Confessions of a Heartbreaker (22 page)

Before I can shake her loose, she's already gone.

For just a moment I stand there feeling strangely paralyzed before Max interrupts my whirling thoughts.

"Don't listen to her, Marissa doesn't know her ass from a hole in the ground."

I stare down at the still silent phone burning a hole in the palm of my hand.

So why haven't I heard from Jordan then? Why hasn't she called or texted me since Sunday morning? Is she avoiding me? Would her parents seriously throw their house up for sale because of this? What happened Saturday night wasn't Jordan's fault.

Without a word, I start jogging down the hallway.

"Dude, where you going? It's lunch time and I'm starving."

"I need to see Jordan," I holler over my shoulder, "I have to get this straightened out right now."

"Maybe we should eat first-"

Shaking my head, I don't bother answering.

"Okay, well good luck then."

Unfortunately I have the sinking feeling that luck isn't going to be on my side this time around.

Chapter Eighteen

I'm not going to lie, it feels like there's a giant boulder sitting in the pit of my gut. And damn if Marissa's words aren't churning in my head the entire time it takes for me to hightail it over to Jordan's house. Which ends up being a record breaking four minutes flat. You better believe I hauled some
major
ass to get there, probably broke about ten different traffic laws in the process as well. But I don't care about all that crap. What I need is to find Jordan and straighten this whole freaking mess out. Because as much as I want it to not be true, I have the bad feeling that it might be.

Just as I'm squealing my tires around the bend of a corner, I'm slammed with the ugly truth of this situation. The evidence is right there in front of me. There's absolutely no denying it. Even from four houses down the block I see the large white rectangular sign sticking out of her thick lawn with two big bright red words stamped across it.

Son of a-

Pulling my truck over to the side of the street, all I can do is sit there in stupefied silence staring at it as shock continues to wash over me.

What the hell?

Why didn't she tell me about this?

The more I stare at the sign, the more certain I am that this has nothing to do with Saturday night. There's just no way they could have thrown their house up for sale this quickly. Which means that, for some reason, Jordan has been holding out on me.

But why?

Why would she do that? I'm hoping against hope that there's some kind of reasonable explanation for all this. But at the same time, I think the chances of that are slim.

Plowing my hands roughly through my hair, I jump out of my truck before jogging up to the massive front door. It takes a moment (which literally feels like a lifetime) before the door finally swings open.

Standing on the other side of the threshold is a small blond woman. I've only seen Jordan's mom one other time and, well, it's pretty doubtful that she remembers me because I think she was seriously blitzed out of her mind that day. And hey, I'm in no way being judgmental. Been there, done that a few times myself. But I have to admit that the whole crashing into a table and destroying a bunch of glass dishes was pretty damn intense. I still remember how calmly Jordan took care of her mom until her aunt arrived on the scene. I don't think I've ever met a girl as strong as Jordan.

"Um, hi, I'm Parker. I was kind of hoping I could speak with Jordan."

A smile blooms across her pretty face. "Parker, it's so nice to meet you. Jordan's told me so much about you."

Yeah, I can just imagine what this woman has heard about me. It takes almost everything I have not to flinch inwardly. "Don't listen to a single word your daughter says, Mrs. Whitnall. I promise, they’re nothing more than bald faced lies." I give her a charming smile because I've never wanted someone's mom to like me more than I want this one to.

Okay, that's not altogether true because Steve Andrews has one smoking hot mom and two summers ago, I seriously did my damnedest to well...
you know
... Trust me when I say that that woman takes the definition of MILF (mother I'd like to fuck) to a whole new level. Sadly nothing happened that summer but it certainly wasn't from my lack of trying.

But clearly this isn't
that
kind of situation.  At all.  In fact, it's the furthest thing from it. Actually that thought is grossing me out right now and I need to seriously stop thinking about it.

She chuckles just a bit. It's a throaty little laugh which reminds me of Jordan's. "I promise, I've heard nothing but good things about you, Parker. Jordan says that you're making quite a bit of progress with your tutoring sessions."

Hmmm, out of all the things I expected her to say, that really wasn't one of them. Jordan has come to mean so much more to me than that. "Your daughter is an excellent tutor. She's really kicking my a-," I bite back the word before it's fully able to escape from my mouth, "
butt
into high gear. I'm having the best semester I've ever had and it's all because of her." And that's no lie. I am doing remarkably well. So much so that my parents are almost beside themselves with giddiness.

Of course, all that giddiness was pretty much flushed down the shitter when I beat the piss out of Chris Hartley. And FYI- my parents weren't pissed that I stopped Hartley from trying to assault Jordan. Hell no, my dad's problem was that I went about rearranging his face a little too
enthusiastically
. But seriously, what was I supposed to do? Pull him off her and give him a little slap on the wrist for trying to hurt my girl? Yeah, I don't think so, people.

You mess with the bull, you get the freaking horns.

Or, you know, about ten punches to the face.

But don't even get me started on that right now because I swear the mere thought of it only starts cranking me up all over again... And I'm currently worked up about something else at the moment. I'm sure I'll get back to the whole Chris Hartley situation later.

"Why don't you come in and wait for Jordan, she just went up to take a shower."

Hmmm, now there's a rather distracting thought... but no! I have to stay focused on the reason I'm here in the first place.

Must. Not. Think. About. Jordan. In. The. Shower.

Must. Focus.

Well that's certainly going to take a super herculean effort on my part.

