Catching Jordan

Catching Jordan - Section 5

My alarm clock wakes me up at 9:00 a.m. I move to turn it off and realize that Henry’s arm is draped across my stomach. How did he get turned around in my bed?

“Henry, getoffame,” I mutter, pushing him away so I can hit the snooze button. Then I roll back over onto my pillow, and he moves back in closer and drapes an arm across me again. He nuzzles up against my neck. I’m starting to get more and more worried about him.

I run my hand through his curls for a few minutes until I absolutely have to get up. Climbing out of bed, I pull the covers up over him. It’s obvious he’s too down and out to go to the game today, so I don’t even bother trying to rouse him.

After a quick shower, I pull on some black underwear I found in my dresser, courtesy of Mom. Walking out of the bathroom, I spend about thirty seconds in my closet. Though I hate wearing anything involving a skirt, I have to dress up if I want to sit in the owner’s box, so I put on a simple black dress and slip on some silver f  lats.

Before I leave, I sit down on my bed and pat Henry’s head. He barely opens his eyes, gives me a slight smile and buries his face in the pillow again.

“I’ll call you after the game,” I say. “Stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks, Woods. Have fun with Ty,” he says into the pillow. “Show him that underwear you’re wearing—it’ll make him wild.”

I smack Henry on the shoulder. Considering we’ve been hanging out since we were seven, I’m sure he’s seen me in my underwear a bunch of times, but he’s never mentioned them before. “Why were you watching me change?” I exclaim.

“Uh, ’cause I’m a guy?” He f  lips the pillow and slaps it, f  luffing it. Then he rolls over and closes his eyes again.

# 

nachos grande

the count? 16 days until alabama

When I get to JJ’s trailer, I honk my horn about ten times. I told Ty to meet me at JJ’s because I don’t want him to see where I live yet. Judging by the fact that Ty doesn’t have a car and doesn’t want Henry to see where he lives, I don’t want him to see my house and think I’m some stuck-up snob.

JJ comes running down the rotting wooden steps, his extra weight f  lopping all over the place underneath a white, button-down shirt and tie. “We’re coming. Stop your honking.”

Walking behind JJ, Ty looks cute in his own button-down shirt, tie, and khaki pants. He cleans up well. He hops into the backseat and JJ sits up front next to me.

“You know, some people have manners and ring the doorbell,” JJ says.

Ignoring JJ, I say, “Hey, Ty.”

“Hey,” he replies. Through the rearview mirror, I watch as he looks at me and takes a deep breath. He pushes his sandy hair off his forehead.

“Carter?” JJ asks.

“It’s his grandmother’s 70th birthday,” I reply.

“Henry?” JJ asks.

“Asleep in my bed.”

“What?” Ty exclaims.

“It’s no big deal, dude,” JJ says. “He sleeps there more than he does at his own place.”

“Oh,” Ty says as he fiddles with the buttons that open my truck’s sunroof, opening it up and closing it a few times.

Somehow I’m able to drive my truck to Nashville without crashing it. Every time I glance at Ty in the mirror, I get distracted and start thinking about how great he looks in a tie.