2. Asher #3
I fixed my sunglasses higher up my nose to remove every chance of him seeing my eyes.
It hurt to hear him speak like this. He was so detached from me that he could never understand the weight of his words.
But I couldn’t resist taking a bite at him for this.
“I seem to recall that I am nothing to you. Not even a friend.” You have disappointed me every chance you got, I thought.
You don’t get to be friendly with me when it suits you.
“Alright. I won’t meddle.” He stepped to the edge of the pier.
He was about to do one of his smooth nosedives.
It was like he fed on me witnessing how he excelled.
He positioned himself so that his right foot was in front, toes curling and hooking the edge of the planks, and his chest broadened as he inhaled.
“Good,” I said. “You shouldn’t. I can handle myself.”
I could swear I heard him grind his teeth. “You’re hooking up, huh?”
Heat swelled in my head, making me dizzy. “No,” I said hoarsely, then realized what I’d just admitted. “Yes.” Fuck. “I’m not hooking up,” I said in the end.
His muscles relaxed like he was meditating and preparing to dive.
He stood still, looking at the lake, breathing steadily.
“Maybe it’s none of my business. Maybe you’re right.
” He glanced at me. I was sure that all he could see was his own reflection in my dark sunglasses and the thin line my lips formed.
“Even if we don’t get along, I don’t wanna see you get hurt by someone who wants to use you. ”
I straightened, dusted my hands to keep them occupied, and shook my head. “I’ve had enough of this. All the sex talk I needed — and more — was done last night.”
Jordan gave a tired sigh, bent over for one glorious instant when his big, peachy ass perched up and his lower back curved in, then leaped into the water. He barely made a splash despite being built like a boulder. A sexy boulder I would let sit on my chest if he wanted, I thought.
I picked up my things and decided to search for peace elsewhere. Not in the house. Mom and George loved their time alone and that was as far as I was willing to go. Whatever they did in their privacy was best left to my subconsciousness to deal with.
The refuge I sought presented itself in the forest. An old chestnut tree had fallen down, probably under the weight of last winter’s snow, and made for a great spot to sit in the carpet of leaves and lean against. Just last summer, I’d spent countless moments in this forest, biting my lip and hoping Jordan would run into me, cock his head, see me in a new light, and have his way with me without asking me a goddamn thing.
Damn him.
He was leaving soon again. I wouldn’t see him for half a year, then half a year again. And just after that, all the ways in which he had subtly shaped me would culminate, and I would live next door to him once more.
My last year of high school flew by in a heartbeat.
The big moments happened. Christmas included Jordan, but Easter didn’t.
My graduation was Jordan-free, too, even though I had distantly hoped he might show up.
When my acceptance letter and full scholarship arrived, I told my friends but found no way to tell Jordan without it becoming awkward.
In the end, George told him, and Jordan made only a passing remark when he came for his summer break. Only three days like the summer before.
If I had nurtured any hope at all to arrive at Northwood that fall and move into the house with my stepbrother as an existing ally, it winked out the moment I stepped inside the house.
For one thing, Jordan had driven there with Beckett two days before I was ready to leave.
And when I arrived, it wasn’t Jordan who welcomed me, but the de facto captain, Caden Jones.
Fate dealt me a crappy hand in my first week.
I allied myself with Caden, a handsome, fair, and reasonable guy on the brink of earning a great deal of influence on our team.
Then Coach Murray announced that Beckett Partridge would be the team captain this year, leaving my only new friend at a disadvantage and me in his corner of a freshly split team.
For months, everything remained as it had always been.
Jordan trailed Beckett like a loyal bodyguard, quietly excelling at everything he touched like the god-given fuck that he was.
And I stood firmly with Caden as he moved between spiteful brilliance on the ice and a total disregard for hockey altogether.
But then, Caden and Beckett led us to victory against the Vikings and celebrated by tonguing each other in front of the entire rink.
And even with that rift put to rest, I found myself as far away from Jordan as I had ever been.
Not even being a rising star on his team made me any more important to him.
All I ever got was a sniff, a lifted index finger in a passing lecture, and a disappointed shake of his head.
And that was when I knew I would never be good enough. Not for fucking nor befriending. Until the end of days, Jordan would be a distant, unreachable aspiration as ever, and I would be a tiny smudge on his lens, not even important enough to wipe away.
By the time snow buried our campus and Christmas rolled around, I was almost at peace with that.