The Colors of Love

7: Evaluations

As the bells rings, signaling the end of school, I wander out to the parking lot. I would usually take the bus home, but since Adriana has a car, she offered to drive us to my house. It's been about a week since we decided to pair up, and yet we still haven't even started the project. I finally decided to track her down this morning and beg her to start on it tonight.

I sit under a tree on a bench, admiring the autumn colors. Red leaves, yellow leaves, even a few green leaves are left. It feels absolutely amazing being able to tell the difference between the colors, and being able to call them by name. The most stunning color I've ever seen is still the blue in Adriana's eyes.

I glance up to the door, and see my soulmate walking out. As I watch, a basketball player -Jared Lorace- comes to speak with her. Jared is obviously flirting, but Adriana doesn't seem to care. She just turns the other way and keeps walking towards me. When she reaches me, I smile. I expected her to smile back, or say something, but she just keeps scowling and says, "Let's go."

She walks to her car, which is a beat up old red Jeep. I hurry after her, and hop into the passenger side seat. Once we pull out of the parking lot, I ask, "So, what did Jared want?"

"What's it to you?" she snaps.

"Nothing...I just thought I'd be friendly and ask," I say defensively.

"Let's get one thing straight here: you and I aren't friends. Never have been, never will be. We're working on this project together because we have to," she says.

My heart sinks, but I sigh, "Got it."

When we get to my house, I walk Adriana up to my room. It's decorated terribly, but I blame that on the fact that I couldn't see in color.

I sit down on the edge of my bed, which has a purple bed spread, and pull out my Psychology notebook. Adriana sits at my desk, careful not to look at me.

"So, um, tell me about yourself," I say awkwardly. She glares at me, so I explain myself. "How am I supposed to evaluate you if I don't know you?"

She groans, but says, "Fine. My name is Adriana Loraine Markus. I don't have a favorite color, because I can't see colors. I like dogs, I like football, and I like music."

Well, it's not much to go on, but it's more than nothing. I smile at her, and say, "What kind of music?"

The corners of her mouth twitch, but she still doesn't smile. "Rock, mainly. But I like punk rock and alternative too," she says.

I try not to smile as she says that. It's clear, with every passing moment, why Adriana is my soulmate. She likes music, she likes animals, she likes football, and she's brave, smart, and confident. Good grief, I hit the jackpot.

"Okay, I did it. Now tell me something about you," she grumbles.

I oblige, and say, "I like music too. I'm more of a punk rock person than a full on rocker, but I still appreciate rock music. I like drawing-" I stop there. "Even though I can't see colors, I still like to draw."

"Go on," she says, a smirk appearing on her face.

"Umm...I like books. Like, a lot. I want to write a novel one day..." I pause as my face heats up in embarrassment. "I know, it's silly, but-"

"No," Adriana cuts in. "I like books too. I'm surprised a guy like you would admit to such."

"A guy like me?"

"Yeah. A popular, goody two shoes type of guy. You're supposed to be cool and popular, not nerdy," she explains, a teasing smirk on her face.

I laugh, "I'm not popular. And I'm not a goody two shoes."

She cocks an eyebrow, and says, "Yeah? Have you ever skipped class? Forgotten a homework assignment?" I blush under her gaze, because she's right. I'm an uptight student. I like turning things in on time, and being orderly, and getting A's. "I didn't think so."

"Well...what are you saying? You aren't?" I ask.

She glances at me, then back at her paper. She then replies, "No, I'm not."

"There's nothing wrong with that, Adriana," I say. "We're boring and uptight. People like you- people that are artsy and brave, and don't care about the school system- you're inspiring."

Her eyes are wide now, and she looks at me with fear. "How do you know so much about me?"

"We're doing a psychology evaluation, I'm supposed to read into your emotions and figure you out," I tease her.

She doesn't respond. Instead, she looks away, back to my desk. Quietly, she says, "I don't usually let people in."

My heart is hammering in my chest as I say, "Will you let me in?"