揑 don抰 feel like I helped at all,?I admit.
揧ou did,?he says too quickly. 揟hank you.?
Downstairs, Dahlia and Violet are busy hunched over their work. I walk Jordan to the door.
揙h, here.?I pull his sweatshirt over my head and hand it back to him, missing the heat of it instantly.
揝ame time and place tomorrow then??he asks, raising his voice so I can hear him over the noise.
At my nod, he waves and starts off.
揌ow was it??Violet pauses her sewing after I shut the front door.
揊ine.?I hurry upstairs.
揥e want details tomorrow,?Dahlia yells after me.
On any other night, I might sit downstairs and tell them everything while they work, but I抳e been itching to draw for the last hour.
Something on my bed catches my eye as I pull my chair over to the easel. I walk closer, and a smile tugs at my lips. Fun Dip.
12
DAISY
The next night Jordan appears on my doorstep just like the night before.
揌ey,?he says as he steps inside the house.
Violet and Dahlia were up late, but they finished their projects, and our first floor no longer looks like a fabric shop got hit by a tornado.
I lead him into the kitchen area where we have a small table that we sometimes use for studying. My laptop and notes are already set up. I put more thought into this tutor session than I did all my classes today.
Jordan came prepared today, too, with snacks and his energy drink.
揟hank you for the Fun Dip,?I say as I sit at the table.
揥hat抎 you think??
揑 think I went to bed with a sugar high.?
His deep chuckle fills the room. 揥here is everyone tonight??
揤iolet is at the library, I think Jane is upstairs, and Dahlia has a golf tournament this weekend, so she抯 gone until Sunday.?
揝he抯 a golfer??He bobs his head. 揘ice.?
We study for a while. I printed out some old quizzes, and we work through them together. Jordan picks up everything quickly. Even when I move to next week抯 chapter, he grasps the concepts and nods along. At some point, he turns on music, claiming he thinks better with background noise.
I thought he was full of crap, but I can see it. He mouths the words and taps his pencil, but he抯 in it, focused and working hard.
揧ou抮e different than I thought,?I say as he mouths along with an old Nirvana song.
His head pops up, and he leans back in his chair. 揌ow抯 that??
揑抦 not sure, exactly.?
揥ell, since my good looks are obvious, it must be my personality that you thought sucked.?
揧our personality doesn抰 suck.?
揈xactly.?He grins. 揊or the record, you抮e different than I thought too.?
揑 am??My insides are squishy thinking about Jordan giving me any thought at all.
Before he can tell me what he might have thought of me before, the front door opens, and Violet says, 揑抦 home.?
She walks straight back toward the kitchen but stops when she sees Jordan. 揧ou again.?
He juts a chin toward her. 揌ey, Violet.?
揇oes this mean I can抰 convince you to come out and celebrate??She waves her hand, indicating me and Jordan studying.
揅elebrate what??I ask.
揑 got an A on the dress, and my professor said it was my best design yet.?
揟hat is amazing. Congratulations.?I look over at Jordan, who has his phone in front of him, staring at the screen. 揥e抮e still working. Maybe tomorrow night??
Jordan pushes his chair back. 揂ctually, I totally forgot. I have bowling tonight.?
揃owling??Violet asks.
揑抦 in a league with a few buddies.?A shy smile pulls up one side of his mouth. 揑抦 sorry to cut this short.?
揑t抯 okay. Did you get what you needed??
揑 think so. Thanks for your help.?His smile makes my lips twitch to reciprocate the movement.
揘ow we can go out,?Violet says. She moves to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of white wine. 揂nyone else want a drink??
Jordan and I both shake our heads.
She pours herself a glass. 揑 haven抰 been bowling in forever.?
揥hat about you??Jordan motions his head toward me as he pushes back from the table.
揂re you asking me if I抳e ever bowled??
He nods.
揙f course.?
揑n the last five years??
揧es.?My voice climbs defensively. 揥e went last semester with a group.?
揝he抯 not bad,?Violet says as she leans against the counter.
I give him a smug, satisfied look.
揂ll right, sweet Daisy. Prove it.?He stands and hooks his backpack over one shoulder.
揚rove it how??
揥e抮e short a player tonight. Come fill in.?
揙h, no. I棓 All my excuses die on my tongue because they admit I抦 not really that good. I抦 not, but I抎 rather keep that to myself. 揑 can抰 tonight.?
揙kay.?He lifts his phone. 揑 guess I抣l just text Liam and see if he can recruit someone else.?
揕iam is on your bowling team??Violet asks.
揧eah. He抯 a founding member,?Jordan says.
Violet glances at me with wide, expressive eyes. She mouths, 揋o!?
The thought of embarrassing myself in rented shoes is almost enough to hold me back, but I blurt out, 揥e抣l come.?
揥e抣l??Violet asks, my insinuation clear.
揟hey have alcohol there, right??
Jordan nods. 揧eah. And food.?
I see the second that Violet gives in. She抯 the freaking best.
揙kay, fine,?she says. 揃ut one of you is buying me a drink.?
We ride with Jordan in his SUV. I sit in the front, second-guessing this decision. I do want more opportunities to talk to Liam, but I抦 not the most coordinated person, and he抯， well, he just is. He moves so gracefully and confidently. I抦 not a walking disaster or anything, but I didn抰 play sports as a kid and have mostly avoided them as an adult.
We抮e the first to get there for his team. Jordan checks in, and we抮e told to go to lane two. Jordan has his own ball, which for some reason, makes me giggle. I switch out my shoes and then go in search of my own ball while Jordan buys Violet a drink from the bar.
The selection is intense. I avoid anything pink and overly girly. I find a green one that isn抰 too heavy and fits my small hands pretty well, and I am about to head back when Liam抯 voice startles me.
揌ey, Daisy.?
I turn around to face him. An image of me dropping the ball on his foot flashes before me. Luckily for the both of us, I manage to hang on to the slippery ball.
揌i,?I respond, clutching it to my stomach.
揊ind a good one??His blond hair is covered with a white hat, and he抯 in a matching polo shirt.
揈xcuse me??
He points to the ball. 揟he right ball is everything.?
He scans the rack until he finds the one he抯 looking for.
揟here you are,?he says softly to the blue marble ball as he inserts his fingers and holds it up like he抯 refamiliarizing himself with it. He glances at me with a sheepish grin. 揑 panic every time that I won抰 be able to find it. It抯 lucky.?
We walk back over to the lane and put our balls down, then sit to wait for everyone else.
揌ow抯 your week going??he asks. He removes his hat and sets it on the bench next to him. He might be the only guy I know who can wear a hat and not get hat hair.
揋ood. Yours??
揘ot too bad.?He smiles. 揜eady for this??
揘ot really,?I admit. 揑抦 not very sporty.?
I flounce the hem of my skirt to further my point.
揂h, well. Don抰 worry.?He reaches into a bag underneath the bench and pulls out a shirt. He holds it up to show me the front with the name, Lucky Strikes.
揅ute.?
He hands it to me. 揥elcome to the team.?