Jordan makes a face as he stands, reaching across the table to grab my empty cup. “No thanks. I’m not the bring-home-to-family-dinner type.”
I say nothing as he tosses my cup in the trash. Instead, I follow beside him quietly, letting him guide me out of the shop with his hand pressed against my lower back. No way can I react to his touch or his closeness. He makes me feel vulnerable and unsure and I constantly second guess myself in his presence. In fact, the entire ride back to my house we remain quiet, the music playing softly, and I wish it could drown out my thoughts.
But it doesn’t. Instead I keep sneaking looks at Jordan while telling myself what we’re doing together is nothing. We’re nothing. I sit up straighter and think of the many ways I can tell him that whatever the heck we’re doing, it’s never going to work.
Maybe if I keep coming up with excuses, I’ll eventually believe them.
The moment he stops the Range Rover in front of my house, I open my mouth, ready to throw some lame this-won’t-work line at him. But he doesn’t even give me a chance. Instead, he’s eagerly reaching for me, like he knows I’m about to drop some it’s-not-you-it’s-me bomb. He pulls me into his muscular arms and presses his mouth to mine, silencing any and all protests I was about to unleash on him.
I lose approximately two hundred brain cells in the ninety seconds he thoroughly kisses me, and when he finally pulls away from my lips, I open my eyes and stare at him as if in a daze. His lips are damp and his hair is a mess—I think I might’ve done that, I have no clue—and his eyes are extra bright as he watches me. He even nods, like he’s pleased with his kissing results, and his smile is soft as he slowly releases his hold on me.
“See you tomorrow, Mandy.”
I practically collapse against the passenger door. “Okay,” I squeak, blindly reaching for the handle so I can open the door. I stumble out of the SUV and slam the door, turning to smile and wave at him as he starts to pull away.
Maybe we can make this work. Maybe we can be a real couple. Amanda and Jordan.
Jordan and Amanda.
Hmm, Amanda Tuttle does have a nice ring to it…
I frown. Okay, now I’m getting just a little out of control.
“Oh, God. You don’t know anything, do you?” Livvy says as she slips into my car, slamming the door so hard I wince. She turns in her seat so she’s facing me fully. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re so oblivious.”
“I’m oblivious to what exactly?” I can admit I’m in a Tuttle-induced haze. I sat through dinner last night staring off into space, which infuriated my father for some reason. Probably because I wasn’t talking much, and I’m usually the one they beg to shut up. When the family dinner ordeal was finally over, I locked myself away in my room and ransacked my closet, trying to find something cute to wear to school tomorrow. Something to make a certain boy drool…
But then I remembered it was Homecoming Week, which meant there were themed days where we dressed up. I couldn’t remember what Monday’s theme was and I couldn’t be bothered to look it up or ask anyone, so I chose a pair of my favorite jeans that make my butt look pretty good and a navy blue T-shirt—our school colors are blue and white—with a low V-neck. Maybe Tuttle would stare at my chest when he saw me wearing it.
I mean Jordan. Jordan might stare at my chest. And that would be awesome.
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Livvy says, her voice breaking through my thoughts and reminding me something awful is about to go down. I meet her gaze, noting the sympathetic look she’s sending me. And I also notice her eyes are rimmed with red and her cheeks are blotchy. Like she’s been crying.
Uh oh.
“What’s going on?” I ask when she still hasn’t said anything. I don’t like how she’s looking at me. Or the way she’s sniffing. This can’t be good.
“I figured you’d already seen it.”
“Seen what?” Now she’s just irritating me, and I think she knows it.
“Um, can I show you something?” She tilts her head toward the center console where my phone is sitting.
I almost forgot her mom took her phone away, so I grab mine, enter the password and then hand it to her. This is such a major show of trust, letting her into my phone. Crap, I wouldn’t even let Tara, my ex-best friend, into my phone, and I’d known her forever. But Liv and I have become especially close since school started, and I’m so grateful for her friendship. Without her I’d be lost, and I think she feels exactly the same about me.