More than Friends - Monica Murphy (29 page)

But when I want to, I can be stubborn. For some twisted reason, I want him to reach out to me. It should be Jordan who makes the next move. I don’t want to look like I’m chasing after him. I don’t want to look desperate. I’m sure that’s what about a million other girls have done with him in the past. I don’t want him to think I’m like all the rest.

I want to be different. Special. Especially after everything we shared Saturday night…

Um, wow. That had been a major moment. We didn’t have actual sex, but it was close enough. I’ve never been that naked—literally—with a boy before. And we were naked. I had my mouth on his…

God. I can’t even think it, let alone say it out loud. I tried to do my best, but half of the time it felt awkward, though he certainly never protested. Did I drive him away with my lack of skills? He definitely didn’t complain while it happened. Or afterward either. Yet I feel like I messed up, or worse...

I feel like every other girl he’s been with. And eventually dumped.

I can’t think about it too much, though. If I do, I’ll just end up sad. Depressed.

Devastated.

So yeah. I sent Tuttle a Snapchat Sunday morning and he never replied. I’m worried about him, about us, yet there are so many things I need to focus on right now. I saw my counselor yesterday afternoon and she gave me the fattest packet of scholarship and grant forms I’d ever seen. Plus she handed over a list of website URLs that are full of lesser-known scholarships. My eyes crossed just thinking about all the forms I’ll need to fill out. And we’re barely into October.

I tell myself I don’t have time to worry about Jordan. I don’t have time to worry about anything. I need to be on autopilot and just work through one thing after another. Going to class, picking up the pace at yearbook, afterschool water girl duty, Friday night game water girl duty, working, homework, college applications, scholarship applications, helping out at home…

The list is endless. The more I don’t see Jordan, the more I realize I don’t need a boyfriend. Or even a guy I occasionally see. He’s a distraction.

A distraction who will get me off track if I don’t watch it.

But I miss him. My heart aches without him around. Without hearing his voice, seeing his rare smiles, feeling his hands on me. I miss everything about him, and it sucks because he doesn’t seem to miss me at all.

It’s like I don’t matter to him. Like I never mattered.

It’s Wednesday afternoon right after lunch when I pop my locker open and a note folded into a perfect rectangle falls out, landing on the floor. I grab it and open the note with trembling fingers. It’s handwritten instead of typed, and I know from the moment I read the first word it’s from Jordan, and it’s part of our English assignment. I still haven’t shared my entry with him yet.

Where once I said my heart was made of wondrous light, now it is dark. Heavy. Angry. For only she can bring me light, and now that I’ve lost her, the light is gone. Banished.

She is the only one who can make me feel, but without her, I am numb. We were young and stupid, and if I could go back in time and change my actions, I would.

But I can’t. A foolish heart beats like no other, and mine is the most foolish of hearts. The damage has been done. I have lost the girl.

Yet she will never lose me. Not if she looks deep inside her heart.

For now, I hold onto my dreams. For now, I hope for more wondrous light. I hope for my love to come back into my life.

For now, I hold onto Juliet.

My heart breaks at his words. This entry is short but pointed. He writes these things and they feel so real. I’ve poured my real feelings for him into my diary entries and can’t help but think he must do the same.

Carefully refolding the note, I stash it into the front pocket of my backpack and start heading to class. He must be here. He has to be, since I got the note. This means I will see him in English.

The nervous energy starts pouring through my body, making me jittery. And that has nothing to do with the giant Coke I drank during lunch. It’s brought on by the mere thought of possibly being with Jordan.

And a few minutes later, when I’m making my way toward the classroom and I actually
see
Jordan, standing to the side and looking down the hall like he’s waiting for me, I slow my pace. Try my best to look nonchalant. Like I haven’t been anxiously searching for him for days.

When he spots me, the faintest smile curls his perfect lips, his gaze never leaving me as I approach.

Everything comes rushing back. He has that cool, calm Jordan Tuttle aura going on, and all I can see is that one moment when I made him lose control on Saturday night. The way he groaned my name. How he hauled me into his arms when it was over, his body still trembling, his mouth on mine, our naked bodies entwined.

I’m flushed just thinking about it. But I need to remain chill. That is my number one goal.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” I say, hip checking him when he falls into step beside me. I hope I sound casual, but it’s so difficult. What I really want is to ask him a ton of questions. But that turns me into the needy girlfriend, and I’m positive he doesn’t like that sort of thing.

He grabs hold of me, his arm sneaking around my waist. “Missed you,” he murmurs as he presses his face into my hair, quickly kissing my temple.

I smile, hoping I seem mysterious. Like nothing bothers me. “Where have you been?”

His gaze goes vacant as he stares straight ahead. “Family stuff. Nothing to worry about, though. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Naturally, I’m worried. It felt like he just…disappeared, and now he’s back, like he was never gone.

The way he’s acting, it’s weird.

“You’re okay?”

“Oh yeah.” He glances down at me. “You read my note?”

“Yeah. It was good,” I say softly, wondering if he can see all the emotion I feel for him shining in my eyes. I shouldn’t show my cards, but being this close to him, having him touch me, it renders me helpless.

I think he knows it, too.

“I’m not finished with that entry yet. Have you written yours?”

“I have.”

“You should share it with me.”

“I will, in class.” Ugh, I sort of don’t want to, but I will. Maybe I should demand he spill before I let him read my entry. Though that’s catty and stupid, and I refuse to act that way around him.

