20. Daisy
DAISY
I wasn’t lying when I told Jordan that I wasn’t a virgin.
Only once with my high school boyfriend, but with Jonathon, a physics major I dated last year, we had sex lots.
Okay, not lots, but pretty often. He ended up transferring back home at the end of the year.
It wasn’t exactly fireworks, but he was nice, and we had a lot in common.
So, while I haven’t had loads of sex with a ton of people, I’ve punched in my V card. With Jonathon, though, we didn’t do much else besides sex. Kissing led to undressing, and from there, it was pretty much straight to sex with maybe a boob squeeze or two for foreplay.
I didn’t even know enough to realize how I was missing out. And oh, how I was missing out. I can say now without a doubt that what Jordan did with just his fingers was a thousand times better than what Jonathon did while actually screwing me.
And now I realize I don’t know how to return the favor.
Jordan pushes his boxers past his hips, letting his dick spring up. He strokes himself once slowly as he scans my body from head to toe.
“Show me what to do?” I place my hand under his.
He’s hard and smooth, and at my touch, his dick leaks with precum. He repositions his hand, so he’s covering mine. I readjust so I’m holding him in the same spot he was, and slowly he pumps our hands up and down his length.
His gaze drops from me to his dick, and he sucks in a breath through his teeth. The muscles in his stomach contract, and I want to run my finger along the outline of his six-pack. Well, not now. You couldn’t pay me enough to move my hand right now.
I’m dizzy with the excitement of touching him like this and the look of pure ecstasy that washes over his face.
He picks up the speed, moving our hands faster. I lean over and place a kiss on the head. He’s salty on my lips, and my tongue darts out to taste more of him.
“Oh, fuck,” he mutters. He guides me by the neck with his free hand, pulling me closer and crushing his mouth to mine as he lets out a guttural groan. He stills our joined hands but continues kissing me as his dick jumps in my palm.
With a final nip of my bottom lip, he pulls away and lets his head fall back. His fingers unravel from around mine, and he pulls off his sock to clean himself up.
It makes me giggle, and he shoots me a sheepish grin.
“Do you want to stay over?” I’m already imagining how to get him inside and up to my room without my roommates seeing.
“I should go.”
“Really?” My face burns with what I guess is embarrassment at being so eager. He hooks up with lots of girls, this isn’t a major thing to him.
He brings his hand back up to my neck and says, “This was amazing. Tonight, you—all of it. I have an early workout in the morning, and all my shit is at the dorm.”
“Okay.”
A lump forms in my throat, and my eyes sting like I might cry. Stupid, I know. Of course he can’t just stay over. Tonight was just… everything. And I don’t want it to end.
We get dressed in silence, and then Jordan goes down the ladder first. I toss him the blanket, pillow, and flashlight, then start climbing.
Halfway, he grips me by the waist and lifts me in the air, spinning me around and loosening the knot forming in my chest. He sets me on the ground in front of him.
“My ankles are cold.” He pulls his socks from the pocket of his jacket.
“Sorry about that.” I laugh at his bare ankles.
“I’m not.” He raises a hand to my face, stroking his thumb over my bottom lip before bringing his mouth down on mine.
I could keep kissing him all night, but he pulls away and backs toward the side yard that leads to the front of the house. “Later, sweet Daisy.”
The hockey team has an away game during the week, leaving me by myself in physics lab.
Professor Green moves me, yet again, to a new group for the day.
It isn’t the same without him. Jordan, that is.
I don’t know how it happened, but it stopped being Liam I was excited to see in class and who occupied my daydreams.
He texts every day, usually multiple times, but I still worry that whatever is happening between us means a lot more to me than it does to him.
Wednesday night, Violet gathers us all in the living room. She’s in full ball prep mode. Winter break is in two weeks, and the ball is the week we return.
“Table decorations are set,” Violet says. She looks to Jane. “You’re bringing everything back with you?”
“I’ll have it shipped, but it will be here. I promise.”
Violet nods. “Flowers are still good, Daisy?”
“Yes.”
She keeps staring at me.
“I will go by tomorrow and quadruple check.”
My cousin grins. “Thank you.”
Once Violet is satisfied that everything is going to plan, the conversation falls to dates.
“Eric’s coming with me,” Jane says. “Unless I find a boyfriend before then. Do you think I could pay that cute boy who?—”
“No,” we all shout at once.
She just shrugs.
“I don’t want the stress of asking someone to be my date.” Dahlia shakes her head. “But I’m hoping to dance with lots of cute boys at the party.”
“I’m going solo too,” Violet says, then looks to me. “Are you going to ask Liam?”
“Oh.” I swallow. All eyes are on me. “No. He probably has a game or practice or something.”
“But he’s bringing the flowers, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So, he obviously doesn’t have an away game that weekend. He can come after if they have a game.”
“You should ask him,” Dahlia encourages, and Jane nods.
“I’ll think about it.”
I don’t like keeping things from my friends, but I’m not sure where Jordan and I stand. Plus, I know what Violet will say. He’s a player, he’ll hurt me, yadda yadda. And I don’t want to think about how she might be right.
