Jesse heard Jordyn’s brothers before he saw them. He heard them before he even entered the house, actually.
“Okay, look,” Jordyn said, stopping him outside of the door. It was an old red farmhouse. It had a lot of land and a silo that seemed to have been out of use for years. A small chicken coop and a barn seemed abandoned in the distance, next to a massive old oak with a tire hanging from it on a frayed rope. A Rottweiler was laying under it in the dirt, fast asleep.
“Just… act cool in front of my brothers… okay?”
“Oh, so now I’m not cool?”
She rested her hand on his arm and looked up at him with those eyes. She found herself to be dying to for closeness and contact with him.
“They’re just a little protective… especially Nate.”
“How old is Nate?”
“Seventeen. He’s a quarterback, and hockey player, and a pitcher… and he runs track.”
“Wow,” Jesse said, nodding slightly and half-grinning. “What about Mitch and Alex?”
“They only play hockey. And Alex plays football…”
“You’re screwed,” said Laura laughing.
“I see,” he said, nodding. Then he bent down and kissed her head again. “It’s still worth it.” He grinned. Jordyn looked down to hide her smile and went to the door. She pushed it open.
“Oh, shit, wait.” She pulled off the sweatshirt and handed it to Laura. “Put this on.”
Laura obliged. She liked Jordyn. She couldn’t understand how she could be interested of her brother, of all people, but she still seemed like a nice person. Stupid, maybe, and she laughed too much, but she was nice. Laura pulled the sweatshirt over her head. It fell to the tops of her purple boots.
“Okay,” Jordyn said, sighing nervously as if she had never brought a boy home before.
Loud music was coming from somewhere in the house. It was like punk rock or scream or something. Laura wrinkled her nose. There was a huge mess as they walked through the screen door into the living room. A kid about her brother’s age came bounding down the stairs, his messy brown curls bouncing in his dark chocolate brown eyes. Cute, Laura thought. She wished she didn’t have to be eight.
“Hey, Alex,” Jordyn said. He came over and hugged his twin, silently sizing up Jesse with his eyes.
“Hey,” he said, pushing his hands into the pockets of his baggy sweats. His voice was slightly deeper and more mature than Jesse’s. His tank top revealed how much more muscular he was.
“Where’s Mitch and Nate?”
“Kitchen. Bedroom.” He was still looking at Jesse. He seemed shy, actually. He had a certain reserved nature about him that reminded Jesse of his usual self, the self that he was without Jordyn. “Who’s that?”
“This is Laura,” Jordyn said, purposefully indicating the eight-year-old little girl first. Laura waved in what she thought of as a sexy wave that she had seen Meryl Streep do in a movie, making grasping-type movements with her fingers and flashing a smile with missing teeth. Alex hardly gave her a glance.
