Catching Jordan (14 page)

“Truth or dare time,” Carrie says. She tucks her hair behind her ears.

“What the hel …” JJ says. “This isn’t seventh grade.”

“I stil haven’t recovered from seven minutes in heaven with Woods,” Henry says. He sticks his tongue out and pretends to gag, then smiles.

“What?” Ty blurts, looking from Henry’s face to mine and back again.

“It was awful, man,” Henry says, cracking up. “Woods beat the shit out of me in the closet. She gave me a black eye.”

Ty starts laughing and grins at the carpet.

“Okay, okay,” Lacey says, holding up her hands trying to calm us down. “Carter—truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

Staring at the ceiling, Lacey cocks her head. “I dare you to hump the Heisman Trophy.”

“Sacrilege!” Henry yel s.

“That trophy is not on the table!” I say.

“Over my dead body!” JJ exclaims, glaring at Lacey as if she’s just kil ed Peyton Manning.

“Geez, sorry, guys,” Lacey replies. She scoots away from JJ, putting a good foot between them. “It’s just a trophy.”

“No, it is
not
just a trophy,” Ty says, glancing up at my face.

“Pick a different dare, honey,” JJ says. Grinning, she unscoots and moves to sit on JJ’s lap. He gives Lacey’s hip a quick squeeze.

Honey?

Obviously he knows he’s not getting any tonight unless he’s nice and supportive, but honestly? So what if her waist is the size of a green bean and her breasts are like cantaloupes? Her brain is the size of an M&M.

“Hump the Heisman Trophy, my ass,” I mutter.

“Okay,” Lacey says, tapping her lip with a finger. “Carter, I dare you to make out with Carrie.”

Carter raises his eyebrows at Henry, who shrugs. This surprises me, because even though he says he’s not upset about Carrie, I total y thought he was depressed because she broke up with him. So why would he be okay with her kissing one of his best friends?

Then Carter turns to face Carrie. She smiles and lets out a short burst of laughter, then leans back on her hands and crosses her ankles in front of her. Carter coughs into a fist and kisses her quickly on the lips. When he pul s away, they smile at each other for a few seconds. It’s actual y kind of cute, and I wonder if Ty would smile at me like that after a kiss. If I had just let him kiss me last week, maybe I’d know.

“That wasn’t making out!” Lacey squeals.

“My turn,” Carter says, ignoring Lacey. “JJ—truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“What is your favorite NFL team?”

Lacey snorts. “Oh God.”

JJ strokes his chin and pretends to take a long time choosing an answer. A minute later, he folds his hands. “Uh, I guess I’l have to go with the Titans.”

Lacey throws a pil ow at Carter, who puts his hands up in a gesture that says, “What?”

“Kristen—truth or dare?” JJ asks.

“Dare,” Kristen replies, gazing at Ty.

“I dare you to go in the kitchen and make me a steak and mashed potatoes, woman. Medium-wel , please. Steak’s in the freezer!”

Henry dies laughing, rol ing over onto the floor, clutching his stomach.

“Jerks,” Marie and Carrie say, shaking their heads.

“You chauvinist pig,” I say to JJ, who starts laughing just as hard as Henry, which makes me laugh, which makes Ty laugh.

Then he and I stare at each other, laughing.

Kristen clearly sees this and sighs loudly. She glares at me and then stands up, puts her hands on her hips and stalks toward the kitchen. I hear her banging around in there, rattling pans and opening and shutting the fridge.

“Jordan—truth or dare?” Kristen cal s out from the kitchen. I hear her slamming a pan down on the stove. Then I hear drawers and cabinets opening and slamming shut.

Truth is always God-awful, but what if she dares me to spend the rest of the night alone in my room, or dares me to leave my own house so she and Ty can be al alone? Shit.

“Dare,” I reply.

Kristen, now wearing an apron, pokes her head back in the family room. “I dare you to jump into the lake.”

I stand up. This dare is a cinch.

“In your underwear,” Kristen adds, pointing at my body with a spatula.

Crap. Which underwear am I wearing? Do they even match my bra? Do they look…gross? I think I’m wearing plain white underwear. God, I don’t want Ty to see me in ugly underwear. I cover my face with my hands. I just need to get this over with, so I sprint out my back door to the dock.

•••

I jump into the freezing water, which reeks of algae and fish. I love it. The cool water lowers my temperature and makes my racing heart slow down.

