18. Daisy
DAISY
A dull ache throbs at my temples and my cheek is plastered against something hard.
Slowly, I open my eyes, and awareness slams into me.
Jordan slept in my bed last night. And I’m on top of him.
I try to untangle myself, but we’re in some weird pretzel position that might have been comfortable, but now has my face flooding with heat because he hasn’t moved from his side of the bed. Which means I attacked him.
“Morning,” his deep voice rumbles beneath me.
“Morning.” My response is squeaky, and I basically jolt myself back to my half of the bed.
“Couldn’t help yourself, huh?”
I fling an arm over my eyes to block the sun and my mortification. Then I remember. He kissed me last night. My stomach flips at the memory. Does he remember?
“I can almost hear you freaking out over there.” He gets up from bed and pulls on his jeans. I sneak a glance and then look away when I find him grinning at me. “It’s fine. Your bed is so small. I’d be more shocked if we didn’t end up snuggled together.”
“It isn’t that.” Or not just that. “Did you see me basically naked last night?” I squeeze my eyes closed while I wait for his answer.
“Yep. Sure did.”
“Thought so.” I groan, and of course he laughs at me like it was all no big deal.
The mattress dips with his weight, and he pries my arm away from my face. “I have to go to practice. Drink lots of water and take some more Advil.”
“Thank you for staying and making sure I was okay.”
He drops his head, and his nose grazes along the curve of my neck. In a lower voice, almost like he’s talking to himself, he says, “Who knew white cotton panties were so fucking hot?”
He’s on his feet before I can process it. “Oh, believe me. It was my pleasure.” He hits me with a playful wink. “What are you doing later?”
“I’m not sure.” I sit up. Did we make plans for today that I buried with last night’s humiliation? That dull ache gets a little more insistent. “Oh, your statistics test is Tuesday. I completely forgot. I’m probably not going to be a lot of help today. How about we study tomorrow?”
A flash of something like insecurity crosses his face. “Yeah. That’ll work.”
He pulls on his T-shirt. His cocky smirk returns as he backs out of my room. “Later, sweet Daisy.”
Going back to sleep is not in the cards. Every time I close my eyes, memories of last night replay, making me too antsy to lie still.
I’m downstairs eating cereal when Violet and Jane get home. Violet goes straight for the fridge and pulls out the orange juice. “Remind me never to stay at Eric’s house again.”
“That bad?” I ask.
Jane’s laughter follows. “Eric got a new harmonica.”
“My ears were bleeding,” Vi says with a groan.
“How was The White House?” Jane asks, her voice lifting several octaves.
“It was… kind of amazing.” I sneak a glance at Violet. “I wish you guys had been there.”
Except then Jordan wouldn’t have stayed over, and that was my very favorite part of the night.
“Did you get to hang out with Liam?” Violet asks.
“A little.”
Jane claps her hands. “I want to hear all about it, but I need a shower and a nap.”
Vi nods her agreement. “Same. And we need to go by the ballroom to take measurements and pictures for the artist.”
“I’m out,” Jane says. “I didn’t sleep at all last night. I have to crash, but I promise I will be at your beck and call the rest of the weekend.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” Vi says as Jane starts out of the kitchen to go crash. She looks at me. “You’ll come?”
“Of course.”
After a shower and breakfast, Violet and I go to campus. The ballroom on the first floor of Moreno Hall is way bigger than I pictured.
“How many people are we expecting?” I ask.
“So far only fifty have RSVP’d.”
“Fifty?! That’s way more than last year.”
“I know. It’s going to be amazing.” She twirls around the big ballroom. She looks so happy.
My face must not meet her enthusiasm because she stops and asks, “Do you not like it?”
“No, it’s going to be great.”
“But?”
“Don’t kill me, but I sort of liked it last year when it was more casual.”
“Says the girl who spent last night at the biggest party on campus.”
“That was just one night.”
“So is this.” She plants a hand on her hip. “You’re fine with a big production if it’s with Liam and his jock bros but not with your friends. Is that it?”
I don’t point out that the guest list is now well beyond our friend group. “That isn’t what I meant. This just doesn’t feel like us.”
“Exactly.”
I give her the big smile she’s waiting for. “It’s going to be a blast. The best party of the year.”
“You bet your ass.”
We get back in her car to head home. She sings along with the song on the radio while I stare out the window.
“Do you ever miss it?”
She stops her singing to glance over at me. “Miss what?”
“Going to the big parties and hanging out with the jocks.”
“No.”
“Even excluding Gavin and the awful roommate?”