Jordan releases his hold on me as we walk into the classroom, and I’m relieved to see Mrs. Meyer is back. She runs through attendance, coughs a little, pops a Halls and then asks that we quietly work on our projects. “The first part is due this Friday.”

A few groans fill the room, but otherwise we’re quiet. Well, except for me. I raise my hand.

“Miss Winters?”

I drop my hand. “How many entries should we have by the time we turn in the first part?”

“At least five each,” Mrs. Meyer says with a faint smile.

Crap. My heart sinks. I only have three and I want to work on the last one some more. Plus, I have to help with practice after school, and we have a game Friday. Thank God I don’t work at Yo Town again until Sunday afternoon, and only for four hours.

Once Mrs. Meyer answers a few slightly panicked questions, we all assemble with our partners. I pull the second diary entry I never let him read last week out of my backpack and hand it to Jordan.

“Please be honest,” I tell him. “Tell me if it’s awful or not. I really want this to shine and impress Mrs. Meyer.”

“You’re a good writer,” he says, taking the paper from me. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

I loom over his shoulder and read my words along with him.

Lo, my life is over before it’s truly begun. From what passion for him burns so bright to turn so cold overnight. He shone upon me like the brightest star, and I was his ever faithful moon. Until without notice my star was snuffed out, along with the others, one by one. I was left a cold, dark and lonely moon. Faithful and present, yet lost and forgotten.

Will he find me again? Will he shine his light upon me and warm me up? Or am I forever doomed to go this alone?

He’s quiet for a moment, as if he’s taking the time to absorb my words, and I start to fidget. “Well?” The word bursts out of me like a bullet.

Jordan turns to look at me. “It’s sad.”

“Romeo and Juliet’s relationship is the ultimate in sadness,” I remind him.

“I know.” He glances at the paper once more, his gaze lingering. “Their relationship was also passionate,” he reminds me.

“Passion only lasts for so long, especially with those two. They are a prime example that you cannot sustain a relationship based merely on passion.” I sound like I’m totally down on love, and right now, I sort of am.

“You really believe that?” He raises a brow.

I don’t know what to believe. Or what to think either. These mixed signals Jordan’s sending in my direction are playing havoc on my heart and my mind. I thought what happened between us this past weekend would’ve brought us closer together, but instead I feel like Jordan has pulled away from me and become almost—distant.

“Yes,” I say softly.

He says nothing for a moment. Just busies himself with pulling his iPad out of his backpack and turning it on. I do the same, telling myself I need to write the next entry, maybe two while we’re in class, but I can’t help sneaking glances at Jordan. Wondering what he’s been doing the last few days. He claims it was family business, but what? I don’t know what’s going on. I just wish he would tell me something. More than anything, I wish he would include me in his plans and thoughts and hopes and dreams.

Okay, that last statement is over the top, but you get the gist.

“I went with my father to check out a college he wants me to go to,” Jordan says out of nowhere.

I look at him. “Where at?”

“Oregon, like I told you about. They want me. He’s pushing it hard. Tells me this is my chance.”

“Are you going to do it?”

Jordan’s gaze meets mine for the briefest moment. “I don’t know.”

I’m not sure what else I should say. He told me only a few days ago that he didn’t want to go. So what made him change his mind? Is that part of the reason why he’s acting so distant?

“Maybe we should work on our entries for the rest of class,” I tell him, keeping my voice low. All the other groups are chatting loudly, and I wish we were too. But everything feels so serious between us right now. I don’t like it.

Things aren’t right between us, and I don’t know how to fix it. I’m a fixer. It’s what I do. But this feels completely out of my control.

Truly? It’s pretty damn terrifying. What if he dumps me? Before we even had a chance to really become something?

“If that’s what you want,” he says, his gaze never straying from the iPad. I wish he’d look at me. I wish he’d talk to me.

But he won’t.

We remain quiet as we work, our arms occasionally bumping against each other’s since I’m a lefty and he’s a righty. I apologize so many times he finally tells me to stop, and because I’m PMSing and a little moody and miffed at his neglectful treatment, I get pissed.

I never claimed I was rational in Jordan’s presence, so none of you can hold my stupid behavior against me.

I look up Romeo and Juliet quotes on the web on my phone and highlight them, adding them to my notes section for future reference. Mrs. Meyer isn’t bothered by all of us using our phones and iPads as we work. She encourages us to use them most of the time, unless she catches one of us texting.

Of course, Livvy chooses this exact moment to text me like crazy.

You will not believe what happened.

Brianne Brown talked to me at lunch. Like chattered on and on as if we were best friends.

I couldn’t believe it. I had no witnesses either. None.

Where were you anyway?

She told me thank you for leaving Dustin alone so she could finally have a chance with him.

Can you imagine? Like I left him alone for her? Please.

He’s the one who avoided me.

I hate her.

A few minutes later…

Ryan and I had sex this weekend and guess what?

The condom broke.

I am freaking. OUT.

What if I get pregnant? I will DIE, A.

Die. Die. Die. I don’t care if Ryan makes cute babies.

Cuz you know he could. Look at him!!!

But seriously. The last thing I want is a baby.

She is so dramatic. And why didn’t she lead with the broken condom story? That’s way more dramatic than Brianne Brown thanking Livvy for letting her have at it with Dustin.

I’m about to text her back quickly, but she sends me another one.

I don’t even like kids. Having one of my own? Puke fest.

I don’t want them.