More than Friends - Monica Murphy

by Monica Murphy

  Jordan.

  I can’t stop thinking about you.

  My smile can’t be contained as I read his text over and over. How should I respond? I need to say something cute. Something flirty. But my mind is drawing a total blank.

  I can’t stop thinking about you either.

  Not incredibly original, but it’s true.

  He immediately starts to text me back. I see the gray bubble and wait, sliding under the covers and rolling on my side, my gaze never leaving my phone screen as I wait for his response.

  You work today?

  Nibbling on my lip, I answer.

  From noon to six.

  What are you doing after?

  Hanging out with you? :)

  He doesn’t respond right away and I wonder if I screwed up. Ugh. I’m still not confident with this dating thing, especially the dating Jordan thing.

  A few minutes later he finally responds.

  Want to go out to dinner?

  I am giddy with excitement. It’s like a real date. I have to contain myself not to answer with a thousand exclamation points. I go for calm and collected instead.

  That sounds good.

  My phone buzzes with a text from Livvy as I wait for Jordan’s response.

  Tell me you were with Tuttle last night after the game.

  I smile.

  I was with Tuttle last night after the game.

  Yay!!!!!!! OMG!!!! What happened?????? I want deets!!!!

  There’s nothing much to tell.

  Meaning there is no way I’m telling her what happened between us last night. Forget that.

  You’re being a tease. Are you two getting together tonight too?

  I think so.

  Let’s double date! I bet Ryan would be up for it. I can ask him.

  I don’t know…

  We’re doing it. Let’s go to dinner together or something. It’ll be fun!

  Huh. Will he think it’s fun, to hang out with Liv and Ryan tonight instead of just the two of us? I don’t know.

  I need to ask him first.

  I already asked Ryan and he’s totally up for it.

  Man, she’s fast.

  Chewing on my lower lip, I go to text Jordan.

  Want to go to dinner with Ryan and Livvy?

  No. I’d rather be alone with you.

  We can’t always be alone, Jordan.

  Why not? That’s the way I like you. R&L will be a distraction.

  I want to be alone with you.

  I’m seriously blushing right now, and no one’s around to see it, so this is stupid.

  What if I got hungry?

  I’d always feed you.

  Thirsty?

  I’d bring you whatever you want to drink.

  You’re being silly.

  The phone rings, startling me. It’s Jordan.

  “Why are you calling?”

  “I needed to hear your voice.”

  Everything inside of me goes warm at his admission. “You really don’t want to go out with Ryan and Livvy tonight, huh.”

  He sighs, the sound rough and slightly disappointed. “Can’t we do that next weekend?”

  “Come on, Jordan. What’s the big deal?”

  He’s quiet for a moment and I worry I might’ve made him mad. My phone is dinging in my ear with new text alerts and I know they’re all from Livvy, but I can’t answer her.

  “I’d rather go out with them another time,” he says quietly “I just—I want to get to know you better, Amanda. I want to spend time with just you and no one else.”

  “Okay.” My heart is turning to mush. How can I make him go on a double date when all he wants is to spend time with me?

  I can’t.

  “What time are you done with work again?”

  “Not until six.” Realization dawns. “I don’t even have a ride to work.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  “What? No, you don’t have to do that.” Panic makes my heart race.

  “I want to. I’ll pick you up at your house.”

  “Jordan…”

  “What?”

  “My parents don’t know we’re—seeing each other.”

  “Okay.”

  “So they’ll be here.”

  “Do you not want me to meet them?”

  I don’t know how I feel about that. Mom freaked out when I mentioned Jordan and the party and all that craziness. Then he’s the boy who comes to pick me up to take me to work? Talk about awkward.

  “They sort of freak out when I date guys.” That’s not too far from the truth. They weren’t thrilled when I started dating Thad. But I’m seventeen—I can’t live like a nun my entire life.

  “I’ll probably scare the hell out of them,” he says with a warm chuckle.

  “You probably would,” I agree.

  “How about I just pick you up? You can call me a friend,” he suggests.

  “You are my friend.”

  “Really?” His voice deepens. “Is that all you think of me?”

  “Oh, you’re definitely more than a friend,” I tease.

  I hope he feels the same way.

  “Whose car is that sitting out in front of our house?” Mom asks as she ducks and peers through the living room window.

  I glance outside. Jordan’s black Range Rover is sitting there, idling by the curb. Within seconds of spotting him, my phone buzzes with a text.

  I’m here. You ready?

  “It’s my friend. He’s giving me a ride to work,” I say nervously as I type out my reply.

  Give me a minute. I’ll meet you out there.

  Mom, of course, picks up on my nerves. She studies me carefully, so carefully she freaks me out and I drop my phone on the hardwood floor with a loud clatter. “A male friend?”

  I nod, scooping up my phone and checking it for damage. Thankfully, there isn’t any. “He’s in a few of my classes. We’re working on a project together. For English. It’s focused on great literary couples.”

