The Truth About Letting Go (5 page)

“It’s called reality TV for a reason. And you’ve just had a trauma. Want me to come and play guard or something? Make sure Wes doesn’t get out of line?”

I think about having Mandy there during the interview. It would ruin everything.

“It’s Jordan, and no. I think I can remember how to handle myself on camera.”

“If you say so. I’m already concerned you even said yes to him.”

We’re in my driveway and I start to get out. “You’re too hard on the geeks. You know they’re the ones who end up ruling the world.”

“I will not let you date that guy,” Mandy glares at me. “When you get your head straight again, you’ll never forgive me if
that
is in your prom picture. And the last thing I need is Jordan hanging around.”

“I have no interest in dating anyone, so we’re all safe.”

“Famous last words.”

* * *

Jordan is already at the creek, sitting on the bank texting, when I hop off my bike at the road and walk up to the water.

“Sending out an alert?” I ask smiling. Silly Mandy. I hate that she made me suspicious of him.

“Just making some notes for later. I was trying to think about everything your dad did.”

“He was just writing for the magazine and doing those weekend features for the paper as long as I can remember.” I try to think of anything interesting to add as I say the words. Charlotte should be here. I glance around the street and don’t see any sign of her. I can’t believe she’s suddenly gone underground on me.

“That’s okay,” Jordan smiles. “I didn’t want to focus on his professional career so much as what you two did at home. His hobbies and how he liked to pass the time. Things that aren’t such common knowledge.”

I picture Dad’s face grinning proudly over some new culinary creation he’d invented and my eyes get hot. I was his resident guinea pig always sampling his latest attempt at getting kids to eat more fiber or try some shunned vegetable.

“I don’t know.” My voice is thick. “I was hoping we could start with something easy like that he texted a lot, and I had to be quiet when I got home from school if he was on the phone because it might be New York.”

“Really?” Jordan’s eyebrows raise. “He talked to people in New York?”

“Where do you think the magazine was based?”

“Oh, right.”

I watch as Jordan pushes his huge glasses higher on his head. He uses them like a headband to keep his shaggy dark hair out of his eyes. Mandy has no reason to be worried. If she knows anything about me, she knows I prefer fair guys with blue eyes. Even if Jordan is so easy to talk to.

“So you two did what? After he finished texting, I mean.” He adjusts a setting on his phone as he speaks. “Exercised? Cooked?”

I hear Dad’s laugh as he pulls me off the couch to go outside. He always insisted we get at least thirty minutes of exercise every day. I haven’t done thirty minutes of anything since the doctors confined him to bed. Since he slowly wasted away.

Pain clenches my chest and I have to blink fast. “I can’t do this,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, Jordan.”

I look down and he stops fiddling with his phone. I feel him watch me for a moment before he slides across the grass to where I’m sitting. I don’t even flinch when he reaches out and takes my hands in both of his.

“It’s okay,” he says softly.

We’re quiet then, and I struggle to make the lump in my throat dissolve.

“I have a confession to make.” Jordan says after a few moments.

I look up at him, and he smiles at me.

“I don’t really care what we talk about.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He looks down and his ears go pink. “I think anybody would watch anything you were in.”

He looks up, and I notice he’s lightly stroking the back of my hand with his thumb. It’s comforting. “We can talk about whatever. Like what are your hobbies?”

I think a minute. It’s been so long since I’ve done anything just for fun. It’s been so long since I’ve wanted to.

“I don’t remember,” I say softly.

“What? How do you forget something like that?” Jordan teases gently, and I start to relax. “Reading? Video games?”

I shake my head.

“Cheerleading! You could give me the inside scoop on the squad.”

“I asked Coach Taylor if I could be let off for the rest of the year this morning.”

His brow creases, and for a moment, his thumb stills on the back of my hand. “You did?”

My eyes go to his, and my shoulders tense when I see his concern. “Don’t…” I swallow against the tightness in my throat again. “There’s only two basketball games left. It’s not like it’s September.”

Memories of how this year was supposed to be try to flood my mind, but I fight them back. Coach T was all business this morning when I talked to her, but that flash of concern in her eyes hurt, too. It always hurts.

