The ducks swarm around us for a while in search of more snacks, but eventually they give up and head back out into the water. Jordan and I remain in the same position, both of his arms wrapped around me now, squeezing me tight. He leans down so he can rest his chin on my shoulder and I tilt my head to the side, my knees weakening when I feel his warm breath waft across my neck.
“Wanna make out in the back seat of my Rover? Like that one song by the Chainsmokers?” He says the last few words against my skin, his mouth tickling. I laugh, turning so that our gazes meet.
“You really want to make out in the back seat of your car?” I lift my brows.
“We have at least an hour before we have to get back for detention.” He lowers his voice, his gaze locked on my mouth. “And I’d make out with you wherever you’d let me, Amanda.”
I pull out of his arms and take his hand, leading him back to his car. I’m giddy, my stomach fluttering with a thousand butterflies in anticipation of what we’re about to do. “Let’s go make out then.”
He’s grinning. And it’s so cute he takes my breath away. I like seeing him like this. Playful and light, as if he has no worries in the world. I don’t think he gets enough of this in his life.
Maybe I can give that to him.
I let him take the lead as he goes to unlock the back door of his Range Rover, and he holds it open for me, the grin still plastered on his face. I get in and he climbs in after me, shutting the door behind him, cutting off the outside noise. All I can hear is my heart hammering in my ears and I take a deep breath, wondering which one of us is going to kick this off first.
“Come here,” he murmurs, grabbing my hand and tugging me close.
I go willingly, until I’m sitting on top of him, my legs spread around his hips, knees braced on the seat. He tilts his head back and leans against the headrest, his gaze roaming over my face.
“How’d I get so lucky?” he asks, his voice soft.
“What do you mean?”
“Having you back in my life. You should’ve told me no. You should’ve told me to stay the hell away from you.” He reaches for my face and cradles my cheek, his thumb stroking over my skin back and forth. Back and forth. Mesmerizing me. “But you didn’t. I’m thankful for that. For you. You’re the only good thing in my life right now.”
His words break my heart. It makes me sad, all the love he hasn’t experienced. He wears such a tough shell, never letting anyone close for fear of getting hurt. Not that he’d ever say that. He wouldn’t call it getting hurt. He doesn’t believe he is hurt.
But he so is. He’s damaged. Though not broken. I can’t fix him, I don’t want to fix him, but I can be there for him and show him what it’s like. That it’s okay to let love into your life.
Oh, I sound corny in my own head, but it’s true.
He slides his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me down toward his mouth. “Do you think this is too public a place?” I ask just before he kisses me.
He lifts his lids, his gaze meeting mine. “I don’t really care who sees me kissing you, Amanda. And I don’t think there are any PDA police patrolling the park, so we should be good.”
I laugh, but he smothers the sound with his mouth, silencing me completely. It’s a hesitant kiss at first, a little unsure, which is totally unlike Jordan Tuttle. We take it slow, our lips lightly connecting. Breaking apart. Reconnecting. Lingering longer with every pass. His fingers tighten around my nape and I run my hands up his chest, feeling every defined muscle beneath his tight shirt until I’m clutching his broad shoulders.
His other arm slides around my waist just as he parts my lips with his tongue. I open for him easily, a low moan leaving us both when our tongues connect. Our hands roam as our kiss deepens, and when his hand slips beneath the hem of my sweater, his hot fingers pressing into my bare skin, a full body shiver moves through me.
“You’re always so responsive,” he whispers against my neck after he breaks the kiss. His mouth is hot against my sensitive skin and I shiver yet again. “I wish we had time to go back to my house.”
“Jordan,” I whisper, a whimper escaping me when he gently bites my neck. That shouldn’t feel so good, I swear. “Isn’t it fun to just…kiss for a while? And nothing else?”
He lifts away from my neck and faces me, his gaze slumberous, his lips swollen from the kisses we just shared. Chill bumps race over my skin at the way he’s looking at me. Like he wants to—devour me. It’s hot. He’s hot. “Yeah.” His voice is rough and he clears his throat. “Though with you, I always want more.”
