She grins. ‘I appreciate that. Truly. Anyways, your sister has horses?’
‘Sure, it was her dream for the longest time. She bought the property way back when, after college, started building it up, bringing the horses on. Now she has a husband and kids, and the place is huge. Doesn’t hurt that we get a litany of benefits from living out here with her. It’s nice to have an extra layer of parental units for when I have to be somewhere, and Tali doesn’t.’ The words just keep rolling out. It’s not the beer, because I haven’t had anywhere near enough yet. It’s that magnetism I feel around her.
‘That certainly doesn’t hurt. And for the record, it’s a beautiful property.’ Jordan takes a skewer from the table and pops her marshmallow on, passing me another that I accept and add my own marshmallow to. ‘Did you ever ride?’
‘More when she first got the place. I was in high school. It was the cool new thing. I’d come here between school and practice to get a ride in, but not so much any more.’ We make our way towards the bonfire, snagging the nearest open seats. Jordan sits down beside me, close enough that the glow of the fire illuminates the planes of her face, and I can smell a hint of vanilla perfume beneath the layers of firewood in the air.
‘It’s homey. A different vibe than Oklahoma ranches, but homey.’ She extends her skewer towards the fire, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. She peers my way with a smile. ‘How’s the beer?’
Shit. I nearly kick myself. I should’ve grabbed her a bottle before I started yapping her head off. ‘It’s good,’ I finally reply, even though I’m flipping out in my head.
Jordan holds a hand out my way. ‘Can I get a sip?’
I’m not usually a sharer, but I find myself offering up my beer before thinking twice. She accepts it, rings clicking against the thick glass, and takes a swig. Her eyes crease happily. ‘You get used to it.’
‘Yeah.’ My mouth is suddenly dry, my knees suddenly weak, when she passes me back the bottle, now with the faint praline-coloured stamp of lip gloss superimposed against the amber.
Thankfully, the game, literally projected onto the back of the house, heats up at that moment, and everyone’s attention shifts to Mass State as they make a daring play down the centre of the field.
‘Come on,’ I mutter.
‘Come on.’ The same words leave Jordan, who’s as abruptly entrenched as I am.
The shouts of the parents around us escalate in volume, until finally their midfielder in possession slaps it to the attacker, and that’s a shot on goal—
‘YES!’ Jordan practically jumps in her seat next to me. I whoop, raising my beer. ‘Alright, that’s more like it!’
‘They’re gonna win,’ she says excitedly as she reels in her now-toasted marshmallow to sandwich between chocolate and graham crackers. ‘They’d better win. You know …’ She turns to face me, s’more in one hand, the other pointing in my direction. ‘I have never seen people more fired up for college lacrosse than here. This is absolutely wild. Do you realize how wild this is?’
‘It’s wild,’ I agree with a laugh. Jordan shakes her head, smiling in disbelief as she takes a bite out of her s’more.
‘Let me ask you something, Rod.’ She hefts herself from the bench at the fire with a grunt and, about ten seconds later, returns with her own bottle of beer. I don’t miss the fact that she plops back down much closer to me than before. Her knee touches mine, whether consciously or unconsciously, I’m not sure, but the closeness feels good. It feels better than good.
‘Shoot.’
‘People keep talkin’ about how you started the camp. How come?’ Jordan pops the cap on her bottle expertly, but her eyes continue making direct contact with mine. ‘I mean, I get the bit about providing these kids with a place to play, to level up to the big-city slickers, but still. Beyond that, how come?’
‘Uh …’ I look up in thought, take a sip of my drink. I guess I’ve never really had anyone ask to explain it beyond the basic stuff, but it feels raw when I answer her. ‘I guess I just got to thinking about my lacrosse experience. I love my parents, but Ifelt like I was … kinda pushed to be one hundred, all the time. Football, then lacrosse. It can be a lot of pressure. It’s nice to give these kids the opportunity, obviously, but it’s nice to take the edge off it, too. They get to learn this sport healthily. They get to have fun. It’s not always about functioning at max.’
‘I like that.’ Jordan turns back to the fire, and then, a sudden turn back. She’s got beer in one hand, a s’more in the other, and she gives me a little nudge of the arm with the beer hand. ‘Stop. Did you just say you played football?’
‘Oh, in high school, yeah. That was pretty much what I played for the most part. High-school lax coach recruited me sophomore year.’
‘My God.’ She lets out a little sigh. ‘You are so small-town main character, has anyone ever told you that?’
‘That a compliment?’
‘It can be.’ The flames from the bonfire reflect in Jordan’s eyes as she dusts the crumbs from her s’more off on her jeans and rests her chin on her hand. ‘Do you want it to be?’
‘Well …’
She raises an eyebrow. ‘Be honest.’
Honest. I can do that. It’s been a minute since I’ve been honest in this sort of situation, sitting with a woman I can’t take my eyes off, trying to move the plot forward, but screw it. It’s summer. Anything can happen.
‘Honestly? I damn well want it to be. Long’s you’re the one giving it.’
‘Hmm.’ I swear Jordan’s biting back a smile, her top teeth pulling her bottom lip in just slightly, just for a moment. She’s got me spiralling.