Jordan texts Thursday evening, and I go out to the tree house to wait for him.
I’m bundled up in a blanket, sketching, when I hear him on the ladder. I toss my notebook and turn the flashlight in his direction.
He holds up a hand to shield his eyes from the light when he gets to the top. “Whoa.”
“Sorry.” I set it to the side, and he walks hunched over to me.
He sits so that we’re side by side. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply, feeling a little awkward. “Congrats.”
The team won both of their games this week.
“Thanks.” He leans back and adjusts his hat, so it faces forward. “What’ve you been up to this week?”
“Not a lot. Classes and helping Violet plan for the ball.”
“Oh right, the Wallflower Ball. When is it?”
“The fourteenth.”
“Might need you to send me a pic or two in that sexy, yellow dress.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him to be my date, but in what world does Jordan agree to go to a Wallflower Ball? He’s anything but a wallflower. And if he says no, I fear it’ll be the end of us right now. So I just say, “I can probably arrange that.”
He bends forward and kisses me, scratching and tickling me with his scruff. It’s grown since he’s been gone, and it’s a good look on him.
“I like.” I run my hand over his cheek.
“Yeah?” He grins. “I figured you would prefer clean cut.”
“It suits you.”
He picks up my sketchbook near his feet and tips it toward the light.
“Don’t look. It isn’t finished.” I try to grab it, but he holds it out of my reach. “Is this me?”
I climb into his lap and tug at his arm until he lowers it and lets me snatch it back. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
His deep laughter isn’t taunting, but I’m horrified anyway. When I’ve closed it and placed it under the blanket, I finally face him again. “We’re working on facial features in class, and I needed the extra practice.”
Those are both true, but I easily could have picked someone else to draw and now wish I had.
“I’m flattered,” he says. “Did you do that from memory?”
“Yes. You have a very memorable face.”
He traces a finger down the side of my face. “Well, from what I was able to see before you attacked me, it seemed pretty good.”
“I can’t get your mouth right.”
“Oh yeah?” He brings his lips to mine. “Maybe you need to better inspect it.”
I do, kissing him like I’ve wanted to all week. He slides his hands under my shirt.
It’s movement next door that interrupts us as his thumbs glide over my nipples. The guys at The White House are outside, and their laughter draws Jordan’s attention.
“Oh, wow. You have a perfect view into their back yard.”
“Yeah,” I say like I haven’t spent many nights up here watching the parties next door.
“Can they see us?”
“I don’t think so.”
He glances around at the floor around us. “I wish I had something to toss at Gavin’s head.”
“Let’s not give him any reason to come over and set off Violet.”
“Those two really don’t get along, huh?”
I shake my head. “Can’t really blame her. He pretended to like her and hooked up with her roommate.”
“Gavin?” He jabs a thumb toward where his buddy stands. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
I shrug.
He kisses me again, and I forget the reason he came over was to study until the light in Violet’s room flips on.
“I need to finish my sketch,” I say.
“Mhmm.” He kisses down my neck and onto my collarbone.
“Finals are next week.”
With a playful groan, he pulls back and gets his book from his backpack.
“You’re cute when you pout,” I tell him.
“Don’t compliment me now, sweet Daisy, or I’ll be tempted to toss our books over the fence and kiss you until you forget about school.”
I almost do it. It’s only because I know he needs to study that I don’t.
The rest of the week and into the weekend, Jordan and I text but aren’t able to hang out. He invites me to a party on Saturday, but Violet has planned an early birthday party for Dahlia, who turns twenty over the break.
We’re at one of her teammate’s apartment.
The living room is filled with people. Some I know, more I don’t.
Dahlia refuses the Happy Birthday sash but has on a light-up shot glass necklace that flashes as Jane pours more champagne into it.
She bought two bottles of Dom, one that was double the price because the outside was covered in rhinestones.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Jordan’s name flashes on the screen three times. He texts every thought in a different message, whereas I usually fit what would be several messages into one long one that he probably doesn’t read all the way through.
I move off to the side of the room to read his messages. Pick the suit, the first one says with a picture of three cards facing down. I scroll to the next one. Wanna fuck the dealer? And last, P.S. I’m the dealer.
My heart flutters in my chest. Hearts.
A minute later, another picture arrives. The queen of clubs. Uh-oh. Only two chances left.
He follows that up quickly with, Value?
Eight, I guess.
Wrong again, sweet Daisy. The picture shows a ten of hearts.
Last shot, he texts. And, Higher or lower?
Lower.
Final answer?
I picture him at the party, sitting at a table, probably carrying on a conversation with his friends while texting me.
Statistically, the odds are in my favor.
He sends the picture of the jack of diamonds first, then a selfie of him flipping off the camera. I stare at it for a long time. His giant smirk aimed at me, eyes twinkling, backward hat, and scruff still going strong.
Looks like it’s Fuck Daisy instead. ;)
I take a picture of me holding up my drink. I chug for three seconds and then send another text, I think I’d rather us both be f’ed.