Chapter 7 – Jordan
SEVEN
JORDAN
When are boys supposed to become men?
It can’t be when their frontal lobe develops, and it’s definitely not in college. So when?
I huff out a breath, sticking the hand towel I found under the sink, praying its clean, under the tap. Warm water darkens the fabric. I wait for the entire square to be saturated before squeezing out the excess water and return to blotting my ruined skirt.
Nothing says happy start of the semester like a beer and jungle juice shower.
Who even still plays spin the bottle? And why, if you have a boyfriend, would you opt to play spin the bottle?
I was ready to leave, searching for Xanie to let her know I was heading back to our dorm when a brawl—okay, that’s dramatic, a scuffle—broke out when an obviously intoxicated football player grabbed the collar of a Hawaiian shirt, forcefully pulling a frat brother off of who I assume was his girlfriend.
He swung, then the football player swung, neither giving up the drinks in their hands.
While neither of them got hurt, I was the casualty.
I escaped to an empty upstairs bathroom.
A firm thud, thud, thud rattles the door, again.
“Seriously,” I mumble to myself, the eye roll absentminded. I swear whoever is on the other side of that door needs to catch the memo that someone is in here. “Occupied!”
“Little Carmichael.” Wasn’t expecting him of all people. Jaxon tries the handle. “Little Carmichael, open up.”
“Go away, Greene.”
“I saw what happened.” His tone is soft, muffled as if he’s pressed himself up against the door.
“Great,” I say assertively, clinging to the hope that he catches the memo and goes away. “Then you know I need to get this stain out before—” I choke on the words, eyes burning with the start of tears. I stare at the stain I’m only making worse. “I’m taking care of it. Leave me alone.”
“Jordan,” he says my first name, something he rarely ever does.
It’s always Little Carmichael and accompanied by a teasing smirk, a glint in his gemstone eyes.
I’m never Jordan to him. I almost want to ask him to say it again, see if my heart reacts the same way.
It had to of been a fluke, it’s impossible for him in two syllables to calm my racing heart.
I pause, resting my forehead on the door. “You know that’s impossible.”
I crack open the door, dropping the hand towel on the closed toilet to wrap my arms across my bare chest. The coconut bra is now a coconut punch bowl. “Please lea—”
His mossy green eyes, the color reminding me of pines lining a lake, drop to where my arms are crossed. Jaxon swallows harshly, shifting his attention to my face.
“Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?” I snap, too wishful that the bite in my words will send him away, push him away like everyone else.
Jaxon stays rooted to the floor, a hand curling around the door frame. “Can I help?”
“Yes, by leaving.”
He tilts his head, a subtle shake. “That’s not going to happen.”
“I didn’t ask for you to come up here.”
His smile is dangerous. A lure that has the door creeping open and my mind playing games on me. If he saw what happened, was he there? Was Jaxon playing too?
Not that I care…but I wouldn’t put it past him, albeit needing a game or reason for females to flock to him.
I’ve watched it happen countless times; the first being when Cooper insisted I make the drive for siblings’ weekend his freshman year.
While Mom thought it was a great idea, especially since I had committed to Lakeland the month prior, Dad gave me your standard D.A.R.E talk—made me practice saying no till I was almost blue in the face. No to drugs, no to alcohol, no to boys.
Cooper was ecstatic to have me on campus, introducing me to everyone, bragging about his little sister playing hockey. I was excited to see his roommate.
We met up with his now roommates and Elliot at The Mean Bean. Before we had coffee in our hands, my obsession with the cafe already solidified, seven girls came up to Jaxon. Granted they flirted with all of the boys, but it wasn’t the level or intensity they prowled after Jaxon.
All of them were gorgeous.
I took in my worn oversized sweatshirt, high school logo in the center, and immediately compared myself to them. There’s no way he’d notice me when that is what he’s surrounded by.
Jaxon ate up the attention, like he always does. I quickly learned that his friendly personality wasn’t unique to me. That’s who he is for everyone.
“But I’m here.” The sound of his voice cuts through the jealousy clouding my thoughts.
I let out all the air in my lungs, chest settling as I stare into his soft greens.
“And I’m not leaving till you tell me what you need.
And um, what…what happened to your”—his fingers spin in front of his chest, gaze trying to remain locked on mine—“bra?”
“Punch bowls. Right there if you want a cup.” He laughs, even though I wasn’t trying to be funny, sarcastic at best. Still, the sound undoes another knot in my chest. “They’re drying, but are—”
Before I even finish my sentence, he’s untying his coconut bra and handing it to me. “Wear mine. I think we’re the same size.”
I allow myself to stare, eyes tracing the lines his muscles carved into his chest and abdomen.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “You might need a reduction.”
Jaxon matches my casual shrug. “I don’t think so, perfect size.”
My mouth purses, tongue running along my teeth. I take the bra, knowing he’ll insist and I’d rather not walk out of here topless, turning to move deeper into the bathroom.
He follows me. Door closing, a lock clicks into place.
I’m not claustrophobic, but with Jaxon in here, the already cramped space shrinks and I shudder a breath. Chest tight. Heart rate spiking. I feel lightheaded.
