More than Friends - Monica Murphy (16 page)

But I persist and he eventually lets me tape him, all the while giving me some tips and asking a few personal questions—though nothing
too
personal. He may act like a total dog with the girls, but he’s actually kind of sweet. And he’s also very passionate about football.

And Jordan? He acts like his normal untouchable self. He paces the sidelines, growls at the defense. Oh, and he also growls at his offensive line too, because he’s an equal opportunity growler. He tosses water bottles and slaps guys on the back or the butt and he never, ever wants anyone to step in for him when it’s his turn out on the field.

You’d think the coach would get this by now.

I don’t bother trying to talk to him because that wall is up so high, there’s no way I’m penetrating it. Not right now. The score has remained close through all three quarters. Now we’re in the fourth and final quarter and I’m nervous as crap, bouncing my leg so hard I’m making the entire bench vibrate.

The cheerleaders start up a chant about holding that line and I hate to tell them, but they’re off—we’re currently playing offense. They probably wouldn’t appreciate my correction.

It’s hard not to cover my eyes while watching Jordan play. Not that he’s awful—he’s the farthest thing from it. It’s more that I’m totally nervous. He throws the ball and I’m terrified someone from the opposing team will intercept it. Or one of our players will drop it. We need this last touchdown. It will most likely ensure our win.

But the home team’s crowd is roaring loudly, trying to distract us. They don’t want their team to lose. Though guess what?

We don’t want
our
team to lose either.

I perch on the edge of the bench as Jordan drives the ball down the field. Coach Halsey is eerily calm as he watches, his expression blank, his gaze never leaving that field. I nibble on my thumb, fighting the nerves that threaten to overload me. Kyla’s pacing, looking at a loss, but that’s because no one wants to be hydrated right now. Everyone’s too tense.

When Ryan catches the pass and runs it into the end zone, I leap from the bench, bouncing up and down, screaming at the top of my lungs. I can hear everyone in the visitor stands behind me yelling and cheering. The cheerleaders are squealing and chanting Ryan’s name.

Jordan runs up to Ryan and they high five, then Jordan slaps his hand against the back of Ryan’s helmet and pulls him in close, knocking their helmets together. I can tell he’s saying something, but what? I wish I knew.

The kicker comes out and they line up to go for that point, and of course they get it. The lead is solid and with what time remains on the clock, the game is essentially over. Our boys won.

I hand out water as the boys pass by and a few of them take the bottles, squirting the water all over their heads after they take the helmets off. They’re in good spirits and I congratulate them all, laughing when they say something funny. They’ve been nice to me, every one of them, and even Ryan comes up to me and tells me, “Good job,” before he slaps me on the back and jogs off.

When I see Jordan approach, I busy myself with cleaning up the portable water station, stashing the empty water bottles in their carriers, doing what Kyla tells me to. I feel him drawing closer, but I won’t look up. Not yet. My entire body prickles with awareness and I go completely still.

“So, what did you think?”

Glancing up, I meet his gaze. He’s a sweaty, dirty mess. He’s clutching his helmet in one hand and his hair is standing up on end. The black lines under his eyes are smudged and there’s a giant grass stain streaked across his chest from when he got tackled earlier. He’d fallen hard and I’d leapt to my feet when it first happened, my heart racing so fast I thought it would gallop right out of my chest.

“You played great,” I tell him, offering him a tiny smile. “Congratulations on the win.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me closer, his gaze unwavering. “I played for you.” His voice is achingly sincere, and I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat.

“Jordan…”

He cuts off my protest with a kiss. It’s soft and sweet and so fast, I almost think it didn’t happen, but the satisfied gleam in his eyes tells me it did. “You need to wear my number next time.”

“Huh?” I’m in a daze over his lips connecting with mine. We’ve kissed plenty of times in the past, but it’s been a while. And his lips have always had a way of rendering me senseless.

He points to the number eight on his chest. “I can give you an old jersey if you want.”

“I’m supposed to wear this.” I point at the navy blue polo that Kyla gave me to wear. She has on a matching one.

“I want to see my number on you.” The possessive gleam in his eyes sort of turns me on.

“But—“ Without warning he tugs me in close, his mouth at my ear, his breath so hot I shiver.

“Stop pretending this isn’t happening, Amanda. I’m tired of fighting it.” He kisses my ear, the sensitive spot just behind it, and I sag against him.

He’s right. I’m tired of fighting it.

I’m ready to give in.

The bus ride to the game had been loud and chaotic. The cheerleaders were obnoxious, squealing and yelling and shooting lusty glances in the players’ directions. Coach Halsey kept trying to give the boys “let’s get pumped up” speeches, and they worked. They sounded like roaring beasts ready to unleash and conquer by the time we pulled into the opposing school’s parking lot. I even had the fleeting thought that I needed to bring my ear buds next week so I could avoid the noise and listen to music.

The ride home is completely different. It’s quiet and dark in the bus. Most everyone is worn out and there’s not much talking. I do see a lot of faces illuminated by the glow of their phones.

I sit with Jordan, his legs spread wide in that way boys like to sit, taking up all the space, but with him, I don’t mind. His knee is pressed against mine and he has his arm slung over my shoulders casually, his big hand lightly gripping my upper arm. I feel…owned. He’s declaring to everyone on this bus that he wants to be with me, and I bask in his attention.

“Yo, Tuttle.” It’s Ryan.

