Letters to Nowhere(17)

“Better safe than sorry,” I teased. “You might not have me to interrupt you next time.”

“You could have given us hours more and I still wouldn’t have needed these.” He examined the box closely. “Besides, they’re not extra large.”

I snorted a laugh.

I found the correct size/style/color/scent of tampons and moved on to the beauty care aisle to get hair ties, gel, and bobby pins. Jordan kept fairly quiet, but seemed unable to stop himself from touching every item on the shelf like a four–year–old.

It occurred to me after a few minutes that maybe he was nervous, though I couldn’t imagine why.

“So, what’s he like?” Jordan asked after the weird silence had fallen on us for much too long. “As a coach, anyway?”

“Your dad?” He nodded. “He’s different from my old coach.”

“Like how?” He sounded totally casual, but I could hear something hidden behind his words. Something more than curiosity.

“He’s quiet. So much that sometimes I’m screaming corrections inside my own head just to fill the space.”

“He knows exactly what he’s doing, too,” Jordan said. “By not saying anything. It’s like my head is spinning sometimes, trying to gauge how pissed he is or if he even gives a shit at all.”

“Exactly.” My eyes met his, knowing that even though we had these thoughts in common, all this was different for me. I didn’t need Coach Bentley to give a shit about me. But Jordan did. It’s his dad. It was also none of my business, so I redirected the conversation. “He totally screwed with my head today. It was genius. Complete genius.”

I explained the deal we had made with the new release move and all the requirements that now rested on me.

Jordan laughed really hard as the checkout lady bagged up my items. “Oh man, he’s good. Very good.”

“I know, right?”

In the car, I decided to distract myself by asking him some personal questions. “So what’s her name? Your girlfriend?”

He laughed again, glancing at me with shining eyes as another car’s headlights beamed into us. “I’m assuming you mean Sara. And she’s not my girlfriend. We were supposed to be doing a project together.”

I laughed. “How’d that work out for you?”

“It cost me two hours of sleep last night,” he said with a yawn. “Sara’s not exactly the studious type, so it was left to me to finish the assignment. Lesson learned, right?”

“Somehow I doubt that.” I stuck my hand out in front of him. “Can I see your cell phone?”

When he handed it over, I typed quickly into the phone before returning it. “There. Now you have my number. If you’re ever studying again, you can text me and I’ll wait outside the door in the cold if I have to, but I won’t interrupt.”

“That’s kind of you,” he joked.

“No,” I said, turning serious again. “It’s kind of your dad to let me stay with you guys. I just want you to know that I’m not going to forget that I’m a guest in your house.”

Jordan was silent for a couple minutes, staring at the road ahead of us. “I think I need to see this new release move of yours. I heard Stevie’s back in the gym again?”

I didn’t need to ask what he meant by that. The intentions dripped from his tone. I threw him a disgusted look. “So, you make out with Sara for fun, have a weird fantasy about Stacey who happens to be married, lactating, and way too old for you, and now you’re obviously interested in seeing Stevie in a leotard. Are all boys like this?”

“First of all,” Jordan said. “Guys, not boys. Second…yes, I’m pretty sure we are all like this. Unfortunately. But if you promise never to share this information, I could let you in on a little secret.”

“I promise.” I turned my body toward him and away from the view of the road.

“Most of what guys say is all talk,” he admitted. “Not always intentional exaggerations, either. Just us chickening out. So, if you want to know what a guy is really like, my best advice for you is to pay attention to what he does, not what he says.”

I mulled over that advice as we pulled into the parking lot but couldn’t respond due to Jordan’s interruption.

“Oh shit,” he said under his breath. “He’s home.”

My heart raced as I looked down at the two large grocery sacks at my feet. “Should I leave the bags in the car?”

Jordan pulled into a parking space and threw me a weary look. “Still feeling bold, today?”

“Why?”

“I think your best escape is to tell him the truth.”

“I can’t do that,” I said. “I can’t even believe I told you. I don’t talk to boys. Ever. And now I’m buying tampons with one.”

I ignored the heat in my face because I realized Jordan might be right. I’d had a streak of boldness this entire day, starting with my afternoon workout. Maybe this was a PMS symptom?

Jordan’s cell phone rang as we opened the front door to find Coach Bentley standing in the living room, holding his own phone to his ear. He snapped it shut immediately. “What—?”

I glanced at Jordan for a split second and he nodded expectantly toward his dad. “I’m not really sick,” I said. “I didn’t want to tell Stacey the truth.”