Jordan chuckles. “Okay, we’ve got less than an hour to make this work. I’ve got blankets, but wear something warm. And tennis shoes.” He announces all this with the brightness of an afternoon sky.
I tilt my head back, looking up into his golden-brown eyes.
“What?” he asks.
“You.” I smile.
“What? You don’t like romantic Jordan?” He waggles his eyebrows.
“Oh no, I definitely do. But romantic Jordan is so chipper in the morning. Like a robin or a squirrel.”
Jordan’s jaw drops. “Are you comparing my romanticness to a rodent?”
I smile up at him innocently. “A very cute rodent.”
Jordan pokes just below my ribs where I’m ticklish, and I squirm away.
He laughs. “Get out of here.”
Twenty minutes later, Jordan and I are in his car with the heater on full blast and our stomachs full of hot chocolate. We exit our small town and drive down a winding road at the base of a nearby mountain. Jordan has one hand on the steering wheel while the other plays with my fingers, drawing little circles and patterns along my skin with his fingertips.
I feel like Alice in Wonderland. Is this a dream or reality? It’s hard to believe that yesterday, at this time, there was so much unsaid between Jordan and me, and now everything is out in the open. I lace my fingers between Jordan’s, and he gives my hand a squeeze, letting me know that this is in fact real.
“Are we going hiking?” I ask, a little afraid of his answer. I already went hiking once this year, so my quota is met for the next decade. But then again, hiking with Jordan might be worth it.
“No.” He laughs. “I’m not in the habit of torturing my girlfriend.”
Butterflies are too dainty a creature to explain the outrageous swirl of excitement going on in my stomach. It feels more like a group of seagulls or a flock of broad-winged pelicans circling inside me.I’m Jordan’s girlfriend.Some part of my brain registered that fact last night, but hearing it from his lips renders me speechless.
Jordan brings my hand to his lips, placing a kiss on each of my fingers. “We’re almost there.”
A little while later, Jordan and I sit on a quilted blanket with our backs against an old tree trunk that’s within walking distance of the parking lot. Jordan pulls out a second blanket and puts it over our legs, then the view in front of us starts to unfold. The velvet-black sky transforms into a grayish-blue, revealing a crescent-shaped lake nestled against the mountain. Everything is peaceful and serene.
I lean into Jordan’s side as he puts an arm around my shoulder. Though the blanket draped across us does a good job keeping me warm as we watch the sun begin to rise, I snuggle in close.
“This is nice,” I say, tilting my chin to meet his soft gaze.
“Good,” he says, “because I’ve got plans for us, Devons.”
“Oh, really?” I quirk a brow.
“Yep. I have seven years to make up for.” He smiles mischievously. “In fact…” He places a finger beneath my chin before leaning down and touching his lips to mine. “That,” he whispers, “is for seventeen-year-old Jordan… and this…” He smiles against my lips. “Is for eighteen-year-old Jordan.” He kisses me again, and I respond with equal enthusiasm.
By the time we hit Jordan’s twenties, I’m three parts melted marshmallow and one part blue flame. When we break apart after year twenty-three, I’m suddenly very grateful Jordan turns twenty-four this month. I make a mental note to resume this little game then.
Only after I’m out of my Jordan-induced coma do I pick up on something I didn’t before. “When you said that was for your seventeen-year-old self… do you mean…”
Jordan presses his lips to my forehead. “It means I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time.”
I straighten and look at him. “As in you liked me when you were seventeen?”
“As in I’ve liked you since the beginning.” Jordan gives me a small smile and waits as my brain puzzles it all together.
“And you continued to feel that way until…”
“I never stopped.”
My eyebrows shoot up as I pick up on the enormity of what Jordan is saying. After our kiss last night, I wondered when Jordan’s feelings changed toward me. I thought it had to have been sometime after high school, or he wouldn’t have left mewithout a word after I told him I loved him on graduation night, nor would he have come out of that closet with April Barker on his arm.
