“What? Why not?” I say.
“Because it would require us to go out of state for a week or more.”
Oh, this is about Mrs. Miller. He would never leave his mom for more than a day. “What does Rob think?” Rob is Jordan’s video editor and second-in-command.
Jordan leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees, and looks out over the city. “Rob thinks we should take the job and expand the business to the West Coast.”
My mind flashes back to our senior year, when Jordan and I talked nonstop about life after high school. He was like a bungee jumper, ready to fling himself into the unknown and enjoy every breath-stealing adrenaline-inducing moment. That was always Jordan, ready to fly when the rest of us were content to walk. There wasn’t an event he didn’t want to attend or a place he didn’t want to visit—but all of that changed after his mom’s illness. The light that propels him forward is only a fraction now of what it once was.
But for a moment, I see that old adventurous light flicker in Jordan’s eyes when he mentions expanding his business, those dreams of flying emerging from the dust. But it fades faster than it appeared.
“We have plenty to keep us busy here. We don’t need to expand.” He flicks something invisible from his shirt sleeve.
My heart plummets for him because I know it’s there, that desire to leave, to innovate, to be more. It crushes me to see him denying himself so that he can stay in this town, trapping himself within the invisible lines he’s drawn in the name of his mom’s health.
I nearly ask him why he does it to himself, but he changes the topic.
“I think we need one more music spot tonight.” He points to a couple in matching tan shorts and blue polo shirts. They look like they’re in their sixties, sporting gray hair and holding hands. They stop to cuddle on a bench several yards from us.
Jordan hands me his phone, and I find a song that’s sweet and full of all the love I see in this couple. When I press Play, Chicago’s “Colour My World” trills into the warm summer night. Jordan eyes me softly, curiously, as if surprised by my song choice.
Only a few moments later, the man stands and offers his hand to his sweetheart. He pulls her up and gathers her in, holding her like he’s got the world in his arms. Jordan and I watch the couple spin round and round as they slowly dance to the tune.
I let the soft, rhythmic beat pull me in as the lyrics speak of a love that has the power to transform someone’s world. Chicago’s words are like a branding iron searing my skin and igniting an intense desire to experience the kind of love this couple has. A love that’s sweet, lasting, and mutual.
A tear seeps out onto my eyelashes, then Jordan does something rare. He puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer.
If ever there was a moment to tell him how I feel, this would be it. But I’ve already told him how I felt once before, and I vowed I would never do it again.
Chapter 3
PAIGE
·FIVE YEARS AGO·
I just graduated.I just graduated!I’m a Tilt-a-Whirl of emotions today, spinning high one moment as I step across the stage to grab my diploma and low the next as I take pictures sandwiched between my parents in my cap and gown, realizing that in one week, I’ll be at UC Berkeley without them.
I look out the Millers’ kitchen window to the backyard and spot Jordan and our parents setting up tables of snacks and drinks for our combined graduation party. Jordan makes my mom laugh, and a new feeling propels me on another emotional high. I might be leaving my parents, but Jordan will be atStanford, just a little over one hour from my college campus. And if he’s there, then I’ll always have a piece of home nearby.
I tug on my lavender wrap dress—which is actually doing something for my nonexistent curves—and straighten it before I grab a bowl of fruit salad from the fridge and head outside, joining Jordan under the pergola next to the pool. Lights are strung everywhere, and even though the sky is still bright blue, I can feel the magic each shining bulb brings. Which is perfect because I’m pretty sure tonight will be the most magical night of my life. At least, I hope it will be.
I hold the bowl of fruit closer, hoping it will somehow stop the flood of nerves pooling in my chest. Tonight, I am going to tell Jordan how I feel about him.
Taking a deep breath, I release my death grip on the fruit salad, placing it next to the large cake with “Congrats Grads!” scrawled across the top in red frosting.
“What’s that?” Jordan rounds the snack table until he stands next to me. “Oh, gross.”
I laugh. Jordan hates fruit salad. He doesn’t like mushy food or food that touches other food, so it’s practically Jordan repellant. I pick up a sliced banana that’s dyed red from a neighboring raspberry and thrust it toward his mouth.
“Ugh.” He darts his head back as if I’m holding a cockroach, but I push the banana closer. “Paige, that’s revolting.”
Suddenly, Jordan has both my wrists in his hands, and he forces the banana slice into my mouth, getting mushy bits on my chin.
Rolling my eyes back in exaggerated bliss, I chew and swallow the banana. “Mmm. So good.”
Jordan makes a disgusted face. I tug at my wrists to break free, but before I know it, he’s clamped both my wrists in one of his hands while the other swipes at the bottom of the cake, getting a fingerful of frosting.
“Jordan, don’t!” I squeal and break away just in time for him to grasp me around my waist and smear frosting all over my cheek.
