He takes the butter-infused syrup bottle off the shelf. “Yes, but this has them bottled together. It’s brilliant.”
“Well, Ji’s not going to think so.”
“Ji doesn’t like syrup?”
“Ji doesn’t like buttery artificial-tasting syrup.”
“Shh. Paige, you’re hurting its feelings.” He covers the bottle’s invisible ears before placing it in the cart.
“Well, that bottle of syrup isn’t going on our rafting trip with us.” I pluck it from the cart and swap it for the regular kind. “What it doesn’t know won’t kill it... but all that butter might.” I snort-laugh at my joke as I check “syrup” off the shopping list Missy and I created for our weekend rafting trip.
“If Ji gets her butterless syrup, then Colton and I get this.” He puts a box of Lucky Charms into the cart.
“You won’t even be there for breakfast,” I protest.
For a moment, I see the tiniest crack in Jordan’s cheerful façade. Even though the rest of our friend group is leaving on Friday and camping overnight before rafting on Saturday, Jordan will only be there for the rafting portion. He claims it’s because he has a lot of work, but I know it’s because he doesn’t feel comfortable leaving his mom for that long.
In some ways, the choice is self-explanatory. He wants to be nearby in case she ever needs help. But in other ways, the problem seems so much deeper than that. Yes, Mrs. Miller sometimes struggles with pain and keeping her balance, but she is independent and capable, living a busy life filled with thethings she loves despite that. So why has her son stopped doing the thingsheloves because of her health?
Jordan moves down the aisle. He probably sensed my wheels turning and decided an evasive maneuver was necessary to avoid unwanted questions. After a moment, he throws some powdered donuts in the cart, and I eye him. I swear, he’s got the taste buds of a twelve-year-old.
“What?” he asks. “I’m just looking out for Colton.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“It’s bro code,” he adds.
For some reason, the thought of Colton and Jordan makes me think of Ian. Of how things might have been different if I’d never met Jordan in those bushes all those years ago. Ian and I might have made up and kept dating after high school. Maybe even gotten married. Had a kid. Maybe Ian and Colton would still be friends, and it would be Ian here with me, snagging a box of donuts for Colton. I walk on autopilot through the store, lost in thought, pushing the shopping cart as Jordan tosses things in.
“You okay?” Jordan asks.
I jolt out of my funk and nod in his direction.
“You disappeared on me,Pages,” Jordan says.
A teasing glint lights his eyes, and I can tell by his smile that he thinks he’s being funny, but it rankles something inside me.
“There’s nothing wrong with having a nickname, Jordan.” My tone is heavier than I intend, and Jordan lifts his brows.
“I wasn’t saying there was anything wrong with the nickname.”
“You are clearly making fun of it.”
He shrugs. “It’s just… I don’t know. Pages? It's so… unoriginal.”
I narrow my eyes at him as a wave of frustration rises within me. There was a time in my life when hearing Ian call me that “unoriginal” nickname felt like drinking water after a day underthe hot sun. Jordan’s jesting triggers a defense system inside me I didn’t even know existed. “What’s unoriginal about Pages?”
He puts his hands in front of him as he starts to backpedal. “Look, it’s not a big deal…” But he must see the challenge in my stare because he finishes his thought. “Fine. He called you Pages because you like to read books.” Jordan reaches into our shopping cart and holds up a bottle of Pringles. “You really like barbecue Pringles, but I don’t call you Chip. You’re good at writing, but I don’t call you Pen. So, yeah.” He shrugs again. “Unoriginal.”
I resist rolling my eyes and roll the shopping cart forward instead. “Maybe I like unoriginal guys.”
Jordan keeps pace with me. “You can like all the unoriginal guys you want, Paige. But… Ian?”
I stop and turn to face him. “It’s been almost seven years. Can a guy not change in that amount of time?”
“Sure he can. But you spent a few minutes outside with him, and that was long enough to forget what he did to you and move on? What did he say to you, anyway?”
“Does it matter? He’s changed. Can you just believe me on that?”
