10. Jordan
CHAPTER 10
JORDAN
Y ou know how in The Little Mermaid , the girl with the red hair has to give up her voice to win the prince? And Cinderella only has until midnight? And Pocahontas has to stop a war or something? I saw a lot of these movies in the rec room at the YMCA. Needless to say, most of the plots and details didn’t stick with me, but what I did gather is that there’s always some sort of catch. They can’t just be happy. There’s fine print or a magic timer or an evil witch that makes the path a little rocky. So maybe I should be questioning what bomb is about to drop out of the sky on me ’cause right now, I’m just happy.
I’m sitting on a loveseat that is most definitely from Goodwill, with Lucy snuggled into my side. I’m not sure how it happened. There’s a concrete possibility that her friends are masterminding this entire thing. I wouldn’t even be mad if they were. We were the last two people without a spot, and this was the last place left.
So here we are. Who am I to question why? Her head is on my shoulder, knees scrunched up over my lap. We’re watching a movie called The Prince and Me —which, I was adamantly told, counts as a Thanksgiving-themed movie because the secret prince goes home with the farm girl for Thanksgiving.
Apparently, it’s vitally important to keep the evening on theme.
I couldn't care less.
I might not even notice if they changed the movie halfway through.
My senses are on high alert as I smell Lucy’s lavender perfume. Her blonde hair is flowing down her back, and she’s still wearing her gravy vest. Every time she shifts positions, she nestles closer.
I wish you could bottle up a moment and sip it throughout the rest of your life whenever you have a bad day because this might be that moment for me.
My state of bliss is interrupted when AJ walks out of the kitchen looking disappointed. “We forgot the popcorn. Like a bunch of uncultured morons.”
Kya pauses the movie, and to my great disappointment, Lucy stands up. Dang, I really wish that moment-bottling thing was real. “I’ll walk down the street and grab some.” She checks her watch. “They’re definitely still open. It’ll only take me a few minutes. Don’t stop the movie–I’ve probably seen this at least twenty times.”
Everyone settles back into their respective spots around the TV as Lucy puts on shoes and a jacket. I follow her lead.
“Hey, I’ll come with you.”
I whisper so as not to disturb the movie. Lucy just smiles and nods before wrapping a red-and-white checkered scarf around her neck. Did she just Google “things to do and wear to make you the cutest person alive” and then proceed to complete the list? Between the scarf and the snuggling, I’m a goner.
As I follow her out the door, I briefly catch AJ’s eye. She just smiles and winks at me before turning her attention back to the TV. Dang, these girls are good. I’m starting to wonder if that kitchen really is as popcorn-less as she made it out to be.
_____________
If I thought snuggling with Lucy was good, having a relaxed conversation with her might be even better. Somewhere over the course of the last twenty-four hours, I broke through the exterior. Here I am with yet another version of her–the comfortable one, apparently–and it’s just as endearing as every other facet of her personality.
I get to hear her nerd out about her favorite TV shows and rom-coms, her love of Harry Potter, and why the Midwest is the best place to live–in case you’re wondering, it’s because it’s necessary to experience all four seasons. She then asks me, with genuine curiosity, what books I like, and I have to burst her bubble. I haven’t read a book in a long time. She seems unfazed, though, and proceeds to give me a laundry list of books she wants to loan me.
It might be the first time in my life I’m actually looking forward to an assignment.
I continue asking her about her life, mainly because I want more of this excitedly animated version of her, but also because answering questions about my own life is tricky.
And oftentimes awkward.
We’re just checking out with a box of microwave popcorn when I hear a high-pitched voice behind us.
“Oh, my gosh. Lucy!”
Lucy inhales sharply with her eyes closed. Her whole body tenses up, but she plasters on a fake smile and turns around. “Hey, Sasha. Whatcha up to?”
I grab our bag and turn to see Sasha Pierson, another member of the women’s basketball team, walking toward us with what can only be described as a manic grin on her face. She’s wearing a sports bra and Spandex–which makes no sense in this weather–and I intentionally don’t let my gaze go below her eyes.
“Lucy and Jordan? Talk about a power couple. Gahh … so, so cute, you guys–especially for you, Lucy. I mean, you barely have any experience in relationships at all. When did this start?”
Her overly loud and overtly condescending tone is drawing looks from others in the store, and Lucy’s face is turning redder by the second. The fact that there are people in the real world who talk like this is genuinely mind-blowing.
I try to intervene. “Hi. I don't think we’ve met yet. I’m Jordan.”
I stick my hand out, and she caresses my fingers as she slides her hand into mine. I’m pretty sure she’s batting her eyelashes as she holds on for way too long.
“Oh, of course I know who you are.”
She looks me up and down like she’s evaluating a show pony. I think it’s an attempt to be sexy, but I’m just creeped out. I break off the handshake and clear my throat.
“Well, we’d better be heading out.”
She nods way too many times and then turns back to Lucy, who looks like she would love nothing more than to disappear into the floorboards. This is certainly a version of Lucy I have never seen.
“All right, Lucy, have fun–but not too much fun. Wouldn’t want anything to derail the season, right? Gosh, last year was such a disappointment.”
She holds out that last word like she wants to be sure Lucy hears every syllable. It’s blatantly obvious that she would love nothing more than for something to derail Lucy’s season again.
There’s some history here .
Lucy’s face is blank. She opens her mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a single word. “Yeah…”
I can feel my anger build as I watch Sasha revel in Lucy’s embarrassment. Lucy may not be great at this whole “passive-aggressive mean girl” thing, but I’m willing to play the game. I put my arm over Lucy’s shoulders and smile down at her adoringly.