Jordan leans his head against the wall of the bus for a moment, closing his eyes. “What?” He sounds irritated.

“You having a party at your house?”

Oh. Is he? I can’t remember the last time he had one. It’s been a few weeks. I turn to watch him, noting how thick his eyelashes are when his eyes are closed. He is too pretty for words. I can’t help the little sigh that escapes me.

He cracks his eyes open. “You don’t want me to have them over, do you.” It’s a statement, not a question.

I want him all to myself, but I can’t say that out loud. Can I? “Only if you want to.”

“No party tonight,” he calls out, and they answer him with groans and protests. But he ignores them. He just focuses on me, pulling me in closer so I’m snug against him. His lips press against my forehead and I close my eyes, sitting with him, soaking him up. His scent, his warmth, his strength.

“Are you sure?” I finally ask, my voice soft and only for him.

“I want to be alone with you.”

My heart drops, then picks up speed again. We’ve been alone plenty of times, but usually with other people in the house. Namely Livvy, who I could always text and say,
get me out of here
, and she would rescue me every single time.

I pull away from him so I can look into his eyes. “Are your parents home?”

He makes a face. “When are they ever home?”

Never. I know they’re busy and they work a lot, but they’re never around for their son. Ever. “I don’t know…”

“I’ll have you home by your curfew,” he murmurs. “Promise. Just say yes.”

“Yes,” I tell him, and his eyes light up, though he doesn’t smile.

He kisses me gently on the lips instead. So gentle, my entire body tingles in anticipation. I know what that mouth can do. I know what his hands can do as well. Not that we’ve taken it too terribly far, but we’ve done a few things. I’ve let him touch me in certain places. But I’d always push him off if we got too carried away, scared he’d use me and leave me.

Like he does to all the other girls.

The rest of the ride home we’re quiet, and I get lost in my thoughts. I’m excited and scared for what might happen next. Will he take me to his room? Or will we watch TV? A movie? Maybe hang out outside? The Tuttle backyard is amazing. I don’t know what we’ll do, but I will soon find out.

Once we arrive on campus, we unload in the school parking lot, Jordan taking my hand the moment we’re off the bus.

“I have to drop off my equipment in the locker room before I leave.” He glances around the lot. “Where’s your car?”

“My dad brought me. My brother had to borrow my car tonight. He’s home for the weekend.” I’m terrified he’ll try and take it back with him to college and then I’ll be out of a car for good. I can’t afford for that to happen. I need the car to get to my job. I can’t rely on the kindness of strangers to always give me a ride.

“Is he going to pick you up?” Jordan frowns.

“No, I texted him and let him know I had a ride.” I smile and poke him in the ribs. “That would be you.”

He grabs my hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He leaves before I can say anything else.

I lean against a nearby ledge and check my phone, though I don’t have any text messages. There are a few random Snapchats, including one from Livvy that’s part of her story. A photo of her kissing Ryan’s cheek out on the football field right after the game, it’s captioned “my boo,” accompanied by a bunch of heart-eyes emojis. It makes me happy to see her acknowledging Ryan and not stressing over Dustin.

“You really think he likes her?”

I lift my head when I hear the question, though I don’t see anyone else around.

“Of course not. It’s just a phase. Like she’s worthy of Tuttle. Have you ever really looked at her? She’s so plain and boring.”

“They looked pretty cozy on the bus. He had his arm around her. I saw him kiss her too.”

“Please. I don’t know why he’s doing this. Maybe he’s slumming it? Oh!” Lauren Mancini and her gang suddenly appear, Brianne Brown one of them. The shocked look on Lauren’s face is totally fake. She knew I was close by. She made sure to say all of those mean things on purpose.

And I can’t deny hearing them talk about me cut like a knife.

I cross my arms and glare at her, but otherwise don’t say a word.

“Oops. Guess you overheard us, huh?” Lauren giggles, and so do the rest of her friends.

I remain quiet. What can I say? They’ll tear me apart no matter what. I can’t win with this group.

“What, can’t bother to defend yourself since deep down inside, you know we’re speaking the truth?” Lauren’s perfectly arched brows rise. “Whatever you’re doing with Jordan Tuttle, it’s going to end badly. For you.”

She’s right. I’m sure she’s right. It’s why I avoided him in the first place. Why I pushed him away when he tried to take it further. Here I go again, allowing him to get closer, yet I still don’t know much about him. He’s so secretive. Not much of a talker. I think I want to know more, but do I really?

Why should I bother if all it’s going to get me is grief and heartache?

A car pulls up and Livvy leaps out of the passenger side, running toward me with a big smile on her face. She skids to a stop when she spots Lauren and the rest of her gang and the smile fades.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks.

“Nothing important.” Lauren beams. “Gearing up to give Ryan an extra good blowjob for winning tonight, huh? I’m sure that’s his favorite way to see you—on your knees.” They all start cracking up.

Livvy glares, her eyes lingering on Brianne Brown. Of course. “At least I have a gorgeous boyfriend who wants me to suck his dick, unlike you,” she says to Lauren. The sharp gasps that ring through the air make Liv laugh. She takes my hand. “Come on, Amanda. Let’s ditch these bitches.”

I let Livvy pull me away from Lauren and her mean girls, but I start dragging my feet when she doesn’t stop. “I can’t leave. I promised Jordan.”

“Are you two getting together tonight?” Livvy sucks in a surprised breath. “How exciting! Are you gonna hang out? Go to dinner or something?”