I look down at my plain white tank and boy shorts, which are sticking to me like a wet paper towel clinging to spilt Coke on a kitchen floor. Why can’t I just wear pretty underwear like the cheerleaders? It’s not like the team would ever have to know…

I submerge my body in the water up to my neck so no one can see me. Hopeful y everyone wil take my clothes lying on the docks as proof that I’m in my underwear. A minute goes by, but no one comes out. Then, il uminated by light from my house, darting through the trees, I see him walking toward me. Just him. Just Ty.

“Hey,” he says. “How’s the water?”

“Freezing. Where’s everybody else?”

“I told them that if they want to keep their arms, they wouldn’t come out here.”

I laugh. “You told them you’d pul their arms from their sockets?”

He grins. “Yup.”

“And how do you, Mr. Measly Quarterback, expect to do anything to JJ?”

“I imagine I could do some damage if I were mad enough.”

I chuckle. “Keep tel ing yourself that. Thanks for scaring them off. Turn around so I can get out and get dressed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” He stares straight into my eyes. “I didn’t scare them off for you. I did it for me. I’m coming in with you.” He pul s off his shirt and kicks off his flip-flops. His body is perfect, chiseled like a statue. He begins to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, and I twirl around in the water. I gaze across the lake at the distant shore, trying to focus on the trees, the sand, the rocks, anything.

I hear a splash. The water moves toward me.

Suddenly I feel his hands wrap around me from behind. He rests his forehead on my back. “God, it’s cold,” he says. “Warm me up.”

“I’m cold too.”

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

Trembling, I take a rattled breath. “Ty, I need to stay focused.”

“Am I causing you to lose focus?” He laughs.

“Maybe.”

“What if I told you I’ve already lost al focus because of you?” He rests his chin on my shoulder and glances at my face.

“I’d say you’re screwing with me.”

“It’s true. Being around you is like drinking a shot of whiskey.”

“You feel drunk when you’re around me?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Ditto.”

He drags his hands across my stomach, dipping a fingertip into my bel y button, and I feel his mouth on my shoulder. My brain tel s me to run—to forget about this. But my body tel s my brain to shut the hel up.

“Jordan,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?”

He turns me around, causing ripples in the water, and then his mouth is on mine. Our first kiss explodes like mixing soda and pop rocks. His soft lips feel better than I ever imagined. I don’t know what I’m doing with my lips or my tongue, so I try to fol ow his lead and let him do the work. I hope my lips don’t feel like limp spaghetti.

Soon, I’m figuring out how to kiss—he runs his tongue along my lips, so I bite his lower lip in response. He laughs. I inch my fingertips across his shoulders and elbows as I move my mouth to his throat.

He whispers, “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.” I’m not so scared anymore. If he likes me for who I am, it doesn’t matter what kind of underwear I’m wearing. Or that I’m not wearing makeup. Or that I’m over six feet tal . “You’re real y cute too,” I say, giving him another kiss on the lips, digging my fingertips into his abs.

“I’ve never wanted anyone so much in my life.”

I moan softly as he kisses my neck, right beneath my ear, in return. “You want me?”

“Every bit of you,” he mumbles. Taking my hands in his, his eyes find mine. He caresses the tops of my hands with his thumbs. He says, “Race me across the lake?”

Al I want is to feel his body against mine, but I can’t resist a chal enge. “You’re on.” I take off swimming, having done this a hundred times in my life. I know I can swim the length of the lake in about two minutes. I easily beat him, pul myself onto the banks, and lie down on a soft mossy patch, so green it’s almost like lying on Astroturf, only without the rug burns.

“You could’ve told me you’re a female Michael Phelps before I made an ass of myself,” he says, smiling as he drags himself out of the lake. He shakes the water out of his hair.

He lies down next to me, leaning on an elbow, his eyes scanning my body. He doesn’t seem to have a problem with my soggy underwear. Has a teenage girl ever felt less sexy than I do now?

I shiver when he runs a finger across my bare stomach, right above the elastic of my boy shorts, before exploring my body with his lips. I weave my hands through his hair, then pul him up so he’s facing me, and he smiles. He nudges my nose with his. “I want you.”

