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Once I fill her in, Mom wraps me in a hug like she did when I was little. “Why don’t you try calling him. Maybe something happened to someone in his family. Didn’t you say his parents died? I’m sure he’s extra sensitive to unexpected emergencies. He probably hasn’t even seen the pictures.”
I appreciate what she’s doing, but she’s wrong. I can feel it in my bones.
“I’ve already called. I’ve left messages. He hasn’t called me back. He’s ignoring me. There’s no other explanation.”
“What does your heart say?”
Her question takes me off guard. “My heart?”
“You obviously care about this boy. What does your heart tell you to do?”
The answer comes to me almost instantly. “Go over there and talk to him. To stand outside his window all night long if I have to.”
Mom pats my hand. “There’s your answer.”
“You’re right.” I hug my mother, relieved to have a game plan, at least.
She gives me one last squeeze. “You’d better take a jacket. It’s raining.”
30
Rain comes down in thick sheets, soaking me to the skin the instant I step out of my car in front of Jordan’s house. My shitty Corolla looks ridiculously out of place in his driveway—more proof that I shouldn’t be here. Conflicting emotions leave me torn between ringing the doorbell and turning around and going back the way I came. The thought of facing Jenny and Manny sends me into a guilt spiral. I can only imagine what they must think of me.
But I can’t bear losing Jordan over a ridiculous misunderstanding.
A flash of lightning etches across the sky, illuminating the straight lines and sharp angles of the modern structure as if the universe is sending me a message—a sign—to act now or regret it forever. With a steadying breath, I steal across the yard toward the east wing of the house, like a thief in the night, avoiding jagged shrubs and miniature rock formations along the way.
Once I turn the corner, I follow the light coming from what I think is Jordan’s window and catch a glimpse of a familiar shadow inside. Going all in on my foolish endeavor, I creep closer until I clearly see him through the glass. He’s shirtless, and I can almost make out the angry skin under his new ink.
The man tattoos me over his heart, and what do I do? Promptly rip it out.
“Damn it!” I mutter under my breath, vowing to fix the mess I made if it kills me.
Determined to make amends, I wipe a combination of salty tears and rain from my eyes, digging deep for that brave girl Jordan fell for. Whether he wants to hear it or not, my apology will be delivered in person tonight.
Decision made, I attempt to scale the stone wall below his window like Spider-Man but give up with nothing to show for my trouble but a few scratches and what will undoubtedly be a massive bruise come morning. His room may be on the first floor, but it’s still too far off the ground to reach without a ladder. In the movies, there’s always a ladder lying around—or a trellis—but Jordan’s family appears to be fresh out of both.
What I wouldn’t give for a boom box. Not that he’d hear my grand gesture over the bitter rock anthems rattling his windows.
Short of safer options, I spy a giant concrete sphere in what appears to be the Zen garden, and burn a few hundred calories rolling it across the wet ground and through the shrub row to position it under his window. Who needs Pilates when a little breaking and entering will do the trick? Desperate times and all that. With my luck, I’ll set off an alarm and get arrested before Jordan even realizes I’m here.
As soon as I catch my breath, I climb onto the slick concrete ball, rising to my toes to peer into Jordan’s window. Under any other circumstances, watching his muscles flex as he pummels the red leather bag in the center of his room in nothing but a pair of loose-fitting gray sweatpants would thrill me. But his choice in music stings my already wounded pride.
“I Hate Everything About You” by Three Days Grace blasts through the speakers, vibrating the glass. When that song fades out, The All-American Rejects’ “Stab My Back” replaces it. Ouch. There’s no doubt in my mind who inspired his playlist.
The rain picks up again, threatening to wash me away in a torrent. Resting my palms against the rough stone siding, I steady myself on the wet sphere, but my hand slips, and my head connects with the glass hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.
Jordan spins around, just in time for a flash of lightning to give up my position.
“Kennedy?” His lips form my name, and he cocks his head, blinking several times as if he expects me to vanish at any second.
Until this instant, I wasn’t sure if he’d seen the photos, but his anguished gaze tells me all I need to know.
“Jordan, please. Give me a chance to explain.” I can barely hear my own voice over the music, but it doesn’t stop me from pleading with him through the glass.
He shakes his head, silencing the music before sliding the massive window open and glaring down at me. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you. I can only imagine what you must think, but it’s not—”
