Girl Against the Universe (19 page)

I do a five-second check as we step outside, looking for anything strange or out of place. All I see are the quiet silhouettes of the upper-class neighborhood—sloping roofs, spiky palm trees, manicured lawns cut short into submission.

Our walk takes us exactly where I expect it to—Jordy's house.

The driveway is bare. The lights are all off. I've been alone with Jordy plenty of times, even at his house before. But something feels different about tonight, like everything is getting ready to change, whether I'm ready for it or not.

I follow Jordy inside, waiting while he punches in the security code.

He turns away from the blinking panel and heads for the stairs. “Come on,” he says. “My room is on the second floor.”

My heart starts pounding as I follow him; sweat beads on the back of my neck. I don't think it's from climbing the stairs.

The door to Jordy's bedroom opens with a soft creak. He reaches an arm around the doorframe and flicks on the light. There's a desk and chair, a set of shelves that runs the full length of one wall, a big screen TV, and a video game console, its wires twisting across the floor. And then there's his bed, queen-sized, unmade.

I force myself to look away from the tangled sheets. The shelves are full of trophies—big ones, small ones, ribbons, plaques. I pretend to concentrate on them and not on the fact that Jordy has invited me into his private space. He didn't
even feel the need to tuck away his dirty laundry or scattered papers and magazines.

“What are we doing?” I whisper.

He loops his hands around my waist and pulls me into a loose embrace. “Hiding from the rest of the world.”

“Why?”

“Good question. I'm so tired of my parents and the secrets and everyone's expectations. All this stress is like dragging around an anvil. No wonder I'm feeling exhausted.”

I run one hand up and down his arm. “I don't have expectations for you.”

He presses his lips to my forehead. “I know. Sometimes I feel like you're the only one.”

I rest my cheek against his chest and inhale his scent—a complex aroma of soap, cologne, and alcohol. He's upset—I can feel it, but I don't know how to fix things. “So you manage to find time for video games, huh?” I say, gesturing at the console.

“Very little,” Jordy says. “Sometimes I play before I go to sleep. It's weird—it helps me wind down. Do you play?”

“Not really,” I admit.

“Do you want to?” His voice catches in his throat.

“Sure.”

Jordy flicks off the room light and turns on a small desk lamp, bathing everything in comforting shadows. He does a belly flop onto his bed and pats a spot on the mattress. “Get comfy.”

I settle uneasily on the edge of his bed and take the oval-shaped controller he puts in my hand. He flicks a button on the remote, and the start-up screen for a game called Killdead Enterprises appears. “Basically the idea is to kill all the zombies. Don't kill the hostages. The left and right arrows turn you. The forward and back make you go forward and back, and the trigger button shoots,” he says. “There's more, but that'll get you started.”

Jordy presses a button on his controller, and the screen changes to what looks like a military base. The zombies come slowly at first, and then quicker. I find myself getting into the game, enjoying the challenge of spotting and targeting each threat as it appears. When we get to the end of the level, there's a zombie cyborg creature that Jordy explains is the boss. “We have to shoot him like a hundred times.”

“Fun.” Biting my bottom lip, I target the boss and start firing, mashing buttons as fast as I can. He dodges left and right, occasionally retreating behind what looks like a small water tower. When the boss disappears from the screen, I fire a blast of machine gun bullets at one leg of the tower.

“What are you doing?” Jordy asks.

“Wondering if we can crush him with this tower thing.”

“That's not a bad idea.” He shoots at another leg of the tower, and it teeters dangerously. “Wait till he comes back on-screen.”

When the zombie boss appears again and starts throwing axes at us, I fire rapidly on him while Jordy takes out the
second leg of the water tower. It's enough to send it crashing to the ground, right on top of the boss, who promptly dies. The end-of-level scene appears, and Jordy and I get a huge point bonus.

He pauses the game and turns to me. “I never even thought of that. You are smart.” He holds his hand up for a high five.

“Not that smart.” I slap his palm.

“Yes, you are.” Jordy catches my fingers and squeezes them gently.

I exhale slowly, my eyes locked onto his. I pull my hand free from his grip and shake it out. “I think I might have sprained something,” I joke.

He reaches for my hand again. “Lucky for you I'm currently enrolled in a class called Sports Medicine.”

“Does it include information on video game injuries?”

“Most repetitive motion injuries are similar.” He massages my palm with both of his thumbs. Then he uses his thumb and forefinger to massage the area between each of my fingers.

It feels so good that my whole body relaxes. I drop my head forward and let my eyes close. “I give you an
A
,” I say. “You're practically making my mouth water.”

