then she smiled.
    “Fine,” Indigo answered, grabbing her purse off the back of
the chair, “but it’s only going to be coffee.”
    : : :
: : : : : : :
    They sat at the counter in the Student Union coffee shop,
their knees bumping together once and then again. Out of the classroom, Indigo
was different, her comebacks quick, her laughter quicker. Jude knew that she
was a sophomore in a four-year design program, but that she intended to finish
it in two.
    “How’re you going to do that?” he asked.
    “By working my ass off,” she quipped. “Same as anyone else.”
    “Just as easy as that,” Jude teased. Indigo glared at him.
    “I’m not rich, you know,” she said, reaching out and
flicking his collar. “Not like some people I know.”
    “I’m not rich either,” Jude argued, “but I’m working on it.”
    She let out an unladylike cackle and Jude’s knee bumped hers
again. This time she didn’t pull away. Even when she was razzing him, he wanted
to touch her. He knew that his break was long over but he didn’t care. Not with
her sitting next to him.
    “Well, you’re certainly dressing the