I shuffle around in the tire and try to get a better grip on the rope so that I can open my book when two teenagers walk by.
“Aw, how cute. I want a boyfriend like that,” one of the girls says before they disappear into the library.
I think about Ian and me from their vantage point, and I can’t help but side with them. This was incredibly sweet of Ian, so why am I not swooning?
I finally get into a position where I can hold both the rope and my book open at the same time, but I read the first paragraph at least three times before my mind focuses on the gentle hand that’s making me swing like a pendulum. Jordan’s touch may have given me permanent goosebumps, but who’s to say holding Ian’s hand or even kissing him wouldn’t do the same? Up until now, we’ve barely even tapped the physical barrier. Maybe my reluctance in the physical department is holding me back from feeling more with Ian.
I make a split-second decision and drag my foot against the dirt below me so that I slowly spin sideways. When Ian’s hand flies up to push my back again, his hand swipes the air, causing him to look up from his book. As my gaze connects with his, I bite my lip and widen my eyes in the most flirtatious way I can, but I feel about as seductive as a Cabbage Patch Doll.
His eyebrows draw together. “Are you okay?”
“Oh.” I laugh, feeling a third-degree blush mark my cheeks. “Yeah.”
Should I be horrified that my come-hither face merits the words “Are you okay?” Yes, I should. But not right now. Right now, Ian and I are in the middle of something, or at least we will be if I can hold back my inner Cabbage Patch.
Out of the blue, Ian laughs. “You know, you used to make that face when…” Ian cuts off, looking suddenly nervous.
His nerves spark mine. “When what?”
He hesitates. “When you wanted me to kiss you.”
He must read my silence right, because before I know it, Ian steps toward me, one hand on the tire swing as the other tucks a strand of long brown hair behind my ear.
He is so close I can smell the woodsy scent of his body. Slowly, his lips quirk up in a half smile. “Do friends kiss?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly.
I give him a slight nod, then his lips are on mine. The kiss isn’t a bad one, but my mind starts to wander. I’m thinking about the sound of the rope tightening in my hands and about how my abs are burning so badly you could probably roast a marshmallow on them. Not exactly the kind of heat I was hoping for from this kiss.
When Ian pulls back, he smiles briefly, but something about his alert eyes and awkward stance makes me wonder if he feels the same way I do. If we were going off the fireworks scale, I would say that kiss had the explosive power of a single Pop-Its.
We’re both floundering for something to say, but when Ian steps back and lets go of the tire swing, I yelp in pain. Too late, I realize a chunk of my hair is caught on one of the buttons on Ian’s shirt. Ian and I both lean in to unlatch my hair when our heads butt. Ian yanks his head back so fast that my hair is pulled in his direction, dragging me and my body with it. My back hits the dirt ground with a thud as the tire swing sways above me.
Ian looks down at me in horror, but I barely notice his face because my eyes are glued to the strands of dark-brown hair that now dangle from his button.
Nothing says romance like giving a man a lock of your hair. I just didn’t quite imagine it going that way.
“Ow.” I put my hand over my head belatedly, keenly aware of where my hairs have been plucked. Suddenly, I feel sick, and I really wonder if I might puke.
Chapter 22
JORDAN
I take the stairs up Paige’s porch two at a time, holding her laptop. She texted me this morning when I was on my way to work, telling me she was working from home today and wondering if she left her laptop in my car. She had. After a brief phone call with Rob, he assured me that he had things covered at work. I quickly made a U-turn back to Pine Lakes and headed straight for Paige’s.
I haven’t seen Paige since we held hands last Friday. I expected there to be awkwardness between us, but fortunately, our text conversations since then have been our usual lighthearted banter. Things seem relatively normal again. If I can just get myself to stop thinking about the way she looked after we pulledapart on the couch or the feeling of her soft fingers between mine and how they set my body ablaze, then we’ll be well on our way back to normalcy. After last Friday, I recommitted myself to my promise. I was not going to worm my way between Paige and her dreams.
I knock on her door, heart pounding with the excitement of seeing Paige again. I remind myself this will be a short visit.Short, Jordan. Very short.
The door flies open, and Missy shuffles onto the porch with a harried expression. “Oh good.” She looks at me with relief before biting into a bagel, holding it in place with her teeth while rummaging through her purse. She pulls out her keys then takes the bagel out of her mouth. “I have to go to a coaching session, but Ji’s at work and can’t come home till noon, and I didn’t want to leave Paige alone feeling the way she does.”
I immediately feel a surge of anger. If Ian hurt Paige again, I will kill him.
“No.” Missy puts up her hand. “Nothing to do with Ian. She’s physically feeling sick.” Missy looks at her watch, worry etched across her brow. “Will you watch after her till Ji can get here?”
I’m halfway through the door before Missy even finishes her sentence.
“Thanks, Jordan. You’re the best.” Missy waves, and her heels click quickly down the path that leads to her car in the driveway.
“Paige?” I call, turning into the kitchen connected to the entrance hallway. I place her laptop on the kitchen counter. “Paige?”
