Hindsight: Out of the Blue (Part 1)

by Kelly Martin



  Out of the Blue

  Hindsight #1

  by Kelly Martin

  Copyright © 2014 KELLY MARTIN

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  OUT OF THE BLUE

  Copyright © 2014 KELLY MARTIN

  ISBN: 978-0-9915872-1-6

  ISBN 10: 0991587219

  Cover Art by P.S. Cover Design

  Edited by Laura Heritage

  To Laura

  Chapter One

  Start at the beginning…

  The first time I met Jordan Rivers she was standing with her arms crossed, her jaw set and her brows furrowed. You'd think by her stance — and the way she glared at me — that she was mad. You'd be right.

  It wasn't like I'd done anything to her. Not intentionally anyway. It just happened out of the blue. The right place at the right time, I suppose.

  Unfortunately for both of us, I had the gall to try to staple the tiny corner of my ad on top of hers on the 'wanted' board across from the university book store. How dare I?

  I turned around — back to the business at hand and could hear her huffing behind me — all annoyed, so I did what any guy would do — I moved a little slower and stapled my piece of paper right on top of hers. That earned an exasperated long huff. It made me laugh. Sure, it probably wasn't the nicest thing to do, but I couldn't help it. She sort of deserved it for being ticked off at me without reason.

  My laughing didn't amuse her, though. Not that I thought it would and something about that amused me. Now you have to understand, I'm not the type of guy who goes around ticking off girls. Well, normally… but I couldn't seem to help it with J. She was that sort of girl. Even from the beginning. Even before…

  "Can you not do that? Please." She gritted the last word though her teeth, like being nice pained her. Maybe it did. It wasn't like I'd done anything to give her a reason to be nice to me. I could feel her next to me. The top of her shoulder touched my elbow. A short little thing with a temper… and a pretty face.

  "Why? It's already so nice and stapled." I tried not to hide the smile, but I couldn't. Not very well anyway.

  "I don't think it's funny." She crossed her arms. Her cheeks had reddened and her huge blue eyes — a little darker than mine — let me know that she wanted to rip mine out.

  All over one stupid small piece of paper mind you.

  One.

  "I can see that." The snicker that slipped out wasn't my finest moment.

  Without missing a beat, she punched my shoulder and grabbed for the little yellow ad on the board.

  I'd seen a temper like hers before. You couldn't live with my sister any length of time and not see it, and my old body of eighteen years just couldn't move like it could when Ella and I were kids.

  Thankfully, she stopped herself before she pulled the paper off—

  I have to wonder what would happen if she didn't stop. If she'd grabbed my ad, crumbled it up and threw it in the trash as she strutted off. Things would have been different, that's for sure. I never would have met Oliver Weston for one thing. I could have done without that. Archenemies and all…

  And I never would have had to—

  The beginning, right? I keep trying to jump ahead. We are at the beginning. Not the end. The end will come. It always does.

  Fate — fate or God — is funny like that. So many what ifs in life. What if she had thrown the paper away? What if I had gotten there in time?

  One word changed my life forever. Changed the course of hers too.

  Wow. I sound like a big deep doofus, don't I? I don't mean too, it's just… There are events that change our lives, and meeting her that morning was one of them for me. That's all.

  ROOMATE

  The one word was roommate.

  "Wait." She pulled her hand from the board and placed one finger on her chin. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was better than the alternative. She could have poked me with it. From how ticked off she looked, I bet a poke from her finger would leave a bruise. "You're looking for a roommate?"

  I nodded with a suddenly very sick feeling in my stomach.

  She pointed to the ad underneath mine.

  ROOMATE WANTED

  "Oh," I said as I scanned the white flier — the "official" one with the 'Linley College' stamp on top.

  ROOMATE WANTED. QUIET HOURS A MUST. NO PETS. NO SMOKING. NO DRUGS. IF INTERESTED PLEASE CALL…

  But I didn't have to call. She was right there, staring at the board like if she did long enough the letters would change. "I have a place to rent but only need a roommate and you need a… place to live."

  "Sadly."

  "Any prospects?"

  "Not in the five minutes since I hung my flier." She did that a lot. Spoke with an edge. Took a while to get used to it.

  "You were stalking your flier?"

  She rolled her baby blues. "I was curious to see if anybody read it. Lucky me. I got you."

  "Not really. I didn't read it."

  Yeah… if looks could kill…

  "Face it, Big Eyes. You need an ad that stands out if you want people to actually notice it. One that doesn't conform to rules and regulations."

  "Like your code-violating yellow one?"

  I smiled as brilliantly as I could. Every tooth in my head must have shown "Got your attention, didn't it?" To my complete and total surprise, she actually smiled back at me. Not a fake smile either. Not a grimace or sneer. An actual, happy, smile.