“Future player of the year right here. How fun is it to be teammates with Lucy, Sami?”
Sasha’s eyes narrow. “It’s Sasha.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Anyway, does it get frustrating to have to play against her every day ? A player so dominant, I mean, come on. Let someone else win for a change.”
Sasha forces out a laugh, but her eyes have turned deadly.
I’m not done yet.
One of the guys mentioned that Sasha’s parents are major donors to the school–the new nutrition facility attached to the arena is called the Pierson Wing. Apparently this is how she got a spot on the team–she wasn’t good enough to get recruited and she doesn’t play at all, but strings were pulled to ensure that these donors were kept happy.
Time to put this intel to good use.
“But man, Lucy earns it. I’ve heard people say she’s the hardest-working athlete at this school. I believe it. No one is in the gym more than she is. I just love how everything she’s gotten is so earned and well-deserved.”
Sasha might as well have steam coming out of her head now. To her credit, the smile is still there. But now, rather than any sort of charming, it is more akin to the smile of a shark before it rips your arm off–I would imagine. Thankfully, I’ve never found myself face-to-face with a shark.
Until this moment, apparently.
I pull Lucy toward the door and can’t help but turn back for one more delicious moment. “It was so nice to meet you, umm—” I snap my fingers like I’m trying to remember her name.
“Sasha.” She spits it at me this time.
“Gah, that’s right. Nice to meet you.”
We stroll down the sidewalk, my arm still over Lucy’s shoulders. When we get out of view of the store, Lucy stops abruptly and throws her arms around me, nuzzling her face into my neck. When she looks up at me, her doe eyes have tears threatening to make an appearance, but her expression is one of pure relief.
“I don’t know if I will ever be able to thank you enough for that.”
I just chuckle. “Please tell me she deserved that. ’Cause if not, I’m going to feel like a huge asshole. But also, I’ve heard enough about her, and the way she spoke to you…yeah, I wasn’t going to let that slide.”
We keep walking–or in Lucy’s case, floating. She chooses her words carefully as we crunch over the fallen leaves.
“In short, yes, it was pretty well-deserved. Sasha is…”
Shaking her head, she looks up at the sky. After a long pause, she explains.
“Sorry. It’s just … I don’t want to judge her unfairly. Or talk crap about her. Especially because you’re new and deserve to form your own opinions about people. Plus, she’s my teammate.”
I nod. “All of that is fair. But now tell me the truth.”
She gives me a sideways look and smirks. I know she’s holding out. “I will just say this: Sasha is the type of person to act insanely supportive or buddy-buddy in public. On social media or when we go out, you would guess that we are the best of friends. But behind closed doors… the tune changes drastically.”
I mull this over as we walk. There’s more to the story that she isn’t saying.
“So, what did she do to you? ”
“Why do you assume she did something to me personally?”
Now I need to be careful with my words. “I know I don’t know you that well, but I’ve never seen you react to someone the way you reacted to her. It was like your fight-or-flight response was kicking in. I could almost feel how nervous you were to have her see us together.”
Glancing over to ensure my words landed okay, I see Lucy biting her lip. I know now isn’t the time, but damn if that isn’t super-hot. I want to run my finger over her lip and then bite it softly myself. My blood is pumping a little harder now, and only Lucy’s troubled tone snaps me out of my fantasy.
“We were roommates freshman year. I genuinely thought we were friends. I told her all about my dad dying and how difficult that whole time was.”
Her voice catches.
“But I was playing a lot, and she was riding the bench. I guess this was enough for her to turn on me. I was walking back to our room one day after class and I heard her talking to a couple of our teammates about how bad she felt for me. She said I was a huge suck-up and that’s the only reason I played, and it’s so embarrassing that I’m that desperate.”
A tear falls down her cheek. I realize my arm isn’t on her shoulders anymore, so I grab her hand and squeeze. She continues.
“She also blamed me for our losses, called me selfish…there was a lot. That’s when the passive-aggressive comments at practice began, too. I hadn’t had an anxiety attack since the months after my dad died, but they started happening again. I was terrified that if I messed up, the whole team would turn against me and I’d lose my scholarship. As a freshman, you don’t quite feel like you belong yet anyway.”
At this point, I feel Lucy’s hand shaking in mine. Or maybe I’m the one shaking. My jaw is clenched so hard, I might crack a tooth .
Who does Sasha think she is?
Lucy laughs bitterly. “I wish I was tougher and could let things like this just roll off my back. But when I walk into a room of my teammates and everyone abruptly goes silent, it’s hard not to start panicking.”
Damn, girls are brutal.
“I started meeting with a therapist and a sports psychologist. That was a game-changer for me. That experience set me on the path to pursue a degree in sports psychology. I want to help other athletes the way I was helped.” This thought finally helps her crack a small smile. “Since then, I’ve had teammates start sticking up for me. They’ve even offered to tell our coach, but I don’t want to be at the center of drama. I doubt my coach could even do anything anyway. I mean, you can’t bite the hand that feeds you.” She slaps her palm over her mouth. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Lucy, relax. I know she’s only on the team because her parents are donors. It’s like the school’s worst-kept secret.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, she leads me up the walkway to her house. Now it’s my turn to laugh.
“I really hope what I just did doesn’t create some new problems for you.”
Shrugging, she turns to face me. “Can’t be any worse than what she’s already said about me.”
Then, standing up on her tiptoes, she whispers in my ear. “Regardless, it’s totally worth it.”
Her lips briefly brush my cheek before she opens the door and steps back inside.