And looking at Paige, snuggled against me, I can’t help thinking,If only.
Chapter 23
PAIGE
The doorbell rings, and I push against the unsettling feelings in my chest. That’s probably Ian. I glance at my watch. Quarter to eight. We technically still have fifteen minutes before game night starts, but “on time” to Ian is usually ten minutes early, so I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s him. I place my empty water glass inside the kitchen sink and head for the door.
Tonight is our friend group’s annual back-to-school game night, a tradition we started years ago. And while the only person still in school is Colton, we’re all about tradition, so we do it anyway with whoever is around. And this time, Ian’s coming.
Briefly, I comb through my straightened hair with my fingers as I look in the hallway mirror and readjust my light-bluesquare-necked top. I just saw Ian last night, and for some reason, seeing him today feels too soon.
Quickly, I review the list of conversation topics I created for us during work. Topics that aren’t centered around things we used to do together when we were in high school. Because lately, that’s the only thing we seem to talk about.
I paste a smile on my face and open the door. “Jordan?” My lips part in a true grin as my heart flutters inside me. He stands on my doorstep in a white short-sleeved Henley, jeans, and a backward baseball cap.Hello, kryptonite.
“I brought snacks,” Jordan says, raising the bottle of Orange Fanta and barbeque Pringles in his hands, two of my favorites.
“You’re my hero.” I take them from him.
He follows me into the kitchen, where I place his offerings on the island next to the charcuterie board Ji made for tonight.
“Am I the only one here?” Jordan stops at the opposite end of the kitchen counter, putting a solid eight feet between us.
“For now. Ji had to run to the store for more prosciutto. Missy is on her way back from her cousin’s house. And Colton and Ian should be here soon.”
Jordan nods and picks up a water cup, turning it in his hands.
“So, what’s the latest with your Cali team?” Jordan asks, his favorite question as of late.
“They are not my team yet,” I remind him once again. “But it’s going really well. Kitty, the graphic designer on the team, is a deep thinker, so she always gets us on some weird tangents. Today’s was about the ingenuity of the spork and how she thinks it is the superior utensil. And Cody, the art director, sent me pictures of his four-month-old baby boy, and I swear I could nom-nom his little cheeks all day. He’s so adorable.”
Though Jordan smiles, it doesn't reach his eyes. This is the first time I’ve mentioned California around him that he hasn’t been allGreat, great, that’s so greatabout it.
Our eyes connect, seeming to minimize the distance between us. His mouth opens to say something, but then he closes it.
“What?” I ask, wondering what’s caused the sudden shift in his mood.
Jordan ducks his head and places the cup on the counter. “I’m just… I’m going to miss you.”
I’m stunned into silence. I mean, I’ve always assumed he would miss me if I went to California. We’re best friends. But this was the first time he’s actually said it out loud.
“I think… These past couple of weeks, I’ve realized it’s just a matter of time. And I have a lot that I…” Jordan stops abruptly, looking like he’s rethinking his words.
“What is it?”
For a moment, his fingers tap restlessly against the counter, then he turns his gaze to me. “I guess… I don’t know how many more chances I’ll get to say this. But sometimes, I find myself forgetting what life was like before you. When I met you, it was like everything up to that point was in black and white, then I found you talking to a faucet behind that bush.” He laughs a little. “It was like you put color into my world, Paige. And I know that wherever you go, you’re going to change lives. Just like you’ve changed mine.”
I’m a puddle on the floor. A gooey, swoony puddle. Jordan has said many sweet things to me over the years, but this takes the cake.
The seconds tick on as Jordan and I stare at one another across the counter. We don’t move. We don’t talk. We just soak each other in.
But our moment is swiftly interrupted with a very loud, very offkey rendition of “Soon May the Wellerman Come.” I hear the garage door roll shut from across the house.
“Is that Ji singing?” Jordan whispers.
“Yeah,” I whisper back, not knowing why we’re whispering.
Jordan’s face lights up with a mischievous look I know all too well. At the same time, we both start looking for a good place to hide, because we are too immature to pass up an opportunity for a good jump scare. And Ji, despite her no-nonsense persona, is a jump-scare proficient—we’ve all been her victims at one time or another.