As a precaution, I pull my hair in front of my shoulders. Crimped blue strands curtain my bare chest as I finagle the thin black string around my neck, then back. I make sure the top is tight before slipping my hair out from under the coconuts.
When I spin, Jaxon is testing the tap water. A bottle of Dawn on the counter alongside the towel I was using.
“Sit,” he instructs.
I don’t move, knowing that if I sit in this skirt, I will flash him. Plus, he’s not the boss of me. “No.”
I extend my hand, for the towel.
“No,” he spars with me.
“I can do it.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t do it for you.” Jaxon drops to his knees in front of me, adding a dollop of soap to the hand towel. There’s a moment of hesitation before he tips his chin up at me, a nervous hint to his features and voice.
“Didn’t take you as someone who’s nervous to touch a girl.”
His smirk crackles between us, goosebumps dance across my skin. “Didn’t say I was, but maybe I’m nervous to touch you.”
“I don’t bite.”
“I’d probably like it if you did.” Jaxon blinks, before asking again. “Can I touch you, Little Carmichael? It’ll make it easier to manage the stain.”
I nod permission.
The back of his hand snakes under the hem of the mini skirt, pulling the damp fabric away from my heated skin. Holding it in place, he blots the stain with the towel, massaging the soap into the fabric. Jaxon does this for a few minutes, his attention solely stilled on what he’s doing. Mine on him.
When he stands, dropping the mini skirt and I swear ghosting his fingers down my inner thigh, I’ve never felt so small. Jaxon towers over me, I barely reach his shoulders, forcing me to stare up at him. Watch as he rinses my coconut bra and dries it. He hangs up the towel when he’s finished.
“When you get home, I’d put stain remover on it and let it sit before washing. But this soap should help till then.”
“Where did you learn to do this?”
“Gran—my grandma taught me. I was a stain prone kid. She got tired of doing my laundry and finding half my clothes with grass stains, dirt, or food on them. I like to make a mess.” This smile is contagious, wink panty dropping.
“And now I always make sure to clean up. I’m better at laundry than Beck,” he tacks on, pretending he wasn’t trying to flirt with me.
“Wow,” I exclaim sarcastically.
“You can keep my secret as a thank you.”
A wave of softness hits me. “Thank you, Greene.”
“You’re welcome, Carmichael.”
We stare at each other for a minute, then another. I break first, brushing past him to the door. “I think I’m gonna Irish. Can you let the others know you saw me slip out the front?”
His hand swallows mine around the doorknob. “Did you drive?”
“Walked.”
“I’ll walk you home.” I open my mouth to decline the offer, but he closes it with a finger under my chin. “Not taking no as answer.”
We make it downstairs, and I end up letting Sutton know I’m leaving. We don’t spot Xanie, Cooper, or anyone else as we weave through the house.
“Wait here,” Jaxon instructs me at the front door.
He walks up to the football player who shoved the guy that fell into me, causing my alcohol shower. Taking his beer out of his hand, with a cocksure smile, he pours the entire bottle on top of his head. Jaxon saunters back to me, too casual for what he just did.
“Ready?” He offers me his hand, walking me back to my dorm.
Xanie crawls into my bed the next morning. There’s glitter on her face from last night, hair still pinned with seashell clips. She lets out a yawn as she makes herself comfortable under my floral comforter.
“What time did you get back last night?”
After Jaxon walked me home, waiting outside till he saw the light on in my dorm, I took a shower and climbed into bed.
Completed half a crossword before crashing, the book open on the floor.
I didn’t hear Xanie come home, figured she’d be at Nico’s till I woke in the middle of the night to pee and saw her purse on the counter.
“Wayyyy too late. Nico and I went to The Tipsy Bear to meet up with a few of his friends around eleven.”
“You little party mermaid,” I tease, rubbing at the glitter.
“You should see my pillow.”
“Looks like mine?”
She sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. “I’ll wash it.”
“Don’t worry about it. Did you have fun last night?”
“Where’d you sneak off to?” Xan yawns the last three words, not answering my question. “I couldn’t find you after you went outside.”
I snort a sardonic laugh, catching her up about my eventful night. Xanie profusely apologizes even though I keep telling her it’s not her fault. Any irritation I had about last night is gone, slept off, blotted out with the stain.
When I got up this morning, before doing anything else, I checked the skirt. Jaxon’s magic trick worked. The stain is practically gone, and nothing a single wash can’t fix.
“I’m going to go to The Pond. Wanna come?”
Xanie shakes her head, more glitter transfers to the pillows. “Unless it’s vertical and involves my eyes being closed dreaming of James Lafferty, then I’ll pass. You still good to go run errands this afternoon?”
“Mhm.” I climb out of bed, pulling out clothes to change into. “You napping here?”
“Your bed is comfy.” She wiggles deeper into the covers, eyes closing.
I change and head to the rink. I take my figure skates, but they remain in my bag when I lace up my Bauers. I work through a few drills, mainly practice my stick handling. Changing up movements and speed as I take the puck side-to-side up and down the rink.
And if deja vu isn’t a thing, I’ll be damned. I glance up and once again find Jaxon watching me.