Catching Jordan (Hundred Oaks #1)

Catching Jordan (Hundred Oaks #1) Page 19

“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-toface, 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.

“’Cause people were talking about me in the hal way.”

“So?”

“So that’s never happened to me before.”

Henry pul s me in closer and rubs my arm as I go on.

“I don’t want to lose the team’s respect. If I lose my confidence, I’m going to play like shit, and shitty players don’t get offered spots on Division I teams like Alabama.”

His eyes focus on mine and we stare at each other for a while. With his tan skin and emerald eyes, Henry is an extremely cute guy, and it occurs to me how many girls at school would love to find themselves in a potting shed with him. Then he says, “Want to play the hand-slap game?”

I sit Indian-style and Henry mimics me. He puts his hands out toward me, palms up. I place my hands on top of his. A second later, he yanks his hands out from beneath mine and tries to smack the tops of my hands, but I jerk away.

“Winner gets the footbal charm, right?” I ask, nodding at his chest.

“Hel no,” Henry replies, not missing a beat. He puts his hands back out, and we play several more times before he speaks again. “Today, in music appreciation class, Mr. Majors said we al have to choose an instrument and write a five-page paper about its origins. We also have to discuss the instrument’s relevance in today’s society. But don’t worry, I signed you up for a great instrument.”

“What?”

“The harpsichord.”

“What the hel is a harpsichord?” I exclaim.

“I dunno,” he says, smiling. “I saw it on a poster in the classroom.”

“You must be kidding. How could an instrument I’ve never heard of have any relevance in today’s society?”

“These things wouldn’t happen if you didn’t skip school.”

“What the hel , man? What instrument did you pick?”

“What the hel , man? What instrument did you pick?”

He shrugs. “An instrument that has a lot of relevance in today’s society. The guitar.”

I grin, slapping his hands hard. We play several more times, and I win more often than he does, which makes me happier.

“Woods, it’s okay to get involved with someone. You can date, you know.” Instead of smacking Henry’s hands again, I smack him upside the head. “Damn it,”

he exclaims, laughing. “Stop beating me up. Look, I’m gonna tel you something, because you’re my best friend. Underneath that crazy knot you cal hair, al us guys know you’re real y a girl, and we want you to be happy.”

I knock him in the shoulder.

“I’m being serious, Jordan. I don’t know what you’re so scared of. I know you like Ty, and it’s obvious he likes you, and you’re al pushing him away…you’re final y acting like a girl.”

I glare at Henry.

“And it’s not a bad thing,” he adds.

“Ty and I are on the same team, Sam.”

“I don’t care.”

“Dating him wil cause drama.”

“It seems to me that not dating him is what’s causing the drama…you not showing up for practice, my ass…

Coach was worried and pissed, to be honest—he tried cal ing, but got your voice mail.” Henry stretches his palms back out for another round of the hand-slap game. I put my hands beneath his and two seconds later, I swiftly jerk my hands out and slap his hands hard.

“So what do you think?” Henry asks.

“Sam…if I date him, no one’s going to think I’m, like, a slut or anything, are they?”

“Of course not…because I think you have to sleep with more than one person, possibly several, to be considered a slut.”

“You would know,” I reply with a laugh.

He clutches at his chest, but then says, “I’m proud to be a man-slut.”

“Why do you guys have to sleep around al the time?

Why can’t you just stay with one person?”

Henry slaps my hands, then runs his hands through his hair and stares at a bag of mulch. “I dunno…maybe I just haven’t gotten with the right person yet. It’s kind of hard to stop.”

“To stop sleeping around?”

He nods.

“I just don’t get that, Henry.”

He keeps focusing on the mulch. “Why would you ever think you’re a slut?”

I grab his hands and hold them tightly. Biting my lip, I find his eyes. “I, um, heard Lacey and Kristen talking bad about me in the bathroom today. They wondered if I’m a slut…”

“They’re just jealous of you, Woods. Why would you care what those girls think?”

I take a deep breath. “They also said the only reason Ty’s interested in me is ’cause he wants to take my virginity, and that scares me…’cause I almost gave it to him the other night.”

Henry shuts his eyes for a sec. “That’s a lie. He cares a lot about you.”

“How do you know?”

“You don’t think JJ, Carter, and I had a talk with him?”

“You didn’t.”

“Did.”

“Oh Jesus…”

“Woods, answer me…are you going to give Ty a chance?”

I feel scared. I don’t want the whole school talking about me and Ty. I don’t want anyone cal ing me a slut. As captain of the footbal team, I can’t lose the respect of the guys I lead. But my brother and Henry are also of the guys I lead. But my brother and Henry are also right—a vision of me as a thirty-year-old virgin hasbeen quarterback flashes in my mind. I shudder. There must be a way for me to be both Ty’s girlfriend and the star of the footbal team. Can’t I have both?

I mean, the guys watched me do that ridiculous photo shoot and stil respected me afterward.

“Okay,” I whisper. “I’l give him a chance.”

“That’s al I needed to know,” Henry says. He kisses my forehead, jumps to his feet, and stretches out a hand. “Come on.”

We walk outside the potting shed, into a warm pink dusk, and I see Ty standing over next to the tire swing that hangs from an old ash tree. A breeze whips through the grass as I start making my way over to him.

“See you, Woods,” Henry says, pul ing his keys from his pocket.

“You’re not staying for dinner?”

“No, I have a study date with Savannah Bailey. But Ty wil stay.”

Henry disappears around the side of the house to the driveway, and I head over to Ty.

Smiling, he pushes the tire swing toward me, and I catch it and force it away from us. Then I hurl myself at him and he pul s me into his arms beneath the dripping green leaves.

I let him kiss me.

I’m losing myself again, losing track of everything that’s important to me. And the thought of that scares me too. I don’t want to become one of those girls who loses al control and perspective because of a guy, but even this thought, this warning to myself, is being pushed out of my mind by Ty and his hands and his lips.

He whispers, “Let’s go to your room.”

Our clothes are starting to come off.

Mom’s volunteering at the hospital, and Dad’s stil at practice, but I’m not taking any chances. “Ty, hold up,” I say, hopping out of bed.