“Really?” He stretches the word out. “I like the sound of that.” With his other hand, he reaches out and lifts my chin. He drags his thumb across my bottom lip. “You're amazing, you know it?”

“Because I killed a zombie?” I ask weakly.

He laughs silently, his eyes still locked onto mine. “Because you're smart, and funny, and talented, and kind.”

“And cursed,” I remind him, my voice hoarse.

He traces my jawbone with his knuckles. “I don't care about your curse.” Without warning, he leans in close. His mouth brushes mine gently. One hand slides under the bottom of my shirt. His fingertips caress the bare skin of my back.

I lean into him, my lips urgent against his. The next thing I know we're both lying on his bed, our arms and legs tangled together. His soft mattress threatens to swallow me whole. I kick off my shoes and curl onto my side so we're facing each other.

Jordy reaches across me to stroke my hair. “I just keep seeing the look on your face when Shawn gave you his number.”

“And what look was that?”

“Surprised. Sort of flattered.”

I move closer to him. “That's exactly how I felt. But that's it—nothing more. I don't need to hang out with him or anything.”

“It just made me realize how stupid I'm being about my parents, thinking they'll be easier to persuade after I show them my mid-semester grades. They want me to go to college and be all about tennis and studying.” He brings my hand to his mouth and brushes his lips against each of my
knuckles. “But I want to date you and I want to go pro next year, and no matter when I tell them, it's going to be a big, nasty confrontation. I need to just man up and face it.”

“How are you so sure this is what you want?” I'm not sure if I'm talking about his feelings for me or going pro.

“I just am. I know how I feel.” He rests his forehead against mine. “Do you know how you feel?”

I know how I feel, but what I don't know is whether my feelings are strong enough to overcome my bad luck, whether caring about Jordy is a good thing or a bad thing. I can't explain that to him, though. Not here, with our noses brushing and bodies just inches apart. I should get up, move away, but I don't. It's like when you stand too close to the edge of a cliff and part of you really wants to jump. You know it's crazy, but once the idea takes hold of you, it's hard to break away from it.

“Here's what I feel like.” I roll onto my back and pull Jordy on top of me. Brushing his hair back from his eyes, I run one fingertip around his lips. His scent, the weight of his body, the look in his eyes—all of it excites me. Suddenly I don't just want to jump off that cliff anymore. I want to dive headfirst into the swirling waves, even though I'm not sure if I can swim. “Kiss me,” I whisper.

Jordy's mouth crashes down onto mine. I taste the mix of sweetness and alcohol from whatever he drank at Kimber's house, but I don't mind. He bites gently on my lower lip. My hands slide under the fabric of his shirt, my fingertips gently
exploring his stomach and ribcage.

He tugs his shirt over his head. He drops it on the floor and kisses me again. My fingers crawl upward, stroking his pecs, his shoulders. I feel the soft prickle of chest hair. Beneath my palm, Jordy's heart beats slow and steady. I don't know how he can be so calm when everything feels so electric, so turbocharged. My body is asking for things it's never wanted before.

Jordy's hands trace their way up my hips, tugging my shirt up just far enough that the bare skin of his stomach is brushing against mine. I kiss his jawbone, run my mouth along his neck, listen to the soft noises escaping from his lips.

His eyes snap open. He rolls to the side of me. “Screw dating. What does ‘dating' even mean? I want you to be my girlfriend.” He laces his fingers through mine. “Say you'll be my girlfriend right now, tonight, and I'll wait up for my parents and tell them everything.”

“Jordy,” I say weakly. “If this is just because you saw me talking to Shawn . . .”

“It's not,” he says. “You make me want to be brave—to face the stuff that scares me.”

“Some of which scares you for good reason,” I say. “Let's stick to the plan. You focus on school and tennis. I'll finish my therapy challenges. Then . . . we'll figure it out. You know how I feel about jinxing things.”

“I do,” he says. “But sometimes I feel like maybe you're just using your fears as an excuse not to get close. That you'll
blow me off no matter what happens.”

“That's not . . .” As I struggle to formulate a response, his mouth traces its way up the ridge of muscle in my neck. He reaches down to stroke the skin of my bare leg. “Jordy.” I can hear the pleading sound in my voice, but I'm not sure if I want him to quit or keep going. “I'm pretty sure you know how I feel,” I whisper. Every sensation seems amplified by a million.

“I can see how you feel about
this
,” he murmurs, his lips finding the sensitive places on my neck again. “I'm asking how you feel about
me
. Be my girlfriend, Maguire.”

