Chapter 3 Jordan
jordan
She’s. Here. Oh my God, she’s here. My eyes found her through the sea of people faster than a Where’s Waldo world champion as my pulse raced in my chest harder than the EDM song playing at the club.
Does she see me? Does she know I’m here?
My stomach drops as I see the annoyed look on her face. She definitely knows I’m here.
“Bougie! You’re spacing out again!” Connor McKenzie, our backup goalie, yells over the loud music. Shit. I’m for sure spacing right now—I always am when she’s around. “Where you at tonight, man? Wait…are you daydreaming about your bobblehead night tomorrow? I’m so fucking jealous, asshole!”
I shake the cobwebs from my brain, trying to remember I’m here to be the life of the party. Snap out of it, Jordan!
“Yeah, man, I’m pumped as shit! My own little mini-me. Dreams can come true,” I gush, placing my hand over my heart.
“Dude, if your head gets any bigger, you and your bobblehead aren’t going to fit through the arena exit tomorrow,” EJ says, his arm slung around his girlfriend Natalie.
I roll my eyes, giving him a weak punch on his shoulder.
They started seeing each other a couple of months back, and this is their first public reveal as a couple.
She seems nice, but I just get a weird feeling from her that she’s not into him for the right reasons.
Especially since EJ asked me where to get her diamond earrings for their debut.
He has never been known for having impeccable taste in women.
Everyone gets on me for having a different girl on my arm every time they see me on the news, but EJ tends to chase the ones who throw themselves at him.
Then again, maybe I’m just jealous because the one who I want to be throwing herself at me looks like she’d rather throw me off the top of a building.
“Listen, I know we all get specialty placement on tickets and stuff,” EJ continues, “but why did they have to give you and your giant ego a bobblehead?”
“You know what, EJ, that hurts,” I say mockingly. “It’s not my fault Jordan Joseph Boucher was born with a jawline perfectly ready for merchandising.”
EJ scoffs as Natalie nuzzles into his chest. “More like a jaw perfect for punching.”
“Oh, dear God…I’m going to puke,” Tay groans, looking a little green.
“Are you sick from the shots or from Bougie’s ego?” Mac asks him.
“Why not both?” Tay replies with a Joker-like smile and a more chipper tone than normal. He usually doesn’t drink much, and I’m starting to see why.
“Come on, guys! We’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to celebrate Tay!” I shout, hoping to hide my level of distraction from my teammates. “And, of course, I’m here to provide Tay with everything he’s ever wanted.”
Tay’s eyes widen with horror. “And what, exactly, is it that I’ve always wanted?”
“Entertainment!!!!” I scream at the top of my lungs as I run toward the bar.
“Hit it, Ashley!” The DJ, who has been waiting for my cue, throws her thumb up over the crowd, a smile barely restrained across her face.
I hear EJ mumble something like ‘lord help us’ as I hop onto the bar while Devil Went Down to Georgia pounds through the speakers.