17. Lucy
CHAPTER 17
LUCY
I can tell Jordan was bothered by the conversation with Mr. Pierson, yet he’s still hyper-focused on me and whatever this surprise is. Clearly he put a lot of thought and effort into this evening, and my heart is melting at his selflessness.
We walk down the sidewalk in silence, taking in the Christmas lights. Each little shop has its own display, and each light post is adorned like a candy cane. Small towns really are the best places during the holidays—and pretty much all the time.
At the end of the block, we reach the Cozy Cow. Jordan stops us in front of the door–I guess this is the location of his big reveal. I dramatically put my hand over my heart.
“Aww, you got me a coffee shop. You shouldn’t have, but I love it.”
“Can it, sassy pants. Just wait here for one second. I’ll be right back.”
Apparently he has a key, which he then uses to open the door and I’m left alone on the sidewalk. I barely have time to wonder what he’s up to before he’s back .
“Close your eyes and grab my hand.”
I do what I’m told, and he guides me inside. He drops my hand, and I blindly wave my arms for a second to see if there’s anything near me. I’m not the biggest fan of not being in control. Even though I trust him, standing here with no eyesight and absolutely no clue what’s going on isn’t exactly a comfortable feeling.
I hear him walk a few steps, and then there’s a slight rustling sound.
“All right, open your eyes.”
I slowly lift one eyelid, and then the other one shoots open as I take in the room.
I’m stunned. This looks nothing like the coffee shop I frequent daily. It’s been totally transformed. I’m now standing in a tropical indoor flower garden. Vases full of colorful daisies and tulips and roses cover every surface. Twinkling lights strung around the room set a romantic ambience, and right in the middle of it all is Jordan.
He’s smiling shyly, and all I know is, whichever angel decided to give this man that smile and that dimple should get a major promotion. In his hands, he’s holding a book. Of course he is. The rights to this movie would never sell because he’s too good. It’s not believable. I have yet to find a flaw.
After standing frozen, soaking in every gorgeous flower arrangement, I convince my feet to close the space between us. He holds out the book to me.
It’s Little Women.
“It’s what you were reading that day at the coffee shop. I’m sure you already own it, but open up the front cover.”
I flip it open, and scrawled out in his handwriting, it says, Will you be my girlfriend?
He continues explaining.
“Sorry if this is cheesy. I also thought about writing ‘Will you be the Jo to my Laurie?’ but I’m assuming they don’t end up together. I’ve never read it before now, but after I bought this copy, I started reading it, so—” He snatches it back. “—you actually can’t keep this yet. I need to finish it and then you can have it. So…”
He finally meets my eyes, still looking a little unsure of my reaction. I’m currently at a loss for words at how adorable he’s being, but I need to find some so he knows how happy I am.
Or maybe I don’t.
Throwing my arms around his neck, I pull his lips to mine. I hear the book hit the floor as he grabs my waist. This kiss is deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced. Or maybe my emotions are just deeper than any I’ve ever felt.
Either way, I sink into him. The moment consumes me. He consumes me. I taste him and feel his heartbeat against mine. His lips graze my neck while his fingers stroke my hair. My hands wander to his jawline, brushing against the stubble on his face.
His hands move back to my hips and lift me up, pushing me against the wall. My legs are wrapped around his waist, thanks to the slit up the skirt of my dress, as he tenderly bites my lip. He pulls away slightly and takes a long, deep breath before nuzzling his head into the crook of my neck.
I stroke his hair, letting out a soft laugh. He carries me over to a chair and sits down, still holding me on his lap.
“Sorry, I just can’t help myself. Sheesh, Lucy, I’ve never felt like this about someone before. What the hell are you doing to me?”
I shift into my favorite new spot–my head on his chest with his arms holding me, making me feel so safe.
“Yeah, I tend to have that effect on people.”
He snorts and then tickles me until I’m begging him to stop .
“I’m kidding, I'm kidding! I feel like that too.”
I struggle so much with this part. Articulating vulnerable feelings is not my forte. I’m happy to chat with almost anyone and give them enough information to think that they know me when I’ve only revealed a small sliver of myself, but actually voicing my innermost emotions is like walking on a bed of nails.
I worked through a lot of this in therapy after my dad died–why I push people away, why I have a fear of abandonment, and all the rest of my daddy issues. It was a lot for a kid to deal with, and the wound will never fully heal. I mean, I lost my dad. Some of this stuff will always be hard.
Mix all of these existing struggles with romantic feelings and a new man entering my life, and I’m essentially a toddler just learning to crawl.
But for this guy, I want to learn how to walk.
I can’t do the thing I always do, which is to keep him at an arm’s length and then get frustrated that he doesn’t actually know me. It’s a self-inflicted problem, I admit. But it’s always been easier for me to keep guys outside the wall around my heart so when the relationship inevitably ends, I’m totally fine. It’s a great way not to get hurt. It’s also a great way to end up alone.
With most guys, I don’t care. I’m unbothered by the breakup because I don’t foresee any sort of future. But with Jordan…I want him to know me because I actually trust him with the parts no one else sees.
He rubs my back, patiently waiting for me to continue.