I pull away and sit up in the bed, threading and unthreading my fingers in front of my body. For most other girls, this would be easy. But I know that even if I survive all my therapy challenges and make it to Ireland and back, that won't mean I'm not cursed, it won't mean I won't someday reflect bad luck on Jordy or his family, it won't mean I won't regret whatever decision I make here.

But I also know this isn't a choice I can put off forever.

I want this, whatever it is. I want to see where things go. I want to let myself
feel
. But just as I'm about to tell him yes, that I'll be his girlfriend, a car door slams outside.

“Shit.” Jordy flinches so sharply we both almost fall off the bed. He leaps up and strides across the room to the window.

I sit up slowly, finger-combing my disheveled hair. My
whole body is warm. Everything feels a little cloudy and unreal. “What is it?”

He swears under his breath. “My parents.”

I snap out of my haze. “We should get downstairs.”

“Right. Except it's too late. They'll be inside before we can get back down there.”

“What will they do if they catch you with a girl in your room?”

“Lecture me for hours. Ground me forever. Possibly ask you to take a pregnancy test.” He grabs his shirt from the floor and pulls it back on.

“What—”

“Sorry. Stupid thing to say. I'm panicking.” He tosses his hair back from his face. “You know what? Screw it. I said I wanted to tell them. This is a sign. I'm going to tell them right now. We're together. I'm going pro. That's how it's going to be. I want them to be part of my career, but if they can't live with that then I guess I'll have to start paying for my own coaching and tournaments, which I'll be able to do once I can score some bigger sponsors.”

“No, wait,” I hiss. “These aren't the kind of decisions you make in two seconds.”

“I've been thinking about this stuff for months,” he says firmly.

“Okay. But I can't meet your mom like this.” I rake my hands through my hair again. “What is she going to think?”

“She's going to think we were up here fooling around. Big deal. It's not like we're naked.”

“Jordy! I don't want your mom to think of me like . . . whatever. This is not a sign. It's a cosmic beatdown waiting to happen. Hide me,” I beg. “Sneak me out later. Tomorrow we can figure everything out when we're both thinking clearly.”

“I am thinking clearly,” Jordy says. “And I'm sick of hiding,”

“I'm not!” I give him my best pleading look.

Suddenly there's a knock at the door. “Stanford?” A woman's musical voice calls.

I lie down and pull the quilted comforter over my head. As hiding places go, it's not much, but it's the best I've got.

“Jesus, Maguire,” Jordy mutters. “Fine. But that is not going to work if she turns on the overhead light.”

I roll onto my stomach and flatten myself out as much as possible, willing my body to sink into the mattress, willing the comforter to fall around my frame in indecipherable, non-girl-shaped folds.

“Stanford? Are you in there?”

“Come on in,” Jordy says, his voice seemingly relaxed.

I hold my breath as the door to his room creaks open.

“I thought I heard voices. Who were you talking to?” Jordy's mom asks.

“What? Oh. Chris. I was on the phone.”

“Mmhmm.” She makes a clicking sound with her tongue. “This room is a mess. When did you get so slovenly?”

“Sorry. I'll clean it tomorrow,” Jordy says.

I hear her footsteps cross the floor.

Toward me.
Oh my God, oh my God, ohmygod.

“Why is your shirt on inside out?” his mom asks.

“Uh . . . it's a style thing.”

“I see.” She sniffs. “Why do you smell like alcohol? Also a
style
thing?” Without waiting for a response, she yanks back the comforter with one hand, exposing me. Sighing deeply, she looks away from the bed. “Stanford. Not again.”

Jordy looks back and forth from me to his mom, a defiant expression on his face. “This is Maguire. Maguire, my mom, Eileen.”

“Hi,” I manage to choke out. I can't look at her. I can't look at anyone. I glance around the room, half-hoping for a containable electrical fire or a small-scale earthquake. Where's a good minor catastrophe when you need one?

“How do you do?” his mom asks, but she's not looking at me either. Her eyes are glued to Jordy. “How many times are you going to make this mistake?”

My face burns. I'm fully clothed, but somehow I've never felt more naked. I ball the fabric of Jordy's sheet in my hands. Mistake? How many times? What does that mean exactly?

“She's not a
mistake
, Mom,” Jordy says. “She's my girlfriend. Or I was asking her to be my girlfriend when you knocked.”

Mrs. Wheeler's eyes flick momentarily to mine. “You should probably go, dear.” She turns back to Jordy. “Where's your phone. Deactivate the front-door alarm for her.”

“No. She's not leaving,” he says. “We weren't doing anything wrong.”