  Hitting her with boring stuff proves to be the distraction she needs. “English, hmmm? That’s nice, dear. His car looks very expensive.”

  “I guess it is?” I know it is, but playing dumb sometimes works too.

  “Very nice of him to drive you to work. I knew you could round some friends to help you.” And with that, she drifts out of the living room and heads to the kitchen. I nearly sag with relief.

  But I don’t have time to sag or be relieved. Or be annoyed she basically said, “I told you so,” without saying those words at all. I can’t worry about that. Instead, I gotta go to work.

  Grabbing the backpack I use for overnight stays—I packed clothes to change into after work—I sling it over my shoulder, calling out a, “Bye Mom, see you later!” before I slam the front door and dart down the walkway toward Jordan’s car.

  “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”

  I skid to a stop and turn to see my dad approaching. He’s dressed in ratty, faded black cargo pants and a white T-shirt that’s seen better days. He’s been working in the yard all morning and he’s filthy. But he loves it. He’s why our yard looks so good.

  “Um, work?”

  “He’s taking you?” Dad flicks his chin at the Range Rover.

  I nod and smile at him. “Yeah. He’s just a friend.” I hate that I’m downplaying what Jordan means to me, but I can’t make a big deal about him. Not right now. Mom would start questioning me and it would end up being a huge mess.

  “Some friend. Must be loaded.”

  “I guess so.” Okay, this conversation is awkward. Why are my parents so focused on his car?

  “What’s his name?”

  I sigh. “Do you want to meet him, Dad?”

  He grins. “Yes, Amanda. I’d love to.”

  Trying my best to shoot meaningful looks in Jordan’s direction, I lead my dad to the driver’s side of the car. I thought Jordan would roll down the window to talk to us, but instead he opens his door and hops out, his expression earnes
t, maybe even a little nervous.

  It’s so…cute.

  I smile at him and turn to look at my dad. “Dad, this is Jordan Tuttle. Jordan, this is my dad, Rick.

  “Hello, Mr. Winters.” Jordan holds out his hand and Dad shakes it. “Great to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you too, son. Your family is a part of Tuttle International?”

  Jordan’s jaw goes tight and his eyes turn cold. “Yes,” he bites out.

  But Dad doesn’t even notice. “How exactly do you know my daughter?”

  “Uh.” Jordan sticks his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, clearly uncomfortable. “We’ve gone to school together since kindergarten.”

  “Really?” Dad sounds surprised. “She’s never mentioned you before.”

  This is true. There’s no point in talking about Jordan Tuttle to my parents, when I never had a chance with him. Now, though, there’s a chance. And I guess I should’ve been talking about him.

  “Jordan’s always been in my honors classes, Dad,” I interject. “He’s also our varsity team’s quarterback.”

  Dad’s eyebrows rise. “Impressive. I’ve heard about you.”

  “Hope it was all good,” Jordan jokes. And he never jokes.

  My dad says nothing. I decide to speak up and end this conversation. I turn to face Jordan.

  “We gotta get going. I need to be at work in less than fifteen minutes.”

  “Then let’s go,” Jordan murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “So,” my dad says, and I wince, waiting for the bomb to drop. I can tell just by the way he’s taking. “Are you two dating, or what?”

  Oh, God. I just want to evaporate into thin air at Dad’s question. He’s so nosy. But then Jordan says the craziest thing.

  “We are, sir.” He flashes me a sweet smile.

  “Why haven’t we met you until now?” Dad’s demeanor changes in an instant. He’s standing up straighter, his gaze questioning as he checks Jordan out like he’s some sort of criminal.

  “We’ve only just started dating.” Jordan’s gaze locks with mine, his mouth curved in this intimate smile that makes me tingle. “But I really like her. A lot.”

  “Good,” Dad says gruffly, nodding. “Treat her with respect and we shouldn’t have a problem. Am I making myself clear?”

  “Dad.” I’m whining, but I don’t care. This conversation has made a mortifying turn. “I gotta go or I’ll be late.” I shift closer to my father and kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll see you later tonight, okay?”

  “Have a good afternoon, Amanda.” He smiles but then turns his icy gaze on Tuttle. “Nice meeting you, Jordan.”

  “Nice meeting you, too, Mr. Winters. Bye.”

  I walk over to the passenger side of the Range Rover and Jordan keeps pace, opening the car door for me. I climb inside and he shuts the door, rounds the front of the car and then he’s sitting behind the steering wheel, starting the car and smiling at me like we’re in on a private joke together.

  “What’s so funny?” I mutter. That conversation had been all sorts of awkward.

  “Your dad seems—nice.”

  “He can be very nice.” I pause. “But also very protective.”

  Jordan pulls onto the road. “I can tell. I’d be protective of you if you were my daughter too, I guess. Wouldn’t want some sleazebag kid who drives a Range Rover and plays football trying to feel up my daughter.”

  “Jordan.” He described my father to perfection. I’m sure that’s exactly what Dad’s thinking. “When you put it like that…”

  “Yeah, I know. I sound like an asshole.” He glances over at me. “But it’s probably the truth, right? That’s what your dad’s thinking?”