“This is foreign to me. I’m experiencing so much for the first time, and it’s scary. I haven’t ever had a real boyfriend. I’ve talked to guys before, but I never let them get close. It’s too intimate to let someone know every side of me.”
His hand hasn’t left my back, still stroking in a soothing pattern. “I’ll wait as long as I need to. In the meantime, I want to keep proving to you that I’m worthy of the walls coming down.”
I play with the hand that’s not on my back, intertwining our fingers in and out.
“It’s definitely already happening. Brick by brick…”
We stand up, lock the shop, and stroll back to my house. I might actually be floating. It’s a strange feeling–equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. Like I’m at the door of a plane, waiting to jump. I really, really hope the parachute deploys. It will be the scariest and greatest thrill of my life.
We stop at the front door of the Boat and he kisses me softly. His taste lingers on my lips as he steps down the porch to walk home. Right when he reaches the gate, he turns back.
“I meant what I said, you know. I’m going to keep proving it to you. Just you wait.”
This statement sends goose bumps down my spine. His tone is serious and insanely intriguing. Plus, the button-up shirt, sport coat, and slim-fitting pants perfectly tailored to his muscular frame are doing the Lord’s work. But the best part is his sly smile as he turns and disappears into the darkness.
My chest is rising and falling at an aggressive pace.
I believe him. And I want to make out with him some more. Obviously. But as I step inside and head to the bathroom to wash off my makeup, I realize something: he needs me to give him the same trust and effort he’s promising me. He’s definitely made me feel like I’m the most special person on earth. Now I want to return the favor.
I plop down on the bed and begin braiding my hair. Both our teams are leaving for a road trip in two days, so I might have to wait until we get back to provide some gesture that shows how strongly I feel for him.
Then it comes to me.
Food is definitely one of my love languages, so I’m going to use it to communicate my emotions better than words can– I’ve heard that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, so I guess I’ll put that theory to the test. I set my alarm so I can head to the store early. I’m going to need the majority of the day if I want to get everything made.
After loading up on supplies, I start with chocolate chip cookies–an obvious choice and my go-to dessert. Next, I make apple cinnamon muffins because Jordan mentioned he’d never been to an orchard before. I’m forcing him to go with me next year. I tried to get some protein in the mix with some spiced almonds and homemade peanut butter protein bars.
To end, I try to make something that carries some meaning for him. He said his mom once made birthday cake fudge for him to take to school on his birthday, and he felt so special. It seems like that would be the perfect way to show him how incredible I think he is too.
I write notes explaining what each thing is and why I made them, package everything up, and take it to the arena. I find my favorite janitor, Rick, and once I explain what I’m doing, he willingly lets me into the men’s locker room to put the basket of treats in Jordan’s locker.
As I walk out, I’m suddenly nervous that this is too much. What if he’s turned off by how much effort I went to? What if he’s embarrassed when the rest of the team sees it?
Part of me knows he’s going to love it, and the other part is self-conscious about any level of real vulnerability. Baby steps. I keep reminding myself that.
All night, I’m slightly on edge as Jordan and I text about the greatest sports movies of all time. My argument for Hoosiers isn’t nearly as strong as it should be, thanks to my stress over my dumb gift. He kicks my butt when he makes his argument for Remember the Titans. I know he’s a pre-law major–AKA a professional arguer–but I should’ve been able to hold my own at least a little.
Even through text, he could tell something was off. He kept asking if I was okay, and I kept playing it off as nerves for our road games. Inevitably, the morning arrives. My bag is packed, and when I pull into the arena parking lot, I see that our bus is parked right next to the men’s team’s bus per usual.
For better or for worse, I’ll get to see Jordan’s reaction in real time. Lingering outside, filling my water bottle twice, and walking on and off the bus pretending I’m looking for something eventually kills enough time that the men’s team starts to trickle out.
I see his frame approaching because I’d recognize it anywhere. As his outline grows larger, I see that his arms are full of a familiar-looking basket. Surrounding him are various teammates, all trying to pull items out as Jordan slaps their hands away.
He sees me, and his grin puts all my fears to rest. There’s not a hint of embarrassment or doubt. The only emotion on his face is genuine joy. Striding over, he wraps his free arm around me and kisses the top of my head. Then he puts his finger under my chin, turning my face so I’m looking up at him.
“This is easily the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received. Everyone’s trying to steal it from me–”
Tyler interrupts, yelling from behind him. “Can you tell Jordan he has to share?”
Jordan shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t deserve this, or you.”
I stand on my tiptoes and give him a kiss. Wolf whistles sound from the windows of both buses. Great, just what I need right now. An audience.
My voice is barely above a whisper. “Yes, you absolutely do. Also, this pales in comparison to everything you’ve done for me!”
He kisses my forehead one last time. “Nope, this is way better than all that. ”
We start walking toward our respective buses. I look over my shoulder. “Text me.”
“I’ll do my best, but I might be a bit distracted. I’m reading this great book. Not sure if you’ve heard of it.”
He sets the basket down, unzips his bag, and pulls out Little Women. Without another word, he winks and climbs up the stairs to the bus.