More Than Friends (Friends #2)

Um, wow. That had been a major moment. We didn’t have actual sex, but it was close enough. I’ve never been that naked—literally—with a boy before. And we were naked. I had my mouth on his…


God. I can’t even think it, let alone say it out loud. I tried to do my best, but half of the time it felt awkward, though he certainly never protested. Did I drive him away with my lack of skills? He definitely didn’t complain while it happened. Or afterward either. Yet I feel like I messed up, or worse...

I feel like every other girl he’s been with. And eventually dumped.

I can’t think about it too much, though. If I do, I’ll just end up sad. Depressed.

Devastated.

So yeah. I sent Tuttle a Snapchat Sunday morning and he never replied. I’m worried about him, about us, yet there are so many things I need to focus on right now. I saw my counselor yesterday afternoon and she gave me the fattest packet of scholarship and grant forms I’d ever seen. Plus she handed over a list of website URLs that are full of lesser-known scholarships. My eyes crossed just thinking about all the forms I’ll need to fill out. And we’re barely into October.

I tell myself I don’t have time to worry about Jordan. I don’t have time to worry about anything. I need to be on autopilot and just work through one thing after another. Going to class, picking up the pace at yearbook, afterschool water girl duty, Friday night game water girl duty, working, homework, college applications, scholarship applications, helping out at home…

The list is endless. The more I don’t see Jordan, the more I realize I don’t need a boyfriend. Or even a guy I occasionally see. He’s a distraction.

A distraction who will get me off track if I don’t watch it.

But I miss him. My heart aches without him around. Without hearing his voice, seeing his rare smiles, feeling his hands on me. I miss everything about him, and it sucks because he doesn’t seem to miss me at all.

It’s like I don’t matter to him. Like I never mattered.

It’s Wednesday afternoon right after lunch when I pop my locker open and a note folded into a perfect rectangle falls out, landing on the floor. I grab it and open the note with trembling fingers. It’s handwritten instead of typed, and I know from the moment I read the first word it’s from Jordan, and it’s part of our English assignment. I still haven’t shared my entry with him yet.

Where once I said my heart was made of wondrous light, now it is dark. Heavy. Angry. For only she can bring me light, and now that I’ve lost her, the light is gone. Banished.

She is the only one who can make me feel, but without her, I am numb. We were young and stupid, and if I could go back in time and change my actions, I would.

But I can’t. A foolish heart beats like no other, and mine is the most foolish of hearts. The damage has been done. I have lost the girl.

Yet she will never lose me. Not if she looks deep inside her heart.

For now, I hold onto my dreams. For now, I hope for more wondrous light. I hope for my love to come back into my life.

For now, I hold onto Juliet.

My heart breaks at his words. This entry is short but pointed. He writes these things and they feel so real. I’ve poured my real feelings for him into my diary entries and can’t help but think he must do the same.

Carefully refolding the note, I stash it into the front pocket of my backpack and start heading to class. He must be here. He has to be, since I got the note. This means I will see him in English.

The nervous energy starts pouring through my body, making me jittery. And that has nothing to do with the giant Coke I drank during lunch. It’s brought on by the mere thought of possibly being with Jordan.

And a few minutes later, when I’m making my way toward the classroom and I actually see Jordan, standing to the side and looking down the hall like he’s waiting for me, I slow my pace. Try my best to look nonchalant. Like I haven’t been anxiously searching for him for days.

When he spots me, the faintest smile curls his perfect lips, his gaze never leaving me as I approach.

Everything comes rushing back. He has that cool, calm Jordan Tuttle aura going on, and all I can see is that one moment when I made him lose control on Saturday night. The way he groaned my name. How he hauled me into his arms when it was over, his body still trembling, his mouth on mine, our naked bodies entwined.

I’m flushed just thinking about it. But I need to remain chill. That is my number one goal.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” I say, hip checking him when he falls into step beside me. I hope I sound casual, but it’s so difficult. What I really want is to ask him a ton of questions. But that turns me into the needy girlfriend, and I’m positive he doesn’t like that sort of thing.

He grabs hold of me, his arm sneaking around my waist. “Missed you,” he murmurs as he presses his face into my hair, quickly kissing my temple.

I smile, hoping I seem mysterious. Like nothing bothers me. “Where have you been?”