More Than Friends (Friends, #2)(67)

She takes it all in stride, laughing and teasing, sometimes flirting, though not too much. She’s very professional. I can’t help but envy how easy she makes everything seem. Working with the boys, organizing the water, jumping to it when Coach Halsey screams her name. There’s never a hair out of place, her placid expression proving she’s unflappable. I wish I were that confident.

The coaches are running the boys through endless drills, though I don’t really pay attention. I’m too busy working the hydration station, trying to figure it out as I fill one empty water bottle after another. Kyla’s taking care of an injured player and most of the JV team is milling around the hydration station, including one Eli Bennett, Ryan’s younger brother.

“I know you,” he says, pointing his index finger right at me.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s rude to point?” One of the other guys slaps Eli’s hand down and a few of them chuckle.

Eli glares at the kid before resuming his examination of me. “You’ve been at my house.”

Oh man. I so do not want to go down this road. “Want some water?” I offer him a water bottle.

“Nah.” He shakes his head, his sweaty hair flying, then spits on the ground. Gross. “What’s your name?”

“She’s a senior, Bennett,” another one of his teammates yells at him. “Save it for a girl who’ll really go for you.”

“Maybe I like older women.” He directs a dazzling smile straight at me, and I can’t lie—the boy is gorgeous, just like his brother. He has the same golden brown hair and the strong jaw, though his eyes are more of a hazel color versus green like Ryan’s. He’s the JV team’s quarterback, and while he’s not extraordinarily tall, Eli is lean and muscled. He can throw the perfect spiral and he’s led the team in a big way this season.

And what? Now he’s showing interest in…me? This has to be a joke.

“You were with Tuttle,” Eli says as he saunters toward me. “At my house, for Ryan’s party. You were sitting on the bus together Friday night. You two a thing, or what?”

I want to say or what so bad, but I keep my mouth shut. I shrug instead. I don’t want to say we’re something when we’re not. And I don’t want to say we’re nothing when we could be.

Meaning, I’m a confused mess and I don’t know how to answer Eli’s question.

“If she’s with Tuttle, you need to leave her alone, bro. Remember what he said?” The other guy leans over and whispers in Eli’s ear, resulting in the both of them cracking up.

Remember what he said? What did Tuttle say? About me?

“Leave her the fuck alone, Bennett.” The growly voice is none other than Jordan Tuttle himself. I should’ve known he’d show up in my time of supposed need. I don’t bother looking at him because damn it, I’m still pissed. And I don’t want him always running to my defense.

“I’ve got this,” I say, smiling sweetly at Eli. He gives me a questioning look in return, and I take a few steps toward him, trying to get my flirt on. “I’m with no one,” I tell Eli. “And while freshmen usually do nothing for me, I might take you under consideration.”

All the guys start making noise, even Eli, who’s laughing and getting plenty of slaps on the back. The only one who’s quiet is Jordan. I can feel the anger rising off of him, like a living, breathing thing. But I still won’t look at him. I just flash Eli a giant smile before I resume my hydration station duties.

The JV boys run back onto the field, yet Jordan remains. Kyla is nowhere in sight. It’s just the two of us, and I know I’m going to have to face him sometime. Slowly I turn to look at him, and the hurt I see in his gaze takes me aback.

“You’re really interested in Eli?” He sounds incredulous.

I sigh. Guess I’m not any good at this making Jordan jealous thing. “No. I was just…playing around.”

“With that kid? He’s a total punk.” He stares out at the field. “Damn good player, though.”

“Kinda like you?”

He faces me once more. “I’m not a punk.”

I muffle a laugh. “Please.”

“I think I’ve grown out of that stage.”

“Explain to me then the radio silence these last few days.” I cross my arms, waiting for his answer.

Jordan blows out a harsh breath and squints into the sun. Of course he looks amazing when he should really look ridiculous. He’s wearing this dark blue cotton Nike headband that girls normally wear, keeping his hair out of his face. He’s got his navy blue practice jersey on, and white uniform pants that mold to every part of him. He’s a little dirty and a little sweaty and a whole lot sexy.

I could slap myself right now for thinking this way.

“I’ve had some shit go down. With my parents,” he finally says, still not looking at me. “College crap. Life crap. You don’t want to hear it.”

His words are like a slap in the face. “You don’t know what I want,” I snap. His surprised gaze meets mine. “I told you I would be there for you if you want to talk, or even if you don’t want to talk. Whatever. I will be there for you, Jordan. You just have to trust me.” I pause. “Maybe that’s the problem. You don’t trust me.”