12. Jordan
CHAPTER 12
JORDAN
O ne thing has been made perfectly clear: Lucy will not be won easily.
The time we’ve spent together has revealed to me just how impressive she is. I’ve seen it on the court, but somehow she’s even more dynamic in real life. The way she cares for the people around her, her passion for her studies, her rants about topics I never thought I’d ever care about but somehow she draws me in and suddenly I’m invested–all of it makes me want more of her.
When you hear about a woman turning heads, Lucy should be the poster child. I’ve seen a lot of beautiful women over the course of my life, but Lucy’s beauty is almost ethereal. Her eyes sparkle, her smile is intoxicating, and her body looks like it was designed by an artist.
At this point, no other woman could steal my attention even if they tried.
There’s only one problem: I have no clue what to do or how to handle these feelings.
I’ve had more flings than I can count. I am the fling king. I hope no one ever tries to give me that nickname because it sucks, although until I met Lucy, it would’ve been accurate. Now, though, I want something real and don’t even know how to get it.
I pace around my still-very-empty room. My clothes are meticulously folded in piles lining the wall because I don’t have a dresser. That’s one thing about not having much in the way of possessions–you certainly take good care of the things you do have.
Like for example, if I actually had Lucy, I would care for her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Because to me, she is.
But now, it’s been multiple days since Lucy dropped her “You’re going to have to work harder” line, and she’s gone radio silent. The women’s team had a couple away games, so she’s gallivanting along the West Coast putting up triple doubles and I’m sitting here twiddling my thumbs, wishing she’d reply to my texts.
Although I know why she’s not replying. She issued me a challenge. My typical way of doing things isn’t going to cut it because she’s not a typical girl. Lucy is setting a standard for me to either uphold or walk away from. And I sure as hell don’t plan on walking away, which means it’s time to pony up.
But where do I even start? How do you take something from a fling to a relationship?
I really wish I had a sister right now. I’ve heard this is their area of expertise. But I don’t. So I pull out my phone and dial the only person I would ever ask for advice in the romance department.
She picks up after the first ring. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
I choke out a laugh at her urgent tone. “What? Mom, nothing’s wrong. Something doesn’t always have to be wrong for me to call. Also, hi. It’s good to hear your voice.”
I hear her deep exhale on the other end of the line. Guilt creeps in as I realize how little I check in with her. Of course she assumes something’s wrong. In our family, something is almost always wrong. Or better put, a specific someone has usually done something wrong. Either way, I’m happy I don’t have to bear any bad news to my sweet mother right now.
She’s finally recovered from whatever tragedy she was mentally preparing for, and her tone is back to normal. Well, her tone is tired. But with how hard she works at the hospital, that is her normal.
“Okay, so nothing’s wrong. But I know something’s up. How are you?”
“I’m good. Really good, actually.”
We discuss my most recent games, and she sounds happy the more we talk. I know she misses me. I also know she watches every single game, even when she’s working. She’ll have it on the TV at the nurses’ station and force everyone to cheer for me. I’ve been playing well and enjoying it, which is a massive change of pace for me.
My mom was a huge advocate for me getting away. She loves my dad and has stuck by him through thick and thin, but she also loves me, and she wants me to be happy. Even if that takes me hundreds of miles away from her.
After exhausting all the usual topics of conversation, there’s a lull. She decides not to make me say it. The woman reads me like a book.
“So, who’s the girl?”
Turning my face toward the ceiling, I squeeze my eyes shut. “Her name is Lucy.”
I hear the smile in my mom’s voice. “And…”
“And…she’s significantly out of my league. I know you’re my mom, so you think I’m amazing and all that, but she really is too good for me. We’ve been talking and kind of hanging out, but she’s not the type to only want that. But I don’t know how to do more than that. Like, how do you communicate that you want something serious?” I take a breath.
“Well, have you asked her out on a date? ”
“I mean, I…well, no.”
My mom scoffs. “How about starting there? Then just continue to show up for her. It sounds like you’re already building a friendship with this girl. That’s the best way to do it.”
I don’t think I’m imagining the sudden change in her tone. There’s a little sadness as she keeps talking.
“Yeah, friendship is the best foundation for a relationship. At some point, everything else fades. But you want to be in it with your best friend.”
For most of my life, my parents didn’t spend a whole lot of time together. My mom worked, and my dad drank and took me to basketball tournaments. But I do have some mental screenshots of them together deep in my memory bank.
My dad spinning my mom around the kitchen as he blared “The Way You Look Tonight,” their first dance song. My mom stroking my dad’s face gently after he cut his eye open falling out of a tree, attempting to build me the world’s most rickety tree house. The two of them howling with laughter at baby pictures of me.
I was so worried about getting out from under my dad’s thumb, I forget that my mom is still living in that storm. It’s a storm she will never leave. She loves my dad too much. And despite all of his many shortcomings, I know he loves her.
Love is weird that way.
And terrifying.
There’s the potential for so much good. But as I hear the heartache beneath my mom’s words, I realize just how much hurt it can cause, too. It’s a big risk.
It’s one that my mom would tell me is worth it.
“How are you doing, Mom?”
My tone is sincere. This isn’t a throwaway question, like it usually is.
“Oh, I’m good. You know, the emergency room is always crazy and demanding, but that makes the time fly by. And Dad has a new job. Have you talked to him?”
Of course he has a new job. He always has a new job because he can’t hold a job. Now is not the time to start a conflict, though. She sounds hopeful for him.
“No, I haven’t. What’s he doing?”
“Something in sales. I think it deals with technology, but all of the words sound so foreign to me, I can’t give you any more information than that. You should ask him about it.”
God bless this woman, still trying to mend fences for the stubborn men in her life.
I will ask him about his new job when he bugs me about something other than trying to mooch money out of local businesses. Again, thoughts I can’t voice to my dear mother.
“Uh, yeah, I’ll give him a ring when I get a minute. Anyway, I gotta get going, Mom, but thanks for the advice. Hopefully you’ll get to meet Lucy sometime. I think you’d really like her.”
“I’m sure I will love her. Let me know how it goes, sweetheart. I love you.”
The happiness in her voice is genuine now.
“Love you, Mom.”
Hanging up, I exhale and stretch my neck out like I’m preparing for a fight. Which I kind of am–the fight for Lucy’s heart. Thank the Lord my thoughts aren’t public because that was cheesy as hell. This girl has morphed my thoughts into pickup lines from The Bachelor .
My mind is buzzing. There are so many things I want to do for Lucy that I’d be willing to blow my bank account to make sure this goes perfectly. But something tells me that’s not what she would even want. Someday, I will take her to every fancy restaurant and show and wine tasting this side of the Mississippi–that’s something people do, right? Just like, go taste wine?
But tomorrow night, she’s getting back from a long road trip. She’s going to be drained. I could wait to do something until we can go the traditional route. Or I could make our first date a little more special.
I want to use it to prove to her that she’s not just another fling to me. I’m paying attention to every detail. Each time she tells me something new, I log it away because it all makes up the puzzle that is Lucy–and again, I’m very good at puzzles.
Now it’s time to put that information to the best use possible.
This date is going to be “Lucy Townes”-themed.
Which means I’m going to have to call in backup.