More than Friends - Monica Murphy by Monica Murphy Page B

quad.”
    He makes a face. “It’s hot as hell outside. Come with me.”
    I shake my head. I don’t want to get in his car. I’ll say something dumb. Or worse, I’ll do something dumb. Something I’ll regret.
    “Come on, Mandy. I’ll buy you lunch.”
    My stomach growls at the word lunch, but I shake my head again.
    “We can work on our project together,” he suggests, like that’s going to tempt me.
    “I’m not going to write Juliet’s diary entry in front of you,” I snap, surprised he’d even suggest it.
    Now he’s frowning. “Get in the car.” I hear the doors unlock and he studies me with that quiet yet powerful look he’s perfected. The one that says, do as I say.
    Heaving a big sigh, I round the front of the car and open the passenger side door, plopping my butt into the seat. “There.” I turn to look at him after I shut the door. “Happy?”
    “Very.” He pulls his sunglasses back on, puts the vehicle in drive and off we go, speeding through the parking lot and pulling out through the entrance-only side and onto the street.
    “Jordan!” I did not mean to say his name out loud, but jeez. He’s gonna get in trouble for pulling a stunt like that.
    He grins at me and presses the gas hard, speeding down the road toward the restaurants all of us students frequent during lunchtime and after school. “Loosen up, Winters. You only have one life. Learn how to live it.”
    My hands ball into fists in my lap. I can’t believe he just said that. He’s so infuriating sometimes. “Are you saying I don’t know how to live my life?” He doesn’t even know me. Not really. Not well enough to give me that sort of advice.
    “No.” He keeps his eyes trained on the road before him. “I’m just saying you shouldn’t be scared. You need to learn how to take more risks.”
    I’ve taken more risks these past few months than I ever have in my entire life. “I’m a planner. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
    Tuttle says nothing, implying there’s everything wrong with that, but whatever.
    “Were you really going to lunch by yourself?” I finally ask.
    “I didn’t want to. I was taking a risk and hoping I could find you.”
    I sag against my soft leather seat. He’s exhausting. Now it’s my turn to not have a response.
    “Do you want anything in particular?”
    Shaking my head, I tell him, “You decide,” and he doesn’t argue with me. He pulls into In-N-Out, goes straight to the drive thru and lets me make my own order at the speaker.
    “You mind eating in the car?” he asks after we finish ordering.
    “Not if you don’t. Though I can’t guarantee I won’t spill anything.”
    He smiles, and it’s breathtaking. He just doesn’t do it enough, I swear. “I’m not scared.”
    I bet he’s not.
    Jordan pays and grabs our food, handing me the bags and my drink. I take a sip and set it in the drink holder in the center console, quiet as he pulls out of the parking lot and starts driving farther away from school. I don’t know where he’s taking us, and I don’t want to ask. I also don’t want to freak out, but the farther we get, the longer it’ll take for us to return to campus. And I don’t want to be late to fifth period.
    Finally, he pulls into a parking lot of a small neighborhood park. It’s been around for a while, you can tell by all the tall trees and the worn out playground, but it’s quiet and mostly empty. He parks the car in the shade and shuts off the engine, the sound of the satellite radio playing softly in the background.
    I divvy out the food, giving him his burger and fries, trying to keep myself busy. I’m nervous. My hands are shaking and my appetite left me the moment I took hold of those bags, despite the delicious smell wafting from them. With grim determination I pull out my burger and stare at it, wondering how I’m going to choke this down.
    It’s so frustrating, how he affects me. How I let him affect me. I shouldn’t give him so much