Chapter 44 – Jaxon
FORTY-FOUR
JAXON
Me
can u pick me up before practice?
Blue
you live with four guys on the team
Me
*sad face emoji*
please
Blue
fine, be ready in ten
I’m ready now. The whole house is.
Jordan’s birthday is today. The big two-one.
She didn’t want a party, and while I’m doing my best to respect that—I love birthdays—I’m not letting her miss out on birthday shots. When I suggested to my roommates that we surprise her with our house tradition, they all agreed.
I check the ties on the birthday banner strung between the lights over our kitchen counter.
Grant, when he heard that Jordan’s birthday was this week, enlisted two of his classmates to help cut out the letters from rainbow construction paper.
Madeline added the glitter, all shades of blue to match Jordan’s hair.
Beck snaps a picture, promising to send it to me to show Grant at school today.
Cooper yawns, stars still hanging in the sky, tugging me into a side hug. “You’re the best friend, you know that? I appreciate you making sure she’s included in everything team-related.”
“She’s your sister, dude. She’s family.”
From across the kitchen, a sleepy Sutton eyes me with a knowing smirk. It’s been just over a week since she found out, bumping into Jordan in the hallway upstairs.
Jordan came back into my room mortified.
I thought I’d heard his door open late in the evening, but I was too consumed with Jordan to care.
Thankfully, Sutton’s held to her word and hasn’t said anything to Cooper.
However, she’s being overly observant. Something I used to admire about her, but now wish wasn’t pointed in my direction.
“However,” Cooper laughs out, “Jordan might not consider you family after this.”
A honk comes from the driveway.
I open the front door, waving her in. Jordan shakes her head no, rolling down her window. “Five minutes.”
She points at my roommates’ cars, still parked in the driveway. “They’re all here.”
“Come inside.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“We’re going to be late.”
“This’ll be quick.”
She huffs, getting out of the car. Her arms are crossed as she saunters up to the front porch, sass turned on.
“Someone needs a birthday spanking,” I tease, closing the door behind me. Jordan tilts her head, mouth pursed. It makes me laugh. Before letting her inside, I lean down and kiss her. “Happy birthday, Blue.”
“Thank you.” Her cheeks rise, making it look like her freckles are dancing, as she peers up at me through thick lashes. Stars illuminating her face, I count them.
Eighteen, plus the one behind her ear. That’s nineteen.
“Huh?”
I guess I said that aloud. “Your freckles. You have nineteen.”
“You counted?”
“Mhm.” I kiss her again, turning the doorknob behind me. “I’d better grab my things so we aren’t late.”
Inside, Jordan follows me into the kitchen.
There’s a chorus of surprise! and happy birthday! that rings through the house. While we were outside, everyone hid, jumping out from behind the counter.
Jordan’s eyes ping to me, to our friends, then back to me. “What is this?” she asks.
“Birthday shots!” I gleam, hands on her shoulder, encouraging her forward as she groans.
“I thought I was excluded from this.” Her brother scoops her into a hug. “You knew about this?” she accuses him.
“Duh. You can’t miss the birthday shot. You’re one of us.”
“But I don’t live here.” The rules may have been modified last semester when Jake was here the morning of Cooper’s birthday and had conditioning at five in the morning. Everyone was up before he had to leave, to cheers to another year of life for our captain.
He ruffles her hair, stepping beside her and taking the glass Beck slides his way. “You’re here right now, so that counts.”
Everyone picks their chilled glasses off the counter as I count us in for the classic Happy Birthday. We clink glasses together before slinging back our shots.
“An extra espresso shot for the birthday girl.”
I sink into the chair next to Jordan in biology. Pass her the iced coffee I picked up on the way to campus from The Mean Bean.
The coffee was waiting at the pick-up counter when I walked in.
Rose and Xanie were behind the counter working.
For a place she only works at twice a month, she’s well-loved.
Beside the plastic to-go cup was a card, signed by her co-workers and a few regulars, including Stan, the older gentleman she learned to play chess for—play being the loosest form of the word.
