Seven Shades of You

by Johnson, A. M.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She giggled and dropped her face into her hands as I approached. “Hopeless, perhaps. These shoes are a deathtrap.” She toed them off and leaned down to pick them up. The light tan boots dangled from her fingertips as we walked toward my car. “A loan from Imogen. I only wore them to make her happy. I have Chucks in my bag.”

  A laugh burst past my lips. “You could have told her no.”

  “Imogen doesn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Well, you look hot either way.”

  Goddammit, did I really just say that out loud?

  “Hot?” She wrinkled her nose.

  “I’m serious. I like this color on you.” I pulled on her braid and chanced taking her hand in mine. I didn’t recognize any of the lingering students.

  She curled her fingers and exhaled. “Thanks.”

  I pointed to my bucket of rust. “Sorry about this, it’s—”

  “A car that runs.” She smiled as I opened the door for her.

  “On her good days.”

  All the uncertainty I’d had seemed unnecessary once I was in the car looking at her looking at me. She reached across the console and I met her half way. Her lips tasted like mint Chapstick, and, for maybe a half of a minute, I didn’t care if Royal might walk by, or anyone who knew us, all I wanted was to kiss her, taste her, feel this new fullness building inside me, pushing out all the empty like it was never there in the first place.

  Indie’s lips seemed fuller somehow as she pulled away, and I choked back a groan as she licked them.

  She eyed the ancient cassette player. “I don’t suppose there’s an outlet for my phone?”

  I chuckled. “No, ma’am, but if you open the glove box, I have a Bluetooth speaker you can connect to. Just set it on the dash.”

  Indie put on her paint-covered shoes and worked on getting her playlist to connect as I pulled out onto the highway. It was a forty-or-so minute drive west to Rockport. The coastal town was small and affluent for most, the rest of us lived on the outskirts, scraping by on local jobs and drowning in debt. I planned on showing Indie the better parts of the place I grew up, she didn’t ever need to see the rest.

  The Bluetooth speaker came to life and she clapped. “It works.”

  “Most of the time. Won’t the music app eat up your data, though?”

  “That’s okay. I always use the school’s WiFi. I have plenty.”

  A girl with a sweet voice started singing about red balloons. “What is this?”

  “My favorite eighties’ song. Figured it went with the car.”

  I laughed, and she smiled, pleased with herself. “This is a ‘92 Impala.”

  She shrugged. “Close enough.”

  I wanted to kiss the smug smile off her face.

  “It’s a good car.”

  She ran her fingers over the gray surface of the dashboard. “I like it. I like old things.”

  “It was a hand-me-down from my dad. He fixed it up when he was still working as a mechanic.” I didn’t like the wistful sound of my voice, begging for a time that no longer existed.

  “Does he still work on cars?”

  “Nah, doesn’t have the time, I guess. I wish he would though.” I don’t know why she made it easy to say the things I’d never say out loud to anyone. But when I looked at her, those big, honest, blue eyes asked for the truth. Asked for nothing less. Asked for me… “He was different then. Around more, loyal, loving even. His distance grew with every mile he put between me and my mom, selling shit parts at high prices across the country. Finding new reasons he shouldn’t stay home… I used to think it was my mother who kept him away, but over the years, I wondered if it was me, too.”

  “I don’t think it was you or your mom.” I kept my eyes on the road as she spoke. “Some people fight their demons by planting roots. And some run away…”

  The tone of her voice made my chest ache, and I fought to speak. “You believe that?”

  “My dad planted roots, and my mom ran away. They were apart for nine years before they had me and Royal.”

  “And they’re solid now?” I asked, taking my eyes off the road to look at her.

  She smiled. “As a rock.”

  “I don’t want to be like him… I don’t want to run away from my family.”

  “You haven’t.”

  No, I hadn’t.

  But I almost did.

  The night with Daphne, the booze, the almost death by asphyxiation. I swallowed past the growing pain in my throat and said, “You’re the one who should be a therapist, not Royal.” Her laugh hung in the air making the dull interior of the car seem brighter. “Can I pay you in pancakes for our time today?”

  “Ha-ha.”

  I reached for her, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, I laced our fingers together. Her skin was warm and soft, and I tried not to think about how good it felt to kiss her, to have her body molded under mine.

  “Royal will be a great therapist,” she said.

  “You’re good at it, though, listening. I’d rather talk to you than Brian any day.”

  “Then talk to me.” Indie squeezed my hand and blushed.

  “Can I ask you a question first?”

  “Why am I scared to say yes?”

  My shoulders shook as I laughed. “Don’t be scared.”

  She blew out a breath. “What’s the question?”

  “Why don’t you ever wear your hair down?”

  She leaned back into the seat, visibly relaxing.

  “It gets in the way when I paint.” She stared out the side of her window. The trees whipped by, smearing the highway in green.

  “But you’re not painting today.”

  I had fantasies about her damn hair. Pulling my fingers through it, having it touch my bare chest, feeling it brush against my cheek as she kissed me, pinning me beneath her. Her answer wasn’t what I expected and it cooled my heated thoughts.

