揘o, not really.?
揟hirsty??
揑抦 okay.?
揂 walk then??
揑f it will help.?
揑t couldn抰 hurt. There抯 a gas station up the street.?He starts toward the door, leaving his backpack. He glances back when I don抰 follow. 揂re you coming??
Violet and Dahlia are nowhere to be found downstairs, but the evidence of their work is still strewn around.
揥hoa,?Jordan says as he takes it all in. 揑t looks like this room exploded. How long were we up there??
揟his is how they are when they have a big project due. They take over the entire first floor. Fabrics and threads, measuring tapes, and scissors.?I look at him. 揤iolet owns like ten different ones and still can never find a pair.?
揥hy do they call it a pair??he asks. 揂 pair of scissors sounds like they come in two.?
揑t抯 a plural tantum.?
His mouth quirks up on both sides.
Even in the cool night air, I feel my cheeks warm under a blush. 揕ike jeans or pants.?
He抯 quiet a second and then says with a smirk, 揙r panties.?
We lock eyes in the darkness, and my heart flutters.
The gas station is on the next block. We walk up the street and stop at the intersection.
Jordan hits the crosswalk button. 揇o they take over the first floor a lot??
揤iolet and Dahlia??
He nods.
揙nce a week or so. Sometimes they go to the design lab, but Violet says she抯 more inspired at home where she can play her music loudly and keep late hours.?
揂nd Jane??
揝he is a music major, but she spends a lot of time in her room.?
He hangs on my every word. 揂nd what about you??
揥hat about me??
揥hat do you do when they抮e taking over your first floor and blasting tunes all night??
揙h, I don抰 mind.?
The light changes, and we cross the street at a clip. The gas station/quickie mart smells like burnt coffee. I hang back and let Jordan grab what he wants, which includes a bag of chips, Twizzlers, two energy drinks, and a pack of gum.
揧ou don抰 want anything??he asks as he places his items on the checkout counter.
揘o thanks.?I peruse the items up front and smile at the Fun Dip packets. 揑 didn抰 know they still made these.?
揟hey抮e classic. No childhood is complete without Fun Dip and candy necklaces.?
I run my hand along the pack and then pull it back. 揑 wasn抰 allowed to have either of those as a kid.?
揧ou抳e never had Fun Dip??Jordan asks, disbelief in his tone as one dark brow lifts.
I shake my head and move to the other side of him, closer to the door. He pays, and we head back outside.
Jordan opens the chips before we抳e crossed the parking lot. He tosses one in his mouth, chews, and asks, 揥hat kind of deprived childhood did you lead, sweet Daisy??
I swear he says things just to see me blush, which I, of course, do. 揑 wasn抰 deprived. I had candy and junk food sometimes.?
揝ometimes??
揂t birthday parties and Halloween, Easter, that kind of thing.?
He nods thoughtfully, and we walk across the street back toward the house.
揧ou didn抰 answer my question earlier,?Jordan says. 揥here do you hang out when they take over for these wild and crazy design sessions??
The wind blows my hair around my face. I tuck it behind my ears and hug my arms to my stomach. 揑n my room or棓
揌old up.?He stops, sets the bag on the ground, and removes his hoodie. When he thrusts it in my direction, I stare at it, unsure what to do.
揟ake it. You抮e obviously cold.?
I wrap my fingers around the soft fabric, hand still outstretched. He nods, encouraging me.
揟hanks.?My pulse kicks up a notch as I pull his sweatshirt on over my head. It抯 warm and smells faintly like fabric softener and something else I can抰 quite place.
揥elcome.?
We continue in silence. Most of the houses along the street are quiet. The lights are on inside, but the yards and driveways are still. I walk this street almost every day, but I抦 usually in a hurry one way or the other.
Jordan抯 long strides are slow, and his gaze roams around, taking it all in as he eats his chips. I get the feeling very little studying is happening tonight.
I take a step, looking over my shoulder at him as I do. 揟here抯 a tree house in the back yard.?
His stare focuses on me, and my pulse races higher.
揝ometimes I go out棓
揥atch out!?
Brakes squeal against the pavement, and a flurry of red light flashes in front of me before I抦 yanked backward, swallowing my words, and slamming into his chest.
A shocked gasp escapes as I glance from the car backing out of the driveway and into Jordan抯 dark eyes.
揙h my gosh.?
He curses under his breath.
My hands tremble. 揟hank you. I didn抰 see it.?
揘o shit.?His voice is quiet but forceful. He steadies me and steps away.
The guy in the car rolls down the passenger side window. He抯 a Valley student. I know because I see him walking toward campus sometimes. 揑抦 so sorry. They should really put streetlights up. Are you both okay??
揥e抮e fine,?Jordan answers, his voice like ice. 揝treetlights don抰 make you a better driver. Try watching where you抮e going.?
The guy pales.
揑t was my fault,?I say, but the driver is inching backward while rolling up his window.
Jordan抯 steps toward my house get quicker. 揌e should have been looking where he was going.?
揑 should have too.?
He stops in front of my house. Anger radiates off him, but I watch as he reins it in. 揧ou could have been seriously hurt because that asshole wasn抰 paying attention.?
I抦 at a loss for how to respond. I don抰 know if he抯 pissed at me or the driver, or both.
揧ou抮e okay??His voice softens.
揑抦 good,?I say.
When we get inside, Violet and Dahlia are in the living room, sitting on the floor with their sketchbooks and iPads laid out in front of them.
揥here抎 you two go??Violet asks.
揋as station,?I answer.
Jordan lifts the bag. 揂nyone need snacks??
They both shake their heads.
I follow Jordan back up to my room. He sits on the chair in front of my desk, digging through the bag. He frees the Twizzlers, opens it, and pulls out two. He separates the strands of candy and offers one my way.
揘o thanks.?
揕ive a little.?
揑抳e had licorice, and I don抰 like it.?
揌as bad taste in candy. Noted.?He winks and bites off the end of both candies. He抯 back to the carefree guy of earlier, and I guess that means he抯 forgiven me for nearly getting squashed in front of him.
I point to my laptop. 揗aybe it would help if we went over the last quiz??
He nods.
Over the next half hour, I talk through each question on our last physics quiz. He asks me to explain a few points further, but I don抰 really feel like I抦 being that helpful.
A text notification on his phone interrupts us on the final question.
He taps out a response before giving me his attention. 揝orry.?
揑t抯 okay. I think we抮e done with physics unless you have more questions??
揙h.?He pockets his phone again. 揢hh. No. I抦 good.?
揇o you want to work on statistics??
揑 should probably get out of your hair for tonight.?
I never really cared about being a good tutor, but the thought of him walking out of here no better off than when he came in doesn抰 sit well with me. I抦 not good at a lot of things, but physics and math I can do.
揥hat about tomorrow night??I offer.
He抯 quiet a beat as he studies my face. 揋lutton for punishment??