Letters to Nowhere: Part 38

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He nudged me until my back touched the side of the house again. He was so close I could feel his heart pounding just as fast as mine. And my mind turned to hazy, warm fuzziness that covered all the bad thoughts like a thick blanket. One of his arms curved around my back, his other hand resting on my cheek. He leaned down, lowering his face to mine and my hands were reaching up, touching the sides of his neck.

            His mouth barely touched mine and then he stopped. "Shit...Karen . . ."

            "What?" I managed to whisper.

            He lifted his eyes to meet mine. "We can't do this. Something about it just feels so wrong."

            The world came back into focus and my face must have been bright red with humiliation. I dropped my hands and ducked under his arm. "Let's just pretend it didn't happen, okay? The first or the second time."

            Jordan jogged after me. "That's the thing, I don't really have to pretend anything with you and I like it that way. Crossing this line changes everything. It'll be weird with us."

            I turned to face him. He looked so sincere and vulnerable it made me want to kiss him again. "You're right. No kissing. Just friends."

            Relief washed over his face. "Great." And then he hugged me really quick, like I had done earlier today. "Now, let's go home before Coach Bentley figures out that neither of us are capable of eating pizza for three hours."

***

"You guys look very..." Jordan and I both held our breath, mentally filling in the blank from Coach Bentley—guilty, secretive, intoxicated..."Cold."

            "Oh, yeah. I took Karen sledding," Jordan said with the ease of a professional con man. "She's never been before. Talk about a deprived childhood. See why I quit gymnastics, Dad?"

            Damn, he's good. I rolled my eyes behind Jordan's back. "It's cold, wet, and there's really no challenge to it, other than surviving frostbite. I don't think I missed out on much."

            Coach Bentley shrugged at both of us and then turned his focus back to the TV. By the time I walked into my new bedroom, it smelled completely like...Jordan...like his aftershave stuff in the dark green bottle resting on the back of the toilet. I changed into my warmest pajamas and snuggled up under the covers, sighing with relief that I wouldn't have to spend another night in that closet. And pretty soon, my old furniture would have a brand new scent after its new owner took it over.

            Just before I drifted off to sleep, Jordan flipped on the hall light and stood in my doorway, leaning against the frame. His hair was wet from the shower and looked more brown than blond. He wore St. Louis University flannel pants and no shirt, just a wet towel hanging around his neck. 

            "A little more comfortable than the closet, huh?"

            "Uh-huh." I closed my eyes again so I didn't have to stare at his bare chest.

            "I'm sorry about earlier. I have a feeling I'm gonna hate myself tomorrow for that."

            "Don't, seriously," I mumbled. "It's not like we were tangled up on the couch with your hand up my skirt."

            The wet towel hit me in the side of the face and I laughed, still too tired to open my eyes. "I am so not picking that up."

            I heard Jordan's feet creak across my floor as he bent over to retrieve the bathroom towel, his light laughter telling me everything was okay with us. "Good night, Karen."

            "Night, Jordan."

            Even though I agreed with Jordan's reasoning for not kissing me again, that didn't keep me from falling asleep thinking about his mouth against mine, his hand resting on my face, the endearing nerves that caused him to spill everything he was feeling. Overall, it really was a great first kiss. I just wouldn't tell him that. No need to further inflate his ego. 

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