His admission makes me brave. “I want more too.” I lean in, pressing my forehead against his and closing my eyes. “But I’m—scared.”
“Of what?” He strokes my hair away from my face, his fingers gently raking through the strands, and I want to purr like a kitten. “Of me?”
“Of everything. Of giving myself to you and never being able to get it—me back.” I bite my lip, worried. Should I have just admitted that? I lift my forehead away from his and open my eyes to find him already watching me.
He frowns, his brow creasing. “What do you mean? I’ll only take what you’re willing to give me, Amanda. I would never push you for anything.”
“I know, and you never have pushed me.” I touch his cheek, run my fingers along his jawline, the stubble there sharp against my fingertips. “And we’ve done a lot, but…it’s still scary, you know?”
“We’ll take it slow.” He kisses me. A warm, sweet kiss that makes my heart feel like it’s going to fly right out of my chest. “I promise.”
We kiss some more, and I’m in no hurry to stop this. A car pulls up beside Jordan’s and a butt load of kids fall out of it, all of them screaming as they run toward the pond. I barely notice.
Jordan doesn’t notice at all. He’s too intent on making me want to lose my mind with his mouth.
“Should we go back to school?” I ask fifteen minutes later. I’m out of breath. My mouth is sore and my entire body feels charged with electricity.
“Yeah. Soon,” he murmurs just before he kisses me again.
And I let him. I need the distraction.
At least for a little bit.
Friday night. It’s the regional championship game and it’s at home. Jordan and I only served one day of detention before Coach Halsey lost his mind and went to Mrs. Maddox, demanding that she excuse the rest of the detention “sentence” for the both of us.
I don’t know what Coach Halsey said to her, but she dismissed us from detention with no argument.
I’ve spent the entire week with Jordan. I’m too annoyed with Livvy to hang out with her and she knows it. I think it’s her guilty conscience that’s keeping her away from me too. She still hasn’t broken up with Ryan. And I’m sure she’s still seeing Dustin on the side.
So not cool.
The football team has had longer practices throughout the week to prepare for the biggest game of the season, so I’ve focused all my energy on my hydration station duties. Kyla and I have been working—and talking—nonstop. Spending so much time together has helped us get closer. I like her a lot. I consider her a good friend, and I hope she considers me one too.
But yeah. It’s Friday night and the stadium is full of people on both sides. The crowd is roaring and waving signs, but the game hasn’t even started yet. The band is playing in the stands, getting everyone pumped up and Kyla is pacing behind the hydration station, her constant back-and-forth and the intense expression on her face making me nervous.
“You’re freaking me out,” I tell her when I can’t take it any longer.
“Why aren’t you already freaked out? Your boyfriend is about to play the most important game of his life at this very moment, and you’re acting like it’s no big deal.” Kyla shakes her head, clearly exasperated with me. “There are recruiters here tonight. I’m sure all of them will be watching him play.”
“I’m sure,” I say as I glance around the field. The boys are a
lready out there, tossing the ball back and forth to each other with ease. Trying to intimidate the other team, I guess. I turn to look at Kyla. “Do I look stupid?”
Her eyes go wide. “What do you mean?”
“I mean this.” I point at the number eight I drew on my cheek in sparkly blue paint. “What I’m wearing. Is it too much?” My hair is in a high ponytail, tied with blue and white ribbon. I’m wearing a long-sleeved white T-shirt beneath one of Jordan’s old jerseys, which he brought to school for me a couple of days ago. So yes, his last name is emblazoned on the back of the shirt, along with his number.
“I think you look cute. You’re supporting your boy.” Kyla smiles and her eyes sparkle. I know she means what she says. “And the Tuttle jersey is a nice touch. I’m sure when Lauren sees that she’ll lose it.”
“Please.” I make a dismissive noise. “She’s too into Eli right now.”
Kyla bursts out laughing. “That is just the weirdest matchup ever.”
“Not really. I think they’re perfect for each other,” I say sarcastically.