“It’s not a big deal,” I say. “Please don’t make it a big deal.”

The last part is a whisper, and Jordan studies me for a moment. Then he nods.

“Okay!” His voice is a little louder, a little brighter. I blink the mist away, looking up at him, and I have the strangest urge to lean into his arms for a hug. I shake that crazy thought out of my head.

“What if we do like one of those talk shows? Discuss current events, your favorite food…”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really felt like eating in a while.” I try to think of the last time food hasn’t tasted like Styrofoam.

“That’s no good.” Jordan pulls my arm forward and gently pokes my ribs. “You’re already tiny. Want me to buy you a burger?”

I smile and relax, feeling my breathing returning to normal. “No. Burgers are loaded with fat and sodium.”

“That’s it! We can do a healthy eating bit. Like I can take you to different restaurants, and you can tell me how I’m ordering wrong.”

“Is that your sneaky way of asking me on a date?” I narrow my eyes at him.

He smiles and looks down still holding my hand. I think about pulling it away, but I like the feeling of my hand in his. I study his face, clear skin, bright blue eyes.

“I did want to ask you to the luau,” he says timidly.

I pull my hands back then. “Is that what this is all about?”
Was Mandy right
?

“What? No! No way. I mean, I never would’ve thought…”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going.”

“Go with me.” Jordan suddenly reaches over and takes my hand again. I look up, surprised by his boldness. “I know. It doesn’t make any sense, but just… just try it.”

I stare at him for a second. His eyes aren’t all the way blue. They have little flecks of brown around the middle, and his lips are slightly full…

“Okay.” The word just comes out of my mouth, and I can’t believe I agreed to go with him.

“OK!” He smiles.

Chapter 5

All night I toss in my bed thinking about how I agreed to go to the luau with Jordan. What does it mean? What’s happening to me? I haven’t told Mandy, of course. She’ll completely flip out—not that I’m so worried about her. For a moment, I wonder what Charlotte will say. She thinks Jordan’s great. She’ll probably be encouraging as always. Maybe I’ll try telling her the next time we’re together. It’ll be a good way to gauge what the public response is going to be, not that I care about that either. I wanted to shake things up, to break out of my gloomy rut. Looks like I’m doing it.

The next day at our lockers, I pull my door open and pause, still thinking. “Hey, Jordan?”

He jumps and quickly stands in front of me. His hand goes to adjust the glasses on his forehead, but I hop up and snatch them away first. “You don’t really need these.” I toss them in the back of my locker and slam the door.

“Wait!” He tries to reach around me, but I block him. “Ashley…”

For a moment we go back and forth as he tries to get to the door, but I keep blocking him until finally he laughs and drops his arms. “What are you doing?”

“And we’re going to meet up after school to get you a decent haircut.”

His brow creases, and he shoves his long bangs behind his ears. “It has been about a month, I guess. Shadow Scissors takes walk-ins.”

“Jordan.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “I said a
decent
haircut.”

He smoothes it with his hands. “What’s the matter with my haircut?”

“It’s 1990s grunge band.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I agreed to go to the luau with you, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then you have to be agreeable, too.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Trust me. You’ll like it.”

“So long as it’s not too short.” He slouches against the locker next to mine and reaches for my door, but I catch his hand and hold it. “Can’t I—”

“No. And I’ll meet you after school.”

He sighs, and for a moment, our fingers lace. Then he looks at me and grins. “I guess I should’ve expected this.”

I slip my hand away and spin the dial on my lock before heading to class. “Right after school.”

* * *

Trina Hudson has done my hair since we moved to Shadow Falls, and she is excellent at her job. Jordan and I follow her through the black and white salon. The stations are all black, and the floors are black and white checked tiles. The owner added color with shabby-chic chairs that have neon, antiqued-velvet cushions, and original artwork is on the walls. But my favorite is a white, ceramic deer head mounted over Trina’s station.

She sits Jordan down, swooshes a black cape around him, and immediately begins cutting the length off his neck.

“Wait! Not too short!” he protests, pulling away.

