drive. Gran, do you want to come with us?”
Gran looks up again, smiles politely, and shakes her head. “No, you two go on ahead. I’m feeling a little tired and will probably go to bed here soon.”
“Okay, are you feeling all right?” I kiss Gran on the top of her head and inhale her citrus shampoo. She pats my arm and smiles again.
“Fine, honey, just a little tired.”
“We won’t be out too late,” I say, and then jog up the stairs. I throw on a clean pair of skinny jeans and some ankle boots and decide my off the shoulder sweatshirt is fine. It’s not like I’m going on a date with Jordan Capshaw, it’s only a drive. I grab my coat and a scarf and take a deep breath as I count the number of heartbeats it takes me to get to the bottom of the stairs.
“Ready?” I ask, feeling like I’ve intruded on some strange exchange between Jordan and Gran. She’s giving him a knowing look and he’s avoiding her gaze altogether. He turns to me and I almost get lost in his brown sugar-colored eyes.
“Be good, you two,” Gran calls on our way out. I giggle inwardly as I search through my purse for my keys.
I stop the car at the edge of the driveway and look to my left and right. In high school I would drive the dusty old farm roads when I needed to get away or be alone to think about things. One time I found this ancient barn so old a large oak tree somehow had sprouted in the center and now was the only thing holding up the timbers. I sat outside that barn for hours one night, watching the stars and crying over what never should have been.
“Which way?” I ask Jordan. He shrugs and points left. We follow his random directions until we end up at the end of a windy gravel road nestled between two sloping hills. We both exit the car and walk toward a group of tall trees that stand like fingers waiting for gloves. The shadows surrounding the growth look like the bones of spiny skeletons and a chill runs down my back.
“Cold?” Jordan asks, and steps closer.
“A little, I guess. Though it’s kind of creepy out here, don’t you think?”
He shrugs and drapes his arm over my shoulder, pulling me to his side. In the movies they make this look cozy and romantic, but walking side by side is awkward with him being so much taller than me. Our footsteps aren’t in sync so it’s all bumpy and stiff, and neither of us seems to know how to make our rhythm match.
“Look at that,” Jordan says with a smile. He’s pointing to a large tree with an old wooden swing hanging from one of its branches. “You think it will hold us?”
“Us? I doubt I could even get my butt on there without it collapsing.”
“Since you brought it up, you do have a really nice butt.” His eyes light up as he leans back to check me out. I playfully smack him on his shoulder and then take off at a jog to the swing.
“Dibs!” I giggle as I run through the tall grass.
We reach the swing at the same time, laughing and gasping for breath as we each take hold of one side. Jordan pulls on the rope with his good hand, tugging me toward him. We’re both breathing hard, staring each other down with only the wooden seat of the swing separating us. The moon casts shadows over Jordan’s face, making the fading angles exaggerated, almost like his bones are sticking out from his pale skin. A shiver works its way through my body and I’m the first one to back down. I let go of the rope and step back. Jordan inhales deeply and then shakes the swing.
“I think it will hold,” he says as he puts some weight on the seat.
“Careful,” I say, “you don’t want to break your other arm if the swing breaks.”
The tree branch is solid and doesn’t move as Jordan slowly lowers himself to the seat. He pushes off the ground with his feet and slowly swings back and forth.
“It’s a little stiff. You should try it,” he says with a wink. Hopefully he’s referring to the swing. He pats the space next to him and I shake my head.
“You’re
Gran looks up again, smiles politely, and shakes her head. “No, you two go on ahead. I’m feeling a little tired and will probably go to bed here soon.”
“Okay, are you feeling all right?” I kiss Gran on the top of her head and inhale her citrus shampoo. She pats my arm and smiles again.
“Fine, honey, just a little tired.”
“We won’t be out too late,” I say, and then jog up the stairs. I throw on a clean pair of skinny jeans and some ankle boots and decide my off the shoulder sweatshirt is fine. It’s not like I’m going on a date with Jordan Capshaw, it’s only a drive. I grab my coat and a scarf and take a deep breath as I count the number of heartbeats it takes me to get to the bottom of the stairs.
“Ready?” I ask, feeling like I’ve intruded on some strange exchange between Jordan and Gran. She’s giving him a knowing look and he’s avoiding her gaze altogether. He turns to me and I almost get lost in his brown sugar-colored eyes.
“Be good, you two,” Gran calls on our way out. I giggle inwardly as I search through my purse for my keys.
I stop the car at the edge of the driveway and look to my left and right. In high school I would drive the dusty old farm roads when I needed to get away or be alone to think about things. One time I found this ancient barn so old a large oak tree somehow had sprouted in the center and now was the only thing holding up the timbers. I sat outside that barn for hours one night, watching the stars and crying over what never should have been.
“Which way?” I ask Jordan. He shrugs and points left. We follow his random directions until we end up at the end of a windy gravel road nestled between two sloping hills. We both exit the car and walk toward a group of tall trees that stand like fingers waiting for gloves. The shadows surrounding the growth look like the bones of spiny skeletons and a chill runs down my back.
“Cold?” Jordan asks, and steps closer.
“A little, I guess. Though it’s kind of creepy out here, don’t you think?”
He shrugs and drapes his arm over my shoulder, pulling me to his side. In the movies they make this look cozy and romantic, but walking side by side is awkward with him being so much taller than me. Our footsteps aren’t in sync so it’s all bumpy and stiff, and neither of us seems to know how to make our rhythm match.
“Look at that,” Jordan says with a smile. He’s pointing to a large tree with an old wooden swing hanging from one of its branches. “You think it will hold us?”
“Us? I doubt I could even get my butt on there without it collapsing.”
“Since you brought it up, you do have a really nice butt.” His eyes light up as he leans back to check me out. I playfully smack him on his shoulder and then take off at a jog to the swing.
“Dibs!” I giggle as I run through the tall grass.
We reach the swing at the same time, laughing and gasping for breath as we each take hold of one side. Jordan pulls on the rope with his good hand, tugging me toward him. We’re both breathing hard, staring each other down with only the wooden seat of the swing separating us. The moon casts shadows over Jordan’s face, making the fading angles exaggerated, almost like his bones are sticking out from his pale skin. A shiver works its way through my body and I’m the first one to back down. I let go of the rope and step back. Jordan inhales deeply and then shakes the swing.
“I think it will hold,” he says as he puts some weight on the seat.
“Careful,” I say, “you don’t want to break your other arm if the swing breaks.”
The tree branch is solid and doesn’t move as Jordan slowly lowers himself to the seat. He pushes off the ground with his feet and slowly swings back and forth.
“It’s a little stiff. You should try it,” he says with a wink. Hopefully he’s referring to the swing. He pats the space next to him and I shake my head.
“You’re
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