I can’t imagine being a woman. Forced to maintain unrealistic standards. You have to be thin, but not too thin. Nice, but not too nice because it can come off inauthentic. Assertive, but not too assertive, otherwise you’re seen as bossy or mean.
It hurts to see how these standards and labels have dimmed who she is. Marred her perspective on how people see her, leading to a belief that she’s disposable. Because she’s not, and there’s so many people around her that want her company and cherish who she is. All the attitude and RBFs included.
“And this.” I slide over the envelope, her name doodled in bubble letters on the front. “It’s from your co-workers. They didn’t know if you were going to stop in today.”
For someone who claimed she didn’t want to celebrate her birthday, Jordan rips open the card, excitement crinkling the corner of her eyes. I lean into her orbit, eager to bask in her warmth and to read over her shoulder.
“This”—she waves the card—“is better than a shot. Vodka at five-thirty?”
“Trust me, that’s a way better time than Beck’s birthday sophomore year.
Remember when the gyms were double-booked, and the men’s team ended up having conditioning at four?
” I cringe at the memory, a shutter raking through my body.
“We took shots at a time some of us were coming home on the weekends. But that wasn’t the worst part.
” She laughs, taking a sip of her iced drink.
“I was starving when we woke up that morning, my stomach grumbled to the tune of Happy Birthday. Smashed a whole bowl of Fruit Loops in the car to practice, only to find out we were doing timed miles. Threw up after the second lap.”
“That is disgusting.”
I shrug, cockily adding, “Still ran the mile in five minutes.”
Jordan rolls her eyes, turning on her tablet.
“I have something else for you,” I tell her, reaching into my pocket for my phone.
“Are your ears missing? I thought we agreed no birthday things.”
On my phone, I pull up the playlist I made for her. It’s not unusual for me to send her music, but this one I curated specifically for her. Stayed up late last night designing the cover art too.
“You agreed, I…did not.”
Birthday shots, coffee, a playlist, and birthday sex. Maybe a candlelight pancake dinner, nothing too crazy.
Her tablet and phone ding at the same time, a notification dropping from the top. She taps the bubble, then the link. “A playlist?”
She scrolls through the songs, rattling off a few titles. To anyone else, these songs have no rhyme or reason. The combination would have any regular person confused about how they all go together—based on the lines between her brows, they have Jordan confused.
But to me, it’s perfect.
Potentially my favorite playlist yet.
Jordan scrolls back to the top and reads off the playlist title: Songs That Make Jordan Smile.
“Make me smile? The ‘Thong Song’?”
“Night of the luau party, when the drinks were spilled on you. It was playing in the background right before we left. You were waiting at the door for me before I walked you home, watching when I went and dumped the beer on the guy.”
“I don’t remember smiling then.”
“You did.”
“What about ‘So Yesterday’?”
“The Mean Bean, siblings’ weekend four years ago. Who knew they made Hilary Duff records from back then, but your eyes lit up when we walked in. Ear-to-ear grin as you saw all over the specialty options.”
“‘That’s the Way It Is’?”
That one makes me smile, and not because Celine is queen. It’s probably the furthest back memory, the first song that made it on the playlist.
That had to be the hottest day of the whole summer.
Record highs or something. I’d already sweated through the light gray cropped shirt I was wearing, hauling boxes into Cooper’s and my shoebox dorm.
Headphones packed away, I shoved my phone in my back pocket while I moved in.
I was carrying up my last box when I walked through the open door, surprised to find Jordan, who I didn’t know yet, in the room.
“The day we met.”
Jordan shifts to face me, shocked. “Does every song correlate to a memory?”
“Maybe.” A teasing smile paints my face.
“Jaxon.”
“Jordan.”
“When did you start making this?”
“The day we met,” I repeat.
Another burst of surprise blooms on her face, settling into something I feel deep within me. I toy with the end of her hair, it’s down today. “Happy birthday, Blue.”