  "You should do that more," I said before I could stop myself. It was true through. She was pretty when she smiled. Full of life. Beautiful.

  "Because you've known me all of a minute." She smirked and shook her head, causing her long black hair to spill over her shoulders. I wouldn't be a man if I said I didn't look — and I'd be lying if my first thought wasn't to run my hands through it, and other thoughts you don't need to know about. Use your imagination.

  Never mind.

  "What can I say? It's been an incredible minute." Was my awesomely cheesy comeback.

  She narrowed her eyes at me — her expected response. Okay, so I wasn't what you'd call a lady's man. Never been particularly good at talking to them.

  The thing about girls is you never know their mood. And you never know when they'll cry or when they'll haul off and kick you. I learned that from Ella back in Oklahoma too.

  "Yeah. Sorry. Anyway, it seems we both are looking for a roommate."

  "Looks that way," she said back.

  I thought about it, but—

  "Do you want to see the apartment first?" she asked surprising the heck out of me.

  I sputtered out some sort of surprised, indecipherable sound.

  "Roommate, idiot." She scoffed, all the while smiling bigger. I liked it. "I need one. You need an apartment. We could help each other out."

  I'm not sure coherent words were in my mind at that time. Never in a million years did I ever think of rooming with a girl. When I moved from Oklahoma to Linley, Tennessee, I thought I had a dorm room with, of course, a dude. When that fell through due to a clerical error in the LC housing office, I naturally assumed I'd get an apartment — with a dude. My parents — good church-going folks that they are — would come up here and drag me back to Oklahoma so fast I'd leave a trail o
f blond hair behind me, if they thought I was living with a girl.

  "I have a boyfriend," she said like I should have known. Like it would make a difference. "His name is Oliver Weston. He's a senior here at LC, and he's hot and rich, so no. This isn't a play for you and me to hook up."

  Then again…

  "If he's so hot and rich, why don't you stay with him?" An honest question.

  She hesitated a second before she answered. "He wants to stay at his fraternity house and I want to make it on my own without his help."

  "Trouble in paradise?" Not that it was any of my business. A fact she reminded me of soon enough.

  "Hardly." One word answer. Perfect. She was hiding something, and the inquisitive part of me wanted to know what it was. But I didn't press it. I'd already pried too much already. Her business was her business.

  "And he won't mind you living with another guy?"

  She shrugged. "It's not his decision. It's mine. Besides we won't be 'living together'." One side of her mouth quirked up. Obviously, I wasn't in on a joke.

  "But I thought you wanted to share an apartment?" I guess my feelings were sort of hurt. She changed her mind more than anyone I'd ever known.

  "Come and see the place with me. You'll understand."

  She made valid points, and I was definitely curious. "Okay, but don't try to take advantage of me. I'm fragile."

  J snickered. "I'll do my best."

  "Good." I pulled her ad down and handed it to her. "And I don't normally go to a girl's house when I don't know her name. Unless you count…"

  "Jordan. My name is Jordan." She took the ad in one hand and held out the other to shake. I immediately took it.

  "First or last?"

  She tilted her head quizzically.

  "I had this teacher once, Mr. James Jordan. His last name was…"

  "Jordan." She'd already started finishing my sentences for me. "I got it."

  No getting by her. "So… Jordan. First or last?"

  "First. My last name is Rivers."

  I nearly choked. "Jordan Rivers? Seriously? As in the Bible?"

  Still shaking my hand, she squeezed my fingers just a little bit tighter. Enough to actually hurt. "As in my sheriff brother will arrest you if you make fun of his last name."

  "What's his name? Nile?"

  She nearly broke my hand. "His name is Joshua. Thanks for asking."

  "My bad." I grimaced. The woman had spunk. I liked that about her. Only — I didn't know it then — but she didn't have the same spunk, the same attitude, around Oliver.

  It was when she saw the pain on my face that she eased up on her grip. My fingers appreciated it. "My father thought it would be hilarious to name me Jordan. He was a nerd for puns. A love he apparently got after the birth of my luckier, normally named brother. But you can call me J."

  "Like the letter?"

  "You ask a lot of questions," she said.

  "You say a lot of vague things," I fired back.

  She sighed. "Yes. Just like the letter."

  We could have probably stopped shaking hands by now. In fact, we actually had stopped shaking. We were just sort of standing there. Holding hands. In the hall. People were walking by, but I never noticed them. J had a way of keeping your attention.

  "And you are?"

  "Oh." I realized I hadn't told her my name yet. I'm pretty sure my cheeks turned a little red. I was just standing there holding her hand like an idiot. It was sort of embarrassing. "Walker Scott. I'm new here."

  "Really?" J pulled her hair back over her shoulders and smirked. "I couldn't tell."