“Kind of like you and Tuttle?” Kyla raises a delicate brow.
“Exactly!” I clap my hands and bounce up and down like…a cheerleader. What’s wrong with me? Oh, I know. I’m finally nervous and excited about tonight. This is the ultimate make-or-break game for our team. “Hey, can you take a picture of me for my Snapchat story?”
“Yeah, sure,” Kyla says. “How do you want to pose?”
I’ve had this pose in my head for weeks, because I’m weird and obsessive like that. I hand Kyla my phone and then turn so my back is to her, showing off Tuttle’s name and number. I’m glancing over my shoulder with a knowing smirk, the eight on my cheek and my hands on my hips.
Kyla takes one photo and checks it. Deletes it, then takes another, repeating the process until she’s satisfied. “What do you think?” she finally asks when she hands my phone back to me a few minutes later.
I stare at the photo, pleased that it looks exactly how I envisioned it. “It’s good.” I glance up at her with a frown. “It’s not too much, is it?”
“No, it’s perfect. Girls will die. Tuttle will love it. It’ll be so obvious the two of you are together.” Kyla nods her approval with a smile. “Now post it. Then go find him and wish him good luck, okay? I think he needs it. He looks antsy.”
I turn toward the field and spot him out there, yelling at one of his teammates. Yeah, I bet he is antsy. And nothing I can do or say will calm him down, though I’ll try my best.
Focusing on my phone, I tap out a caption for the photo before I post it to my story.
Good luck tonight, Jordan! You got this! #TuttleisBae #eightisgreat
I can’t help giggling as I stash my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and make my way to the sidelines in search of Jordan. I stop next to Coach Halsey, who is screaming his head off so loud he’s making me wince. I take a step away from him and he sends me a sheepish grin just before he launches into another tirade, cupping his hands around his mouth so everyone can hear him.
Like they can’t already.
“Amanda.” Jordan takes off his helmet and is jogging toward me, his mouth grim, his gaze steely. I know that look. He is in full on concentration mode, and a shiver moves through me. It’s sexy when he’s so intense. “You okay?”
Look at him, concerned about me when he should be focused on the upcoming game. “I’m fine.” I smile and take a step toward him. “How are you?”
“Trying to keep my shit together,” he says in all seriousness.
I want to laugh, but I don’t. Instead I move even closer, grab hold of his hand and interlace our fingers. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”
His eyes are warm as they scan my face, lingering on my cheek. “I like seeing my number on you.”
“Do you?” I raise my brows. “I feel like I’ve been branded.”
Just like that his eyes shine with a possessive gleam. “Yeah. I really like it.” His voice lowers and then he’s pressing a quick kiss to my lips. I can feel the coach glaring at us, probably dying to say something, but he doesn’t. “Now everyone knows you belong to me.”
“There you go again, acting all possessive.” I act like I’m complaining, but his words send a shiver down my spine.
“You love it.” He knows me too well, and when he kisses me again, it’s like Coach Halsey can’t take it anymore.
He explodes. “Tuttle! Get your skinny ass over here. Now!”
Jordan sends me an apologetic smile and I squeeze his hand. “Good luck,” I whisper. “You’ve totally got this.”
“Thanks, baby,” he whispers, and oh my God, I want to faint when he calls me baby. I am such a girl, I swear.
I watch him go, startled by the subtle clearing of someone’s throat coming from behind me. I whirl around to find of all people standing there but…
Em.
“Hey,” I say weakly. “Long time no see.”
“How’s it going, Amanda?” Her chin-length hair is tucked behind her ears, there’s a lot of black liner circling her eyes, and she’s wearing a white choker along with a navy blue T-shirt and white and blue stripes painted on both of her cheeks. I don’t think I’ve ever looked so school spirited.
“It’s really…good,” I admit, realizing that I mean every word. Things really are good. Like extra good.
“That’s—good.” Em smiles, and we both laugh.
“Why are you here on the sidelines?” I ask. I don’t recall ever seeing her attend a football game before, but hey, maybe she’s here for…
“I came down to wish Cannon good luck. He asked me to.” Her cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink. “He said he needed a good luck charm, so I offered to be his for tonight.”