We kiss some more, and while gasping for breath, I reply, “I’m al yours.”

the count? 8 days until alabama
I’m hiding out in a bathroom stal at school on Monday morning. Except for Ty, I haven’t seen anyone since Saturday night, and I’m not looking forward to al the questions that are undoubtedly coming. Like, where did Ty and I disappear to? And what’s going on between us? I don’t even know the answer to that one. Do “I want you,” and “I’m al yours,” mean we’re official y dating now? Or was I just a random hook up?

Right as I’m about to stand up and leave the bathroom, I hear the door opening and shutting.

“Don’t worry about it, Kris,” says a girl.

I peer through the crack in the stal and see Lacey and Kristen staring in the mirror as they start to apply lip gloss and fluff their hair.

“How can I not worry about it? Of al girls, he ditched me for Jordan Woods. Wel , if you consider her a girl. Gross,” Kristen says.

“I don’t think he likes her,” Lacey replies. “He just can’t.”

“Maybe he just wants to screw her because she’s a virgin.”

“Yeah…maybe.”

I take a deep breath. Kristen’s going to tel the whole school that I disappeared with Ty on Saturday. It’s seventh grade al over again.

Wait, what if they’re right? What if Ty only wants to devirginize me? But how would he even know? It’s not like Lacey and Kristen know everything.

I could’ve screwed Mike’s friend Jake Reynolds, and they’d never know.

“So what do I do?” Kristen says.

“Play it cool. I don’t think he’l stay interested in Jordan for too long—especial y not when he sees how much time she spends with Sam Henry. JJ

told me that Sam stays over at her house al the time. Like in the same bed!”

Kristen gasps. “What? That’s so weird. Maybe she’s not a virgin, after al . Maybe she’s a slut.”

Damn it, Henry’s like my brother—don’t they know that? Rather than deal with these awful girls face-to-face, I decide to stay in the stal until they leave. And then I’m getting the hel out of here. I’d rather skip school than deal with the aftermath of Saturday night.

When they’re gone, I tiptoe out of the bathroom and head for the front doors of the school. Halfway there, I see Marie, who rushes up to me, smiling. “Jordan! Oh my God—you and Ty? You’re so lucky.”

I feel bad for ignoring her because she’s actual y nice, but I can’t deal. Seriously.

Other girls in the hal way stop moving when they see me, giggling and whispering to each other.

Bates and Higgins walk up. “Yo, Woods,” they say.

“Great game Friday,” Bates adds, knocking fists with me.

“You’re a shoo-in for Alabama,” Higgins says, resting his arm on my shoulder. “I hope you’l put in a good word for me.”

Thank God—they don’t mention the hideous photo shoot either. Then a few other guys pass me and say hi, acting normal. But al the girls stare.

Then I see JJ, who walks right up and grabs my elbow. “Are you okay? Because if you aren’t, I’m gonna kick that pretty boy’s ass. Right now.”

What?
JJ, Mr. “If You Share Your Feelings with Me I’l Snap Your Head Off,” is concerned about my love life?

“I’m fine,” I tel JJ, “But I don’t feel good. I’m gonna go home.” I take off again, and then I see him. Ty. Coming toward me and smiling. He waves.

And I sprint for the front door.

•••

Now I’m hiding in the potting shed, alternating between writing in my journal and repeatedly tossing a footbal up in the air and catching it. I like it in here. Makes me feel like a kid again, without any of these problems.

After throwing the bal up and catching it for the thousandth time, I wedge the flashlight under my chin and begin to write: The whole school knows about Saturday night Saturday, disappearing with Ty was the right decision Right as eating peanuts at a baseball game Right as the sound of coffee grinding on Saturday morning Today? Confused as hell

I can’t believe how much I’m beginning to love writing. Not just getting thoughts out of my head, but the chal enge of finding creative words and rhythms and fun descriptions.

Right as the smell of smoke following fireworks Stil , writing’s a weak thing to be doing. At least compared to playing quarterback. Or eating those scalding 911 wings that made me and Ty cry at the Titans game.

The door to the shed suddenly slams open and Henry crawls in next to me, watching as I hide my journal behind a watering can.

Running a hand through his curly blond hair, Henry hip-checks me and presses his shoulder against mine.

“Yo, Woods—how could you miss practice? You have the plague or something?”

“If I do, you’ve got it now too.”

“Why’d you skip school?”

We lean back against the shed wal , and I curl up under his arm and drop the footbal onto his lap. Faint sunlight shimmers through the grimy window.