Her eyes darken just a bit as the smile slips from her face. "Jordan wasn't quite feeling up to going to school this morning."

I certainly can't blame her for that. I'm actually kind of glad she decided to take a pass today. The last thing she needs to deal with is all that BS flying around. It's sheer madness over there with freaking Marissa Sandberg leading the proverbial rumor mill charge. I follow Jordan's mom into the enormous, formal living room. She gestures for me to sit down before doing the same in a chair situated across from me.

She holds my eyes before saying quietly, "I can't thank you enough for what you did a few nights ago. You have no idea what Jordan means to us and the fact that she was in such a dangerous situation... well..." Her words trail off as she looks down at her fingers which are twisting together in her lap. "Chris has been a guest in our home many times. It's difficult to imagine that he would force himself on her like that."

Even though I would dearly love to pipe up at this point, it really doesn't feel like an appropriate time to tell her that I was never a Chris Hartley fan to begin with. Although admittedly, even I was shocked to find him holding Jordan down, forcing himself on her. I certainly never expected him to pull some crazy ass crap like that. It just goes to show you that you never really know what another person is capable of.

Jordan's mom looks up, suddenly skewering me with eyes that are just as greenish-gold as her daughter's. There's something so delicate and fragile looking about this woman that it instantly makes me want to gather her into my arms and protect her. In a completely non-MILF sort of way, of course. In all honesty, I'm not quite sure what to make of these strange feelings flooding through me. I'm starting to wonder what these Whitnall women are doing to me... There certainly doesn't seem to be any point in denying that Jordan has changed me. Maybe even for the better. Although the jury is still out on that one.

"So again, thank you, Parker. Thank you for being in the right place at the right time."

Well, I'd like to think that it was a little more than that... After all, it's not like I just so happened to randomly stumble into that room Saturday night. No, I was on a search and rescue mission.

Which then turned into a- let's kick Hartley's ass mission.

Yep, successful on all fronts.

"It's no problem, Mrs. Whitnall. I like Jordan, she's pretty cool." By the way, that's guy speak for-
I really, really like your daughter.
Like... naked-hug-like-her. But first we need to get this whole moving situation straightened out... Because, yeah, I still haven't forgotten about that.

My words have her lips tugging upwards at the corners. "I'm so glad she has a friend like you to look out for her."

Maybe it's just me, but I'm starting to get the feeling that this woman is totally clueless about Jordan and I being together. Which seems kind of strange now that I think about it, especially after everything that went down on Saturday night. You'd think Jordan would have said something to her parents. Maybe something like-
My super-hot, incredibly sexy, stud muffin of a new boyfriend just rescued me single handedly from this horrible guy who I had the incredibly bad judgment to date.
You know, something along those lines. But apparently not...

"Yeah, Jordan's great." Then I add, "I'm glad we hooked up-"

Her brows knit together before I add quickly, "So she could help me with my classes. She's a real brainiac."

"Yes, Jordan's very bright." She nods before adding somewhat sadly, "She's been doing so well in her classes this fall, finally starting to feel at home here. It's probably for the best that her father was transferred back to Boston last month."

Umm, what?

"Did you say
last month
?"

"Yes, we found out about five weeks ago. After what happened this wekend, I just hope for Jordan’s sake that she has a smooth transition back to her old school at semester time." Her brows draw together in confusion. "Didn't she tell you about her dad being transferred?"

"Ah, no. She didn't mention it."

Nope, she certainly didn't bother telling me anything about moving back to Boston. Unfortunately that's when Marissa's words start to reverberate throughout my head again.
Is
it possible that she's been stringing me along this whole time? Has this all been some sort of game to her? Is Jordan really capable of that?

Wow... I guess I really don't mean a damn thing to her. Otherwise she would have told me about this. Like a month ago. God, I am such a gigantic asshat.

And here I was thinking that we had something real, something
meaningful,
between us. At least the start of it anyway.

Talk about ironic. I guess the joke's on me.

Jordan must be laughing her ass off at how easily I fell for her. Hook, line, and sinker.

"Well," Mrs. Whitnall brightens into a smile again, "I'm sure she would have told you. I suppose you’ll have to find another tutor for the spring semester. My sister, Ms. Fisk, will be able to help you with that. Don't tell her I said so, but I think you're one of her favorite students."

I don't even bother responding to that little bit of ludicrousness.
Favorite student indeed. Ha!
I don't think so. More like favorite student to torment.

"Yeah, I'm sure she can." Except there's absolutely no way in hell I'm letting that woman set me up with another tutor. I'm done with tutors. And maybe even with chicks. We both hear the water from the shower upstairs stop running but I just can't face Jordan right now. In fact, all I want to do is get the hell out of this damn house. I can't get over the fact that I've been played.

I don't even realize that I've stood up until she says, "Parker? Is something wrong?"

"Um, yeah- I mean- no. It's just that my lunch is almost over and I need to get back for fifth hour." Although school is the absolute last place I want to be. Actually make that second last place I want to be.

"Well it was so nice of you to stop by. I'm really glad I got the chance to thank you in person for what you did. Here, let me walk you out."

As my feet shuffle forward, my mind tumbles back to Saturday night and the complete perfectness of holding Jordan in my arms as we sat in the front seat of my truck. We spent almost an hour just talking and kissing. It felt... well... it felt amazing.  Like nothing I'd ever experienced before. And now... now I realize that it meant absolutely nothing to her.