Love Out of Order (Indigo Love Spectrum) Read Free Page B

me. “We have to make you a sexy study buddy.”
    I laughed.
    “You know, you really should wear makeup more. At least eye makeup. You have such gorgeous eyes.” Suse handed me the eyeliner pencil because she knew I had this huge fear of being blinded by one and had to do that part myself.
    I looked into the mirror, holding the pencil off to the side. People always said that about my eyes. They’re w ide-set and brown and complemented my high cheek bones. At least that’s what the lady at the makeup counter at Macy’s told me once when I let Suse drag me over to her.
    After Suse and I primped me for my study date, she wished me luck and left. My heart started slamming against my rib cage as soon as she drove away from my apartment complex and reality sank in. I was about to meet John Archer outside of class. Just the two of us. I hoped. I would feel like such a fool if a whole group of people were there. And if I didn’t hurry, I would be late.
    I jumped into my car and started the ignition. Success again. At least my car was on my side that afternoon. My palms were sweating like I was about to give an opening statement. I couldn’t stop shaking even though I had the heat on full blast. The weather was a lot colder than it had been the day before, but not cold enough to have me shiv ering like I was. I sat there, thinking of all the horrible things that could go wrong as my car warmed up. Man, I needed a new car. I had too much time to think on my hands. And I was really torturing myself.
    What if John didn’t show up? What if he forgot? What if he never intended to show up? What if he showed up with his hot girlfriend? Somewhere inside, I knew that was unlikely since I’d heard she lived in Boston and it was Sunday afternoon, but rationality wasn’t my strong suit at that moment.
    Finally, mercifully, my car warmed up and I was off. The drive was not a long one, but I felt like was driving to Fredericksburg instead of just a few miles down the r oad. I sang along with the radio at the top of my lungs to a song I didn’t know the lyrics to. I did a quick mental review of what we had covered in our last Evidence class. I tried counting the number of black cars on the road, the number of cars with tint, the number of cars with luggage racks, the number of SUVs; but nothing would suppress the dominant thought flashing in neon lights in the center of my brain. I was meeting John Archer . To study. Just to study. Why wasn’t that last part resonating with me?
    When I got there, it took me forever to get out of the car. I dropped everything I was trying to carry several times. Except, thankfully, for my laptop. As I finally closed my car door, I caught sight of a Kompressor parked in the row of cars in front me. It had a Connecticut license plate. I stared at the blue and white license plate, clutching my Evidence book to my chest. It had to be John’s. How I happened to park in the row behind him, I had no idea. All of a sudden, I really had to pee.
    I spotted him as soon as I walked into the café area. My eyes went straight to him whenever he was in a room. He sat back in a leather armchair, his ankle crossed over the opposite knee. He was on his cellphone, laughing at something. His light blue sweater fit him in a way that made my already embarrassing and irrational perspiring worse.
    Someone bumped me from behind, muttering an apology, bringing me back to earth. I took a deep breath and walked over to him.
    “. . . .ove you, too. All right. Bye,” I heard him say as I started setting down my things. My heart sank and I t ried to convince myself that he had been talking to one of his parents while really believing it had been his sup posedly model-gorgeous girlfriend.
    I sat down and opened my laptop. I averted my eyes, keeping them trained on my computer screen. I had never felt more awkward in my life. I knew it was only a matter of time before I made a giant fool of myself.
    “Hey,” John said.
    I made