“You can’t wear a mullet,” Trina says, pulling him back.

“It’s not a mullet,” Jordan frowns, still holding the back of his head. “What are you going to do?”

“Hands down,” she breathes, annoyed. “I’m going to make you look amazing.”

Jordan looks at me, still uncertain, but I only raise my eyebrows. Trina’s the boss here. He slides his hand slowly off his neck, and in ten minutes, she spins him around to face me. My eyes widen. She’s actually managed to make him look really cute. Possibly even hot. I mean, not that I’m into him or anything.

“Great work, T!” I smile and hand her my plastic. I have my own credit card for monthly expenses, which I never have to worry about. “You’re a genius.”

“He has great hair,” she says ruffling Jordan’s dark locks. “The texture has just enough body, and it’s so glossy. I left it a bit longer than I normally would. For you.” She says to Jordan.

“Um… thanks?” he glances at me.

I reach up and brush his bangs to the side. “I think it looks really good. Don’t you?”

He shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“It’s better than that,” I smile. “And now we’ll get you something different to wear.”

Trina whisks the cape away, and I take his hand. In minutes we’re entering the clothing shop two doors down. I quickly pass through the stacks piling shirts and jeans across his arms.

“Try these on, and we’ll see what works,” I say.

He disappears into the fitting room, and I walk around looking at shirts in different shades of blue. Jordan’s eyes are so pretty, and now that his hair is cut and those dumb glasses are safely imprisoned in my locker, he’s starting to look less like a geek and more like a nerdy musician or artist.

“Well?” He steps out, and the transformation is complete.

“Amazing!” I smile and he ducks his head a bit, ears pink.

“It helps that you’re so tall. You look like a model.”

He coughs a laugh. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

I grab his arm and drag him beside me to look in the three-way mirror. For a second he studies his reflection. Then he shakes his head to the side, letting his bangs fall over his eyes.

“What? These jeans?” he says to an imaginary photographer. “Levis. Now my shirt, this is a Target original.”

I punch his arm. “It’s way better than Target!”

He laughs. “Okay, enough red carpet. Let’s go.”

Jordan is all protests at the register while I pay for three shirts, three tees, and two pairs of jeans.

“You cannot buy all my clothes,” he says, trying to reach over my head for my card.

I shove a fourth shirt and some dark cords at him. “Fine. You buy these.”

As I wait for Jordan to pay for his outfit, I pick up a bottle of cologne and spray some on a card. I wave it and sniff.
Too spicy for a former geek
.

“What’s that?” Jordan picks up another bottle and sprays it on his arm.

“Wait! That could smell like… butt.”

He grins and holds his wrist to his nose. “I think it smells like grass.”

I pull his arm toward me. It does smell like grass. Fresh-cut after a drizzle.

“It reminds me of the creek.”

“That does it, then.” He smiles and turns to the clerk. “Add it to the bag.”

We throw everything in Jordan’s mom’s old Corolla, and I dig through her compact disk collection. “I can’t believe your mom’s car only plays CDs.”

“It’s a major pain. No cassette player, no place for an auxiliary cord. It’s non-updatable.”

“And she’s so old school,” I say, pulling out a Billy Joel disc. “Do you listen to this?”

“You’re kidding, right? My mom is also a music Nazi. It’s her tunes or my bike.”

I slide the disk in, and it starts blasting electric keyboards.

“It’s like jazz or something,” I say.

“Zanzibar.”

“What’s Zanzibar?”

His eyes twinkle, “I don’t know.” Then he reaches over and turns down the volume and glances at me with a smile that makes my stomach tighten. “I have a confession to make.”

“What?”

“You were right. This was fun, and well, I like it.”

“Ha! I knew you would!” I put my feet up. “You pretend not to care, but you really want to look hot.”

“No feet on the dash, Miss ‘I can’t take a compliment.’ So am I driving you home now?”

I lower my legs and look out the window, thinking of my empty, quiet house. “Let’s go to your place. I want to see your room.”

For a whole second, the only sound in the car is that of driving bass and a trumpet solo. “Okay,” he says, turning the wheel.