“It's okay, Jordy.” I stare at my hands. “I'll go.”

“I think that would be for the best,” his mom says.

He shakes his head. “Don't leave.”

His mom turns her attention to me completely. Her eyes are a cool ice blue, almost gray. “I'm sure you're a lovely girl, but right now is an important time for Stanford and his career. The past few weeks he's been recovering from an injury, but he's also seemed . . . unfocused. Distracted. He's struggling in matches that should be easy for him.”

“Oh my God, Mom. She is
not
the reason I've been losing.” Jordy turns to me. “You're not. I swear.”

But his mom's words are like a blast of machine gun fire to my gut. It never even occurred to me that I might have caused Jordy to lose with something other than my bad luck. Is just
thinking
about me affecting his game? His career? His whole future? If so, then it doesn't matter if I'm cursed or not. Caring about me is bad for him. I can't bear that.

“Maybe your mom is right.” I slide out from under the covers and smooth the wrinkles from my skirt. I start pulling my shoes back on.

“What?” The blood drains from Jordy's face. “No. Don't let her run you off like this, Maguire.”

“No one is running anyone off,” his mom says. “But if she cares about you, she won't want to—”

“If
you
care about me, you'll let me make some decisions for myself,” Jordy says.

“I don't want to be the one who messes up your future,” I say hoarsely. I twist my hair back up into a bun.

“Then don't leave,” he says.

My eyes flick to his for a moment, but that's all I can take. There's so much pain in his expression. “It seems like you guys need to talk.”

“We
all
need to talk,” Jordy says.

“Okay,” I say. “But you guys should talk first.” I give him one last look and head for the hallway.

The tears come as I hit the stairs. Behind me I hear
Jordy's mom yelling. “We had an agreement, Stanford. Don't you remember what happened the last time you let yourself get distracted?”

“You can't keep me from having friends. That's not living.”

“It's not
friends
I'm worried about.”

“I'm sick of you telling me what to do and who to be!”

I plug my ears with my fingertips. I don't want to hear it—any of it. I almost crash into Penn in the foyer. She must be just getting home from Kimber's.

She grabs my arm as I go for the front door. “What is it?” she whispers. “What happened?”

“Your mom happened,” I say. “I've got to go. I'm Jade's ride.”

Penn follows me outside. “Hold up. I'll walk you back to Kimber's.”

“You don't have to do that. I'm fine.”

“You don't look fine. You looked wrecked. My mom has that effect on people. Did she . . . interrupt you guys or something?” When I don't respond, Penn keeps talking. “He's crazy about you. He'll talk some sense into her, okay? Just don't feel bad, because this conversation has needed to happen for a while, and it's more about the two of them than it is about you.”

“I don't know.” I pause in front of Kimber's house. “Your mom made it sound like I'm the fifth girl she's found in his bedroom this month.”

Penn gasps. “That is not true, Maguire. My brother isn't a saint, but he's not some sleazy man-whore, either. You're the only girl he's even talked about in over a year.”

I want to believe her, but that's just my ego. What Jordy is or isn't doesn't really matter if their mom is right and thinking about me has caused him to lose matches. “You should get home so you don't get in trouble too. And you might want some gum or something. She smelled alcohol on him right away.”

“Thanks.” Penn reaches over and gives me a quick hug. “Jordy will fix this.”

“Yeah,” I say. But I'm not sure this can be fixed.

I knock on the front door of Kimber's house. No one answers, so I let myself inside. The living room is empty. Kimber and Darius are in the kitchen cleaning up.

Kimber folds a pizza box in half and tucks it into a trash can. “Sorry, New Girl. I didn't hear you knock,” she says flatly.

I can't help but wonder what I did to get myself downgraded back to “new girl” status. “I'm just looking for Jade.”

“She's outside.”

“Thanks.” I head for the sliding glass door.

“Actually, I need a word with you.” Kimber grabs my arm, her fingers clamping down on my skin tight enough to cut off the circulation. She pulls me down the hallway and into a bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Who knew a six-foot by six-foot cube filled with fluffy pink rugs and
towels could feel so dangerous?

“I'm not in a very good mood right now,” I say. “What is it?”

She leans against the door. “You need to stop messing with Jordy.”

God. I guess that's the theme of the evening.

“You're not the boss of me,” I say. “And I'm not
messing
with him.”

“Really? Because I watched you kiss him a few hours ago, and then I find out you gave my brother's friend your number, and then you apparently ran off with Jordy again a few minutes later. I'm not going to tell you how to live your life, but don't jerk around one of my best friends, okay?”

