The Girl Who Wore Jordans

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

      “Are you ready to go?” Eric inquired, finally joining me after what felt like an eternity of monotonously waiting. Some presumed that the female gender was the one that took longest to get ready and preform the simple act of changing, but from all my experiences, that wasn’t the case. Guys took just as long, if not longer, as girls to put on clothes.

      “I’m freezing because I decided to be an idiot and wear and freaking, short-sleeved shirt, I’m hungry, and I am so ready to get the fuck out of here you have no idea,” I told him, horrified that my body was physically shivering. I wasn’t cold to the point that if I stood outside for another ten minutes I would get frostbite, but I was chilly. Though cooled temperatures rarely bothered me, something about the combination of waiting and the wintry weather was getting to me.

      “Well, I’m sorry for taking so long; the coach had to give us a celebratory speech and warn us not to die of alcohol poisoning because he still needs a team for the rest of the season,” he apologized, beginning to pull a jacket over his freshly cleaned body.

      “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those douches who proudly wears their letterman jacket out in public,” I sighed in disapproval of his attire choice.

      It was one of the high school clichés that I strongly detested. It was unrealistic, really. Football players didn’t walk around school in packs wearing matching apparel, and cheerleaders never actually wore their cheer uniforms around the building unless before or after a practice. The thought of Eric proving even part of the stereotype true, simply irked me.

      “Don’t worry,” he said, peeling off the coat he had put on moments before, “I’m not one of those guys.”

      “And what type of guy are you?” I asked skeptically.

      “The type that lets girls he likes wear his team jacket when they’re suffering a severe case of being cold,” he placed the coat over my shoulders.

      “I’m sorry, but I refuse to wear this,” I said, trying to hand him back the heavy piece of clothing, though resulted in being unsuccessful.

      “Why?” he demanded, not mad, but rather a little annoyed.

      “Principles and my own moral standings,” I explained, still waiting for him to reclaim the red and white fabric.

      “Too bad.”

      “Excuse me?” I gaped, shocked that the two worded phrase had come out of his mouth. “I thought you were supposed to be the nice guy— always chivalrous and polite.”

      “I generally am, though, on this matter, I’m going to be persistent; you won’t win this one, Liz,” he promised.

      “Why is it so important to you?” I whined.

      “Because it would make me happy to see that special girl I have in my life wearing my jacket; even if just for a few minutes,” he explained, trying to guilt me into it by staring deeply into my eyes.

      “Fine,” I reluctantly caved in, unhappy to come across as undetermined- something I most certainly was not. I put on the garment, acknowledging that it did indeed add another layer of insulation to keep me from getting hypothermia. “Thanks.”

      “Of course,” he smiled, snaking his arm around my waist. “So, now are you ready to go?”

      I opened my mouth to speak, though another individual beat me to it. “Yo! Loser with the eye candy! Do you want to give me a ride to the party?” a boy shouted out, running towards us.