Tutoring the Player (Campus Wallflowers #1)(78)

The girls join me in the yard.

“What did he say?” Jane asks.

“He gave me this.” I hold up the note and then unfold it slowly. Jordan’s small handwriting greets me.



Daisy,

I’m so sorry. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I’m hoping you’ll give me one anyway. I wasn’t lying when I said I love you.

x,

Jordan



“That’s it?” Jane asks when I show them.

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t he come with them?” Dahlia looks to me for an answer.

Violet crosses her arms over her chest and stares at the ground.

My friends might not understand, but I do.

He’s giving me room to decide what I want.





No gifts come Friday evening, but I don’t have a chance to worry about it. Well, not much time anyway.

The party is tonight. There’s a chance of rain again all weekend, so we focused our efforts inside. We moved all the furniture upstairs, all by ourselves, thank you very much, and the living room is our dance floor and mingle area.

In the kitchen, we set up a serve-yourself station with cases of champagne that Jane bought for the event.

I’m looking forward to it, but admittedly, I can’t completely shake the memory of dancing with Jordan in my yellow dress. But I’m determined to have a good time tonight with my friends.

The four of us gather in the kitchen for a drink before everyone arrives.

“I have a little surprise,” Dahlia says. She grabs a bag from the counter and pulls what looks like four small notebooks from it.

She hands one to each of us. The booklet is small with only a few pages and has a small golf pencil attached.

“What is it for?” Jane asks.

I flip open my booklet, and the giggle erupts as I read the first page. Dances, it says in a pretty, bold font, and then there are six numbered lines. “It’s a dance card.”

“Just like Elizabeth Bennett,” Dahlia says proudly. “I don’t really expect you to use them. I just thought they were fun.”

“I’m totally using mine,” Jane says. “It’ll be a good place to get numbers.”

Violet lifts her plastic champagne flute with a laugh (Jane also bought boxes of those—the heavy plastic kind that almost looks real). “To Elizabeth Bennett.”



By midnight, our house is filled with classmates and friends, and friends of friends. Some dressed up, others are casual, but everyone is having a good time.

Jane has her dance card tucked into the cleavage of her dress, and as promised she’s taking down numbers in it.

Dahlia is wearing one of her own creations. A baggy sweatshirt in a light gray with a black pleated skirt. She hangs off to the side of the dance floor, but she’s smiling.

Violet steals the room in a black lacy dress that hits above her knee and bright purple heels. She and Jane are currently in the kitchen drinking champagne and talking to two guys that are friends with Eric.

And me, well, I’m watching it all with a bittersweet happiness stirring inside of me. I sit on a stair halfway up to give me a nice bird’s-eye view, sipping champagne and sketching in my dance card. I glance up from time to time to make sure I’m getting the details just right. I don’t want to forget this moment or the looks on my friend's faces.

Violet appears at the side of the staircase with a tipsy smile. “Daisy, there you are! Come dance with us.”

She gives me a playful, pouty face, and then Jane joins in.

I tuck my dance card away and let them pull me to the center of the dance floor. Dahlia comes, too, and we form a circle, linking arms and belting out the lyrics to three or four songs in a row.

“I need a drink.” I hold a hand to my dry throat. In the kitchen, I refill my flute and sip, letting the sweet bubbles dance on my tongue.

“This was perfect,” Violet says, leaning her back against the counter and sighing. “Thank you for doing this.”

“We all did it. Together.”

“Yes, I know, but after the way things went down the last time, you had little reason to want to go through it all again.”

“It wasn’t the best night of my life,” I admit. “But it made me realize how much we all needed it. You said it earlier this week, come as you are. And people did.”

“Yeah,” she says the word softly.

I bump my hip against hers. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Tonight has been a blast. I’m going to remember this forever, but I hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m fine,” I insist. “Or I will be.”

“You didn’t tell me that he said he loved you.”

“He said a lot of things. Who knows how much of it was true?”

She nods. “Come with me.”

She goes to the back door. The rain held off, but the temperature has dropped, and the wind has picked up.

I haven’t gone out there since the night I screamed until I lost my voice, but I go with her now. She steps outside, and I follow, clutching my bare arms to my stomach as the breeze nips at my skin.

The tree house is lit up like it has been every night since Jordan strung the lights, but tonight lanterns pave a path from where we stand to the ladder. My heart squeezes in my chest. I can’t see inside of the tree house, but I know he’s there the same way I know my name.