  “I guess I’ve always just tried to blend in.” She whispered something I couldn’t hear as she faced the window again.

  “Indie.” I squeezed her hand. Softly, I said, “Hey… look at me.”

  She turned, her eyes pale and empty.

  “I get it…”

  She nodded, color leaking back into her irises.

  “What just happened?” I asked, grateful when she gave me a small smile.

  “I spend all this energy trying to keep it all quiet, and I’m good at it. Sometimes I’m not.”

  “The stuff in your head?”

  “Yeah. I can’t always silence them.”

  “Did they say something?”

  The grip she had on my hand lightened. “The usual stuff. I think every girl at some point struggles with insecurities, mine just happen to be more…vocal.” Her laugh was half-hearted. “Can I pay you in pancakes?”

  “I only take payment in the form of kisses.”

  “Done.”

  I let the car drift to a lower speed as the light ahead of us turned red. We rolled to a stop and I rubbed my thumb along the top of her hand.

  “Take your hair down.”

  Indie pressed her lips together, quiet as she considered me, her cheeks flushing with color.

  “Please.”

  She pulled her hand away from mine, and I thought I’d pushed her too far when she raised her fingers to the elastic in her hair and twisted it free. The light turned green but there was no one behind us as I extended my arm over the console, taking her wrist lightly between my thumb and finger, I lowered her hand to her lap. The pulse at the slope of her neck became visible as it quickened, the scent of lavender filling the car. I was drunk with it, with the feel of silk as I ran my fingers through her braid. The waves fell over her shoulder like gold. A river of gold in the palm of my hand. I wanted to smell it. Bury my face in it. Hold it in my fist and kiss her.

  Indie’s sweater dipped lower than anything she usually wore, her breasts rising and falling as I pulled the thick mass of waves ar
ound my fist. “You’re gorgeous,” I whispered, beside myself, pressing my foot on the brake, I gave in. She lifted her chin, her lips close enough I could almost taste them. “I have to kiss you… right now.”

  “Right now?”

  “I can’t help it. You’re too fucking pretty.”

  She laughed and I caught it between my lips. This kiss was different from this morning. The lazy, early hours had dwindled away, leaving behind a brush fire of need. My fingers tangled in her hair, drawing her closer, she bit my bottom lip. Hungry, I pulled away, my jeans painfully tight along the zipper. I took a minute to catch my breath, letting her hair tumble from my grip. The light had turned red again affording us a few more minutes to stare, to come down from our high. It was too soon when she picked up the elastic that had fallen into her lap and put it in the pocket of her jeans. Indie shook out the waves, and I was jealous of her fingers as the signal turned green. Reluctant, I let go of the brake.

  I didn’t miss the smile forming on her lips as I stole a few glances in her direction. She was like a whole different person with her hair down. It was thicker than I thought it would be, longer, too. It spilled over her shoulders and covered her breasts, sitting just at her waist. She looked older, braver?

  Indie held out her hand, and I liked the way her small palm, her delicate fingers, were consumed by mine.

  “Thank you,” she finally said.

  Confused I asked, “For?”

  “For making me feel beautiful.”

  Indigo

  “You are beautiful,” he said, slipping a piece of my hair behind my ear.

  My hands lay empty in my lap and I stared at them as I blushed. “Thank you.”

  A cover of Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic played from the small Bluetooth speaker. “I actually know this song,” he said.

  “I love this version, it’s sort of sleepy and blue.”

  I glanced across the console. Kai’s smile was pulled into a dimple as he steered the car left into a rundown parking lot.

  Cracked white vinyl siding that had yellowed over time seemed to hang heavy, fighting its own weight, as furry moss grew from underneath the eaves of the house in front of us. Tall firs lined the overgrown lot on either side; their arms reached out and brushed the rooftop in the light wind. Darryl’s was etched onto a long wooden sign and it hung from the porch by a rusted chain, one side longer than the other, most likely broken and repaired without a proper measurement. If it wasn’t for the two other vehicles parked in the lot, and the steam pouring from the chimney, I would have figured the place was closed.

  “I promise, the food is phenomenal.” Kai watched me with a grin.

  “I love it.”

  He turned off the engine. “They have this ongoing contest… you have to either eat a dozen eggs with all the sides, hash browns, bacon…” Chuckling, he shook his head. “Or a pound of pancakes. It’s totally unhealthy but I’ve always wanted to try it.”

  “What do you get if you win?”

  He bit his lip and ran his hand through his hair. Even under the ivory-colored Henley he wore, I could see the flex of his bicep. “They take your picture and put it on the wall… forever. It’s sort of a legendary thing.”

  The way he’d said forever made me giggle. His dark brown eyes were wide, like a little kid would look at his new toy car at Christmas.

  “You should do it,” I said.

  He laughed. “Today?”

  “Why not?”

  God, were his eyes beaming?

  “Because I want you to agree to another date, and if I eat that much food I’ll be terrible company.”

  “Another date?” I asked, letting the butterflies in my stomach have free reign.