“Not for a second.”
“It was that bad?” I had fun last night. Sure, I was happily drunk for most of the night, but the more time I spend with Jordan and Liam, the less I understand why she hates “them” so much.
“No, it was a blast until it wasn’t.”
“What does that mean?”
I’ve never pressed her on the topic, and I don’t expect her to divulge any more information.
“I was so na?ve. I took everyone at their word and was genuinely surprised when they went against it. I guess that’s on me, but I knew myself well enough to know I couldn’t play the game.”
“What game?”
“You know, it’s like a guy says he likes you and that you’re different, spits all these sweet words at you, but really what he means is he wants to have sex with you. And I’m cool with that, but just say that instead.”
“Gavin?” I ask.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I mean, yes, I thought he liked me, and I still can’t believe he hooked up with Bailey. He always acted like he couldn’t stand her.”
I only met Violet’s roommate, Bailey, once, but she was pretty unbearable. She’s one of those people who’s always been pretty and popular, and treats it like it’s the most important part of her personality.
“But in this instance, I’m generalizing. We’d go to these parties, and it was so much fun, but then the next day, I was playing it all back to decipher what was real and what was drunken fun.”
My stomach dips. Was Jordan kissing me just drunken fun, or was it real?
“I know I’ve said it before, but I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. Obviously, I dodged a bullet.” She stares straight ahead but mutters quietly, “Or an STD.”
I snort a laugh. “Are you really okay? You seemed pretty stressed over the blocked car situation last night.”
“Living next to him has not been as easy as I thought. Stupid me. I thought we’d continue never seeing each other as long as I stayed on my side of the fence. Instead, I’m running into him everywhere I go.”
“Sorry about that.”
“You’re not sorry at all.” She smiles.
“I really love that tree house, but I love you more. We could move.” It’s a weak offer, but if she really needed that, I’d do it.
“No way. He’s not running me off.” She pulls into the driveway and turns off the engine. “I know you like Liam and think he’s different, but just be careful. Okay?”
I get it. She doesn’t want to be hurt again, but I’ve been hurt by plenty of unpopular people before. Being a dick isn’t an exclusive trait to just jocks. In fact, it’s probably more like ninety percent of the population.
“I will. And one last time, I’m really sorry that happened to you.”
“Thank you.”
Jane is still in her room when we get inside.
“I think I’m going to nap, too,” Violet says. “Dahlia should be back this afternoon. Jane and I thought we could have a night in, just the four of us. Or are you going to hang with your new boyfriend?”
“Stop it.” I laugh nervously. “Liam is so not my boyfriend.”
“Okay then, Darcy and dress up?”
“That sounds perfect.”
Hours later, after Mister Darcy and Elizabeth have confessed their love, I still haven’t figured out how to confess to my friends that my crush is no longer on the guy they think it is. Crushing on Liam was one thing, but Jordan? He’s the epitome of everything Vi hates about that crowd.
But the real reason I can’t bring myself to say the words is fear. I like Jordan. Really like him. Not like how I had a crush on Liam from afar. I’ve spent time with Jordan, I’ve kissed him… and I don’t know if it means anything or if I’m just setting myself up for heartbreak.
What I do know is that it’s just getting more awkward every time they mention Liam.
“Did he walk you home?” Dahlia asks as she helps me into one of Violet’s old dresses. This one is my favorite. It’s a pale yellow with a big, poofy skirt like a princess.
All the girls look to me for an answer.
“No. Jordan did.” I laugh nervously. “He was afraid Violet would cut off his nipples if he didn’t.”
“Ha!” she says. “Good. I’m glad he didn’t ditch you.”
“No. He was great, actually. We hung out a little before Liam got to the party.” I run my hand down the lace skirt.
“Hung out?” Jane asks. “Meaning he showed you his beer pong skills or let you observe him pick up other girls?”
“We played century club, but someone did try to get him to sign her boobs.”
They all laugh. It might not sound like it was a good time, but it was. I think it was the best night of my life.
Jordan comes over Sunday evening. I’m in the tree house sketching when he calls up from the ground. “Daisy?”
“One sec.” My heart races. I lost track of time, which isn’t all that unusual when I’m really into it, but I’ve been anxious about seeing Jordan again all day, and I wanted time to prepare before he showed up.
“I’m coming up.” His voice is closer this time, and I freeze because there’s no other exit route and nothing to do now but wait for him to get to the top.
His dark head covered by a black backward hat pops into view.
He looks around and then continues up, so he’s hunched over in the entryway. “You really do have a tree house.”
