The Row(20)

After I stop crying, I don’t move away even though I know I should. His chest is hard and strong beneath my head, and his fingers are warm over my shoulders as he steadies me. He smells like soap and something musky that makes me want to close my eyes and relax. My thoughts are out of my control and seem to go straight to my mouth without any kind of filter. “You smell so good. Did you just shower?”

He laughs in surprise and his breath is warm against the top of my head. “Yes. My dad made me play in a neighborhood football game tonight. I had to shower right after.”

“Are neighborhood games always this late at night?” I try to sit up straight, but can’t quite do it and end up leaning my head back against his shoulder because it’s feeling even heavier than before.

“No, it ended a few hours ago, but they start around dusk. It’s better to start late on really hot days.”

“Your dad made you play?” I try to scratch my nose, but end up nearly poking myself in the eye. “He’s not a fan of you quitting, huh?”

“No. Which is one of many reasons I was so glad to hear from you.” Jordan grunts, and his grimace makes him look much older. I sit back and look at him again. “The house is uncomfortable after we have chats like that.”

“Many reasons?” I ask. My cheeks feel hot, but then I frown. Jordan is swaying and it’s making me dizzy. I almost ask him to stop before I realize that it isn’t him that’s moving. It’s me.

“Maybe it’s time for you to go home?” Jordan reaches a hand out to steady me and pulls me up to my feet. Taking my elbow in his hand, he begins guiding me toward the parking lot. “Did you bring anything with you to the park besides your friend in the bottle?”

“No. It was just us.” Walking seems to make everything worse, and I’m feeling a little sick. “And I’m not sure he’s my friend.”

“Probably not.” He chuckles.

We’re almost to the parking lot when I jerk quickly to my left, ripping my elbow from his hand and stumbling away. I put suitable distance between us just in time to throw up my not-friend all over the grass.

After a couple of minutes, I manage to stop hurling, but my throat burns and my stomach hurts and I’m sure I smell like vomit. When I head back toward where Jordan waits, he begins walking to meet me.

I hold up a hand and weakly blurt out, “As a girl with a very tiny hope of still being able to look you in the eyes after today, please don’t come too close.”

He stops abruptly and laughs. “Fine, but you can’t drive home.”

“I know, but I can walk. I don’t live too far from here and I can walk over to get my car in the morning.” I stumble over my own feet, but somehow manage not to face-plant.

Jordan is already shaking his head. “How about a compromise? I’ll drive you home in your car?”

I tilt my head in confusion. “But then you’ll be at my house … you don’t live there.”

“I know.” Jordan laughs again, louder this time. “It will be fine. I’ll just walk back to get my bike.”

My eyes widen. “You came here on a bike?”

He grins and the skin around his eyes crinkles. “Different kind of bike. I have a motorcycle.”

I shake my head far too fast and then have to stop and breathe. “I don’t know how to ride one of those.”

“I was afraid of that. And doing it drunk the first time isn’t the best plan.” He winks at me and I see he’s come closer again.

I take a step to the side. “So you can jog back here in the middle of the night and I can’t walk home now?”

He lowers his chin and stares at me. “Are you really saying that it is the same to let you walk home, wasted and alone, as it is for me to jog back here sober? You’re too cute, and I don’t know these neighborhoods very well. Don’t fight me on this one.”

“Ugh, fine.” I tug my keys out of my pocket and hand them to him, then walk slowly toward my car. I throw him a frail smile over my shoulder. “I should’ve called Matthew. I bet he’s less stubborn.”

“You’ve never seen him at bedtime.”

I climb unsteadily into the passenger seat. “That bad, huh?”

“Plus, he can’t drive. Trust me, I’m the best option for you.” He turns the car key and I smile to myself as I lean my heavy head back against the seat. His assessment just might be the most truthful thing I’ve heard in days.





9

SUNLIGHT HAS NEVER SEEMED SO EVIL BEFORE. I vaguely remember liking it at some point, but right now it seems like it’s trying to drill a hole through my eyelids and into my brain. I want someone to make it stop. Groaning, I pull my pillow out from under my head and place it on my face to block out the light. It works, but even the pressure from my pillow feels like it might make me throw up.

I tug the pillow off and moan as I roll toward the edge of my bed. Everything hurts. This is what alcohol does? Why the hell do people even drink? This is so not worth it.

A light knocking sounds on the door, and I realize I don’t remember getting home last night. Much of the night feels blurry, actually. I blink and sit up quickly, relieved to see that I am, in fact, in my room. Then my head explodes with new pain and I lower it into my hands as I hear the door open.