  “I hope so.” The warmth of his hand soaked through my jeans as he squeezed my thigh. “Stay put.”

  Kai opened his door and slammed it shut before I had a chance to ask him where he was going. He jogged around the front end of the car and opened my door. He held out his hand and laced his fingers through mine.

  “Ready?” he asked, and I wanted to tell him I was ready for anything, as long as he was a part of the equation.

  I grabbed my bag with a nod and let him lead the way inside.

  The scent of cinnamon and bacon grease greeted us as a bell jingled over the front door. Wood paneling, wood floors. The small diner was covered in all-things wood. Old, sturdy wood booths with brown cloth cushions wrapped around the dining room, leaving a few four-top wooden tables in the center. The heat from the kitchen billowed through the room, the windows trickled sweat along their panes. Classic rock played from what looked like the world’s last standing jukebox. I fell deeper in love with the place every second. I wondered if Darryl was the owner, or if the namesake was someone long gone, a legend in his own right. There was a seat yourself sign, cross stitched, the fabric frayed around the wooden frame, hanging from a lone cash register. The floors stuck to the soles of my shoes and Kai’s grip on my hand tightened as he led me toward a booth near the back.

  “This okay?” he asked.

  “Perfect.”

  He let go of my hand, and, as I sank into the booth’s deep seat cushion, I admired the wall. From left to right the entire space had been covered in pictures of smiling faces. Some of the snapshots had to date back at least twenty or so years. Grinning, I absorbed as many of the faces as I could, then glanced around the restaurant wondering if the few people scattered about might be one of the people on the wall.

  “I used to come here with my mom every Sunday.” Kai focused his eyes along the wall of fame. “She’d order a cup of coffee, no sugar. Lots of cream…” His lips twitched. “She’d goad me into ordering the pound of pancakes. And I ordered them every time. When I was little, I wondered why she only ordered coffee, but as I got older, I realized she knew the whole time I’d never finish the damn pancakes. She just knew that for me, the fun was in the ordering and in the possibilities.”

  “She shared them with you?”

  Kai huffed out a laugh. “Yeah.” He reached across the table and I covered his hand. “She did.”

  His knuckles were rough against the palm of my hand. Lost to the history of the moment, I hadn’t noticed the waitress until she plunked down two plastic-covered menus.

  “Kai Carter, well, well, well…” She clicked her tongue and smiled. The smile bled into the soft wrinkles of her cheeks, the red stain on her lips stuck to her front teeth. The badge pinned to her orange and yellow top had the name Genie spelled out with black marker. The name somehow fit with the mop of silver curls poking out from under her hair net. “How’s your momma doing?”

  Kai sat up, slipping his hand into his lap, he said, “Not great, if I’m being honest.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.” She placed her fingers on his shoulder, her skin paper thin, the veins in her hands seemed fragile. “I’ll have the girls say a prayer for her next Wednesday at church.”

  Kai’s lips parted as if he was about to smile, but didn’t have the strength. “Thanks, G, she’d love that.”

  The woman turned her attention to me. Her dull green eyes sparking with curiosity. “Who’s your pretty friend?”

  “G, this is Indie, we go to school together.”

  “Indie… Like Indiana Jones?”

  “No, ma’am. Indigo, like the color blue,” he corrected, and I felt my cheeks heat. I liked the way my full name sounded in his gruff voice. Almost desperate.

  “Indigo,” she whispered with a flourish of her hand. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “And so polite. Please… tell me this is a date.”

  Kai’s cheeks actually flushed. “It’s a date.”

  She squeaked and looked over her shoulder toward the kitchen. For a minute, I thought she was going to tell the whole restaurant we were on a date, but she clapped her hands and asked, “You bringing her home to meet your momma?”

  “It’s our first date,” he said.


  “So?”

  His laugh was patient. I might’ve liked watching him squirm a little under the pressure. “I’m taking her to that gallery in town.”

  “That art gallery is closed on Sundays.”

  He started to swear but caught himself. “It is?”

  “Sure is. Everything is closed on Sundays ‘cept us.”

  “That’s okay.” I playfully kicked his foot under the table. “You owe me another swim lesson. Remember?”

  “That could work.”

  The flirty tone of his voice pulsed in my fingertips, itching to touch him, his skin, his lips wet with pool water, mine to kiss. The pulse spread through my body as I thought about his hands on me. On my back, my thighs, my stomach, this time without that precarious line. Was I ready for this? For him? My heart tripped as it sprinted.

  You’re just another girl.

  He thinks I’m beautiful.

  The noise in my head faded, and I caught the tail end of Genie and Kai’s conversation.

  “…well, Marvin is cooking today. I’ll make sure he don’t burn her eggs.”

  “I told Indie she had to get the pancakes.”

  She raised her brow. “You’d think after all these years this boy would get something different. Cheap date, making her split pancakes like you used to do with your momma.”

  Kai laughed, his shoulders relaxing into the seat cushion, he held up his hands. “I promise, she can have her own plate.”

  Genie grabbed the menus. “Two short stacks?”

  He nodded and asked me, “Do you want coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Two coffees, cream and sugar—”