My eyebrows go up, but I say nothing. I don’t want to freak her out. Em’s even more skittish about relationship-type stuff than Jordan ever was.
“Want to stay down here with us and work the hydration station during the game?” I ask. That way she can stay close and it’ll probably be so crazy, we’ll need the extra hands.
Em appears taken aback by my offer and she slowly shakes her head. “Oh, I couldn’t do that. I don’t think.” She hesitates, shifting on her feet. “Really? You don’t mind?”
“As long as you don’t mind us putting you to work, yeah, we could use the help.” I look over my shoulder to find Kyla standing nearby. “You don’t mind if Em helps us tonight, do you?”
“No way, that’s a great idea. I’m sure we can put her right to work.” Kyla smiles and waves at Em. “Hey, Emily.”
I had no idea they knew each other. Being isolated in band for all those years, it was all I focused on, so I didn’t pay attention to other friendships.
“Hi, Kyla.” Em takes a deep breath, her gaze meeting mine, a fixed smile on her face. “Fine. I’ll help you guys, but don’t get mad if I screw up.” She sounds put out, but I know she’s faking it.
I know she wants to be close to the field so she can watch her boy.
“There’s no way you can screw up. Trust me.” I take her arm, link it through mine and lead her over to the hydration station. “Besides, this way you can keep watch on your boy all night. It’s a win-win situation.”
“He’s not my boy,” she mutters, but I send her a knowing look, calling her on her bullshit without saying a word. She briefly sags against me and ducks her head with a laugh. “Fine. It’ll be nice to watch my—boy—while being so close to the game. You got me.”
“It’s okay to admit you like him,” I tell her quietly as we go behind the hydration station. I let go of her arm but she stays close, her gaze meeting mine. “It’s not a crime to care about someone.”
Her gaze drops and she gives a little shrug of her slender shoulders. She looks so tiny, so vulnerable, and I swear even her chin wobbles. Like she might cry. When she lifts her gaze to mine once more, though, her eyes are dry and all that raw vulnerability disappears like it was never even there. “It’s jus
t hard to believe something can be this—good,” she admits. “That someone can be so nice and fit with you so perfectly, like you were meant to be. It’s almost too easy. And that’s scary. Do you know what I mean?”
I think of Jordan. I wouldn’t call our relationship easy, but this past week, it’s been exactly that. Easy. Fun. Perfect. “I know exactly what you mean,” I murmur.
And I do.
We’re winning.
Barely.
I don’t want to jinx myself or the rest of the team, but I’m feeling confident for the first time since the game started. It’s almost done too. With a little less than two minutes left in the fourth quarter and us ahead by ten, the rest of my team is strutting around like they’ve already got this. High-fiving each other on the sidelines, sitting on the bench, and out on the field between plays. With plenty of smack talk going back and forth with the other team, the air is full of frustration, adrenaline and testosterone.
But we shouldn’t get too confident. The other team is getting ready to score a touchdown, and I’m pretty sure those bastards are going to do it too, which means we need to score another touchdown, or at least a field goal, to cinch this game. A field goal would be nice, but I don’t think it’s good enough.
I need to throw that last touchdown. I want the glory moment. I want whoever catches it to have that glory moment too. Ryan and I have been talking it over the last few minutes while watching our defense work their damnedest to hold the opposing team back, and we have a plan in action.
A plan we don’t tell Coach Halsey, though hopefully he’s confident enough to realize we won’t let him down, especially when what we’re planning is in our playbook. We’re still going by the rules.
We’re just doing it on our own terms.
“Go get hydrated, stat, before you head back out onto that field. You two have played extra hard tonight,” Halsey says from behind us, making Ryan and me turn to look at him. Coach’s mouth is set in a grim line, his eyes narrowed. He’s sweating profusely and his face is red. He looks like he’s going to have a heart attack at any moment and drop to the ground.
Forever: A Friends Novel Page 16