  I nod. “Maybe?”

  “I’ve never met a girl’s dad before,” he says conversationally, though I notice how he’s gripping the steering wheel extra tight. Did that encounter make him nervous?

  “You haven’t?”

  He shakes his head. “Always figured it was pointless. Would put too many ideas in a girl’s head.”

  “What sort of ideas?”

  “That I was serious about her.” He won’t look in my direction and I wonder why.

  “Are you saying that you’re—serious about me?” My heart starts pounding and I swear my palms are sweating. Why does that question and his answer freak me out so much?

  He gives me a trademark Tuttle smirk. “What do you think?”

  That is not a real answer. I’m about to question him further, but I decide against it and clamp my mouth shut.

  Maybe I don’t want to know the answer to that particular question.

  Maybe it’s best I leave well enough alone.

  We get to Yo Town less than ten minutes later and I’m about to hop out of the car when Jordan grabs my hand and stops me from leaving. “What?” I ask when I see the expectant look on his face.

  “You want me to pick you up at six, right?” He slowly slides his palm against mine, interlocking our fingers, his thumb rubbing my hand. A jolt of electricity shoots up my arm at the intimate touch.

  “Please. If you don’t mind.” I smile at him, but he acts like he’s not going to let me go any time soon. “I need to get inside, Jordan. I’m going to be late.”

  He tugs on my hand and pulls me closer. Then he kisses me, a soft yet lingering kiss, the both of us leaning over the center console. It’s sweet and romantic, and I tell myself I shouldn’t read too much into it.

  But I do. I can’t help it.

  “I definitely don’t mind,” he murmurs against my lips. “See ya later.”

  He gives me one last kiss and I almost fall out of the Range Rover when I climb out of it seconds later, I’m so dazzled by his talented lips. I practically float into Yo Town, like a girl with a major crush on the hottest boy in school.

  That description isn’t too far off the mark.

  “My parents want you to come over for dinner,” I tell Jordan over the phone, then mentally brace myself in anticipation of his answer. I tried to talk them out of it, but when I walked through the door last night at exactly 11:59 p.m., I found my parents sitting in the living room waiting up for me.

  “Were you with that boy?” Mom asked. “The one with the Range Rover?”

  “His name is Jordan Tuttle, sweetheart,” Dad told her.

  “Oh.” Mom’s face fell and I knew she remembered what I told her. “That boy who has the sex parties?”

  And that comment blows up the entire conversation—to the point where I felt like I was being questioned by the cops.

  “Are you two serious?”

  “Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Have you met his parents?”

  “Been to his house?”

  “Why didn’t you tell us about him before?”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “Is he in love with you?”

  “He is worth a lot of money, Amanda. More money than we could ever make in our lives.”

  They hit me with one question after another, until I wanted to run screaming from the house. Then Mom said I had to invite him over for dinner. “So. We can get to know him better.”

  Uh huh. They wanted to drill him like they drilled me last night.

  “When?” he finally asks, knocking me from my thoughts.

  “Um, tonight?” My voice squeaks and I clear my throat, hoping he doesn’t catch on to my nervousness.

  “You sound worried.”

  So much for that.

  “I’m not worried,” I reassure him. “It’s just that…I’m pretty sure you’re not going to say yes.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “You just told me you didn’t like to meet parents because it gives the girls false hope,” I remind him.

  “Well, I happen to like you, Amanda. There’s a difference.” He hesitates before he adds, “A big difference.”

  He says a few choice words and I want t
o melt into a puddle. “Will you come over for dinner, then?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  I sigh. “We should get this over with if you want to continue dating me.”

  “Is that what you’re calling it? What we’re doing?”

  “Dating?” Did I use the wrong word? Are we just an endless string of hook ups to him? I hope not. God, I really, really hope not, because I feel like a fool if that’s the case. A total and complete fool—

  “Yeah.” His voice deepens. “We are.”

  “Is that okay?” I ask carefully.

  “What do you think?”

  “I asked first.”

  “Well, when it comes to answering, I’m going with ladies first.” I can hear the amusement in his tone and it makes me laugh.

  “Whatever.” I hesitate. “Let’s say it together. At the same time.”

  “What exactly are we saying?”

  “You can say we’re dating, we’re hooking up or…” My mind searches for another word for what we’re doing. “Or we’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  “So serious,” he murmurs.

  “Stop. Okay.” I exhale loudly. “On the count of three.”

  “I never said I was down for this.”

  “Come on, Jordan,” I plead, laying it on thick. “Just go along with me. Please?”

  “Let’s do it.” He pauses. “One.”

  My stomach twists and I take a deep breath.

  “Two.”

  What am I going to say? What should I say?

  “Three,” Jordan says, pauses, then blurts out, “Girlfriend.”

  Right when I blurt out, “Dating.”

  We both go silent.

  “Did you just call me your girlfriend?” I’m incredulous.