“Yep.” I wring my hands in front of me.
He shrugs out of his backpack and takes a seat with his long legs stretched out in front of him. “This is kind of badass, Daisy.”
“It’s my favorite spot. I come out here to sketch or think.” Or to watch parties across the fence.
Jordan’s gaze roams around the walls of the tree house. Some of my sketches are hung up with tacks, and he smiles as he gives each one attention. “All of these are yours?”
“Yeah.” Several are from parties where I watched him and his friends hang out. They’re just figures—backs of heads, broad shoulders, girls with small waists and big hair. He takes it all in.
“They’re good. Really good.”
“Thanks. How was the rest of your weekend?”
“Fine.” We’re crammed together in a tight spot where there’s basically no way to avoid being close. He taps his shoe against my thigh lightly. “What’d you do yesterday?”
“Not much. We stayed in. You?”
“Pretty chill. We went over to my buddy Brad McCallum’s apartment.”
My gaze zooms in on his lips. So many questions. Why did he kiss me? And more importantly, is he going to do it again? And do I want him to?
That last one isn’t a real question. Kissing him again is everything I want. I need to confirm that those sparks I was feeling Friday night weren’t because I was at a party I’d dreamed of attending.
He unzips his backpack and pulls out a thick textbook.
“You do own one of those, huh?”
One side of his mouth quirks up as he also gets a notebook and pencil, then shifts to get comfortable.
“We can go inside if you want.”
“Are you kidding? This is awesome.”
“Okay.” I’m pleased he likes it. “What areas do you still need help with for tomorrow?”
He adjusts his hat and gives me a sheepish grin. “All of it. I haven’t looked at it since the last time we studied.”
“O-kay.” I hold my hand out for his textbook.
He places it in my palm, and I flip through it to refamiliarize myself with the material.
“We could work some problems,” I suggest.
“Hit me.” He flips his notebook to a clean page.
I give him a problem, and he jots it down.
With his eyes on the paper, he asks, “Have you even taken probability and statistics yet?”
“Noooo.” I smile. “But I spent some time this past week looking up anything I didn’t know.”
He looks up and grins. “You did that for me?”
“It’s no big deal.”
“Are you kidding? That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” He points the end of his pencil at me. “Sweet Daisy. Told you. It fits.”
Together we work through problems until the sun has set, taking the heat of the day with it. I rub my hands together and then bring them to my face.
Jordan packs up his stuff and then scoots forward, his knees bent. He takes my hands and covers them with his own. His thumb glides along the pulse point on my wrist. “I should get going.”
“Why did you kiss me?” The question spills out with no regard for my ego. If he says he was drunk and doesn’t remember it, I might have to jump from this tree house.
“I wanted to,” he says simply.
“Why?”
He chuckles lightly.
“I’m not fishing for compliments. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“That’s your problem.” His long fingers wrap around my wrists, and he tugs me closer. His minty breath hits my lips, and he stares at my mouth as he says, “Stop trying to make sense of everything.”
There’s an unspoken challenge in his words, or at least that’s how I take it. I inch forward. He lets me come to him, but he reassures me with more soft caresses where he holds my wrists.
My mouth hovers near his, my breaths shallow and my heart hammering in my chest. I bring my lips to his in a ghost of a kiss. And there they are, the tiny sparks all over my body. I tremble everywhere, and Jordan groans quietly, bringing one of his hands to the back of my neck.
I forget to be timid. I forget that we don’t make any sense because it feels so damn good.
His tongue strokes mine in the same rhythm of his thumb along my neck. I raise a hand to his cheek and lightly run my nails along the light scruff and then higher where I thread my fingers through the thick locks of dark hair. He lets me explore.
He’s a good kisser. Playful but intense. Gentle nips and then hard presses of his lips over mine as he steals the air from my lungs.
He pulls me between his legs and wraps his arms around my waist. His fingers dance at the hem of my T-shirt, caressing bare skin and sending goosebumps racing up my side.
I want to be closer still, and press into him until his back is against the wall of the tree house and my boobs crush into his chest. My nipples ache at the contact, and heat rushes between my legs.
“Daisy!” Violet’s voice is slow to register above the blood pounding in my ears. When she calls my name a second time, I jump back.
I scramble off Jordan and fix my clothes and hair before answering her. “We’re studying in the tree house.”
She comes to the bottom of the ladder and looks up. My cheeks are on fire, but I hope she thinks it's just the cold air.
“Take a break and come inside. I have a surprise.”