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JORDYN

T he white-haired boy with the same name as me wasn’t kidding when he said he was persistent.

For the next two weeks, he kept asking to have lunch with me. I would say no, and he would stand to his full height, at least a foot taller than me, give me a salute, and grin. “Tomorrow again, then.”

Today, he’s not in class. I hate that I notice. I can’t even name who else I’m sharing this class with, maybe except for three people. And yet, I notice him.

Whether I want to admit it or not, it feels weird not seeing him. The shock of white hair that falls to the top of his ears, his ever-present aviator sunglasses on the back of his head. The mocking, playful green eyes that remind me of pine trees. The generous smiles that oddly make my stomach flip.

He was spot-on when he called me a misanthrope. I have nothing against people, and I don’t necessarily hate them, but I don’t like their presence either. I prefer being by myself.

Someone once asked me if I ever got lonely, and no, I never did. I like my own company. By myself, I’m rarely disappointed, and that way, I never get hurt, either.

It has worked for me so far … until now.

As I stuff my iPad and notebook into my bag, I realize with a pang that Jordan isn’t as annoying as others. In fact, I usually find myself close to smiling whenever he does his usual spiel of, “Will you go to lunch with me?”

He also says it in a robotic voice that makes me want to laugh, like he’s really just going through the motions.

Too many times, I wanted to say yes just to catch him off guard. I guess I didn’t count on the fact that he could and would get tired of asking.

After all, he’s the popular guy in school. Tall, lean, friendly, charming, and, I admit, devastatingly handsome. A deadly combination. One look, and I know he’s the kind of guy who will break hearts, mine included, if I’m not careful. He’s exactly the type I want to avoid as much as I can.

As I step out the door, the hallway buzzes with the usual post-class chaos, voices overlapping, and lockers clanging shut. I have my earphones halfway in, my backpack slung lazily over my shoulder, when I hear it.

“Jordyn, wait up!”

The voice cuts through the noise, and I pause mid-step, spinning on my heel and adjusting the strap digging into my shoulder. Jordan was right again. My back and shoulder hurt every day with all the things I carry around. This bag is more about sentimentality than convenience. The first bag I bought with my own money from a summer job, and it’s far from ergonomic.

My eyes scan the crowd until I spot him. To be fair, I could just see his hair, and I’d know it was him. Not to mention, he towers above everyone else.

As he walks toward me, he keeps on stopping to wave at someone or smile and say hello. Like I said, a popular guy. I could never.

He sprints and suddenly twists his body, planting one foot hard against the floor and the other dragging behind him. His sneakers screech against the tiled floor, a sharp, rubbery sound as he leans back, his arms out for balance. He rocks forward slightly before coming to a cocky stop, grinning like he’s just pulled off the smoothest stunt of his life.

His hair is slightly mussed, and my heart flutters as I take him in his usual attire—a black Henley shirt, dark jeans, and black skater shoes. And, of course, the backward shades. The arms of his aviator sunglasses are hooked over his ears.

Those passing us by throw us furtive looks. I don’t even miss a girl elbowing her friend and pointing her chin at me.

God, I’ve always hated attention.

“Here.” Jordan hands me a paper bag. “I got you coffee.”

I almost reach to take it on instinct, but I pull my hand back at the last minute. “I don’t?—”

“It’s hot caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso.”

The fluttery feeling in my belly intensifies. “How did you?—”

Jordan straightens and smiles. “I pay attention, love. I pay attention.”

I ignore the endearment, convincing myself he tells everyone this, but whatever words I have for him die on my tongue as I blink slowly and squint. Something’s different with him today. “Your hair changed.”

His smile gets wider as he runs his fingers through his hair. “You noticed?”

I notice a lot of things, but I don’t tell him that. “I mean, it’s not as white-white anymore.”

He snaps a finger and nods enthusiastically, as though I just answered something no one else did. “Yes! I asked my hair stylist to add some gray undertones to give it a more frosted look.”

“I don’t understand any of that.”

“But you think it’s cool.”

“I said it’s different.”

“Same thing.” He steps beside me, and we start walking together. I don’t even know where we’re going, but I’m distracted by the little bounce in his steps, his arms swinging loosely on his sides. “I got held up at the salon, so I decided to grab you coffee.”

I scan his face, and I gape in disbelief. “You skipped class for a salon appointment?”

He juts out his chin. “Duh.” He clasps his hands behind him and leans his body toward me. “Did you miss me?”

“I didn’t.”

“But it bothered you that I wasn't sitting behind you in class?”

It hits way too close to home that I jab a finger at his shirt. “Listen, you don’t?—”

My thoughts crumble into silence as he wraps a hand around the finger and presses it to his hard chest. I can feel his heartbeat, likely as fast as mine.

The whole world ceases to exist, and all I can see is his soft eyes, sharp jawline, high cheekbones, aquiline nose, and lips slightly upturned at the edges. Dammit. It would have helped if he didn’t look this good! Resisting him would have been easier.

Meanwhile, there’s me. The very definition of unremarkable and ordinary.

“Let go.” My voice sounds foreign to my ears. It’s getting increasingly difficult to speak with a lump in my throat.

The side of his mouth lifts higher. “You touched me first.”

Despite myself, my gaze drops to his mouth. It’s not even a second, but he realizes it at once. His face darkens, the hint of amusement disappearing.

I have never been kissed before. I wonder what it would feel like. Jordan seems like an expert. He’d know. I bet he has kissed more than a dozen girls already. If only I could be one of the lucky ones.

His grip on my finger loosens, and he grazes his thumb along the back of my hand. It’s nothing more than that, but the way my body reacts, it’s as if we’re in foreplay and about to engage in wild, mind-blowing sex.

Oh, for Christ’s sake. I should not have thought that because now, warmth settles in my core, threading through my legs. My breath hitches, and when Jordan sees, his mouth parts.

Something crackles in the air between us. I feel it along my skin, my nerve endings, and the junction between my thighs. This thing builds and builds until…

Jordan is yanked from me, and the spell breaks.

“Yo! You didn’t answer my calls. Where were you, man?” It’s his friend from class. Tristan? Theo? Tom?

Jordan’s eyes don't leave me, neither does he answer Theo or Tristan or whoever he is. Disappointment crosses his features, and I’m pretty sure I mirror the emotion. I’m not used to seeing him without that goofy grin, and the effect is … devastating. To my lady parts, at least.

He opens his mouth to say something, but I can’t take the rioting emotions within me, threatening to wash over and overwhelm me. Without another word, I whirl and run like the devil himself is on my heels.

The door to the girls’ bathroom swings open, and I slip inside. My heart continues to pound faster than it has any right to, and I barely glance around before ducking into the nearest open stall, the lock clicking into place.

I take out the coffee from the paper bag, the smell grounding me even as my heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest.

I cradle the cup in both hands, pressing my thumbs against the warm cardboard. I let out a shaky breath, my lips curving into a smile, warmth blooming within me.

I don’t know what’s happening to me, and I have no idea if this is supposed to scare the hell out of me.

But…

This is the first time I’ve ever felt this light, and I want to hold on to the feeling as long as I can.