“I didn't give Shawn my number. He gave me his. I have no intention of calling him.”

Kimber crosses her arms. “Then why did you take his number?”

“I guess because I'm not any good at being a bitch.”
Like you
, I think.

Her lips purse, and I'm pretty sure she read my mind on that last part. I don't even care. I blame myself for enough things as it is. I'm not going to let other people blame me for stuff I didn't even do.

“It doesn't matter anyway,” I tell her. “Jordy's mom just kicked me out of their house. Pretty sure she's not going to let him see me ever again.” My voice cracks. The tears surge up from nowhere. I step back, grab a tissue from a pastel pink
tissue-box holder, and blot my eyes.

“Oh, wow.” Kimber cocks her head to the side and studies me. “You really like him.”

“Yeah.” I sniff. I'm a little surprised that fact hasn't been obvious to her.

Her dark eyes bore straight through me. “Not just because he's cute or famous?”

“No! Why would you think that?”

She starts ticking things off on her fingers. “You show up out of nowhere and work really hard to get his attention. You're clearly good at tennis but still ask for extra help. You seem distracted at practice. You seem nervous enough at your matches that he feels the need to spend most of his time supporting you.”

“Yeah, and?” I ask. “Did it ever occur to you that might actually be who I am? That maybe I have reasons for being distracted or nervous? Did you really think I faked not knowing how to serve so he'd spend time with me? That I hit him with a tennis ball to get him to notice me in the first place?” I am practically yelling by the time I finish.

“Okay, okay. Calm yourself,” Kimber says. “But believe me, I've seen shadier things done.”

“Not by me. Jordy has been so amazing. You have no idea.” I blink back another round of tears.

“Oh, I have an idea. We've been friends since we were kids.” A smile touches her lips. “I know how great he is. I also know he has a big heart. I just didn't want to see him
wasting time on someone who didn't appreciate everything he has to offer.”

“I appreciate him.” I ball the tissue in my fist.

“I can see that now.” She pats me awkwardly on the shoulder. “Sorry for giving you a hard time. And don't worry about his mom. Her bark is way worse than her bite. If you stand your ground, she'll accept you eventually.”

Too bad I did the exact opposite of stand my ground.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are red, my skin is blotchy, and hair is pulling loose from my bun, frizzing out in all directions like a storm cloud. Kimber is probably wondering what Jordy even sees in me.

I tuck a rogue spiral of hair behind my ear. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“Why wouldn't I be nice to you?”

“Well, you and Jordy. I thought you two used to hook up or something . . .”

Kimber bursts out laughing. “Who told you that? Because I know it wasn't him.”

“It's just something I heard,” I say, not wanting to betray Jade. “I mean, anyone can see how much you like him.”

“Ah, rumors. Well, you got that part right at least. I do like him, but only as a friend.”

“But he told me you guys kissed.”

“Yeah, in middle school. It's a long story, but trust me, we were never together. I know that as a sophomore he made the decision with his parents to put his social life on hold to
focus on tennis. At that point, it seemed like what he wanted to do. But things change. Jordy is a big boy, and anyone can see how much he likes you. If he's happy, I'm happy.”

I think of the look on Jordy's face as I slinked out of his bedroom. Too bad he's not happy, and neither am I.

There's a soft knock on the bathroom door. Kimber opens it, and Jade peeks her head in. “Oh look. It's my ride home,” she teases.

“Drive safe, you two,” Kimber says. She heads back into the kitchen as Jade and I turn toward the front door.

“Sorry,” I tell Jade. “I didn't mean to strand you.”

“No bigs.” Jade leans in. “Are those tears? What were you doing locked in the bathroom, crying with Kimber? You didn't even drink anything, did you?”

“Nope.” I step back out into the night. Jade and I start walking down the street to where Jordy parked my car. I can't help but peek up at the Wheeler house. It's all dark except for a light on the second floor. His room. “I went to Jordy's for a little bit. His mom caught us up in his room.”

Jade waits for me to say more.

I unlock the car and slide into the driver's seat. “We were just kissing and stuff, but God, the way his mom looked at me. She called me ‘a mistake.'”

“Ouch. What did Jordy say?”

“Well, he said I wasn't a mistake. But then they started yelling at each other, and she accused me of being the reason he's been off his game.”

“Double ouch.”

“Yeah. She told me to leave. He told me
not
to leave. I left. Everything is messed up.”

“Relationships are messy,” Jade says. “But when two people like each other, they work it out.” She clicks her seat belt and then reaches over to pat my hand.

I shake my head. “I think it's better if I leave him alone. I don't want to be the reason he's losing.”