Letters to Nowhere #1 (Completed!)

Letters to Nowhere: Part 24

After practice, before I could get to the locker room to change, Jordan came stumbling through the gym's front doors, red-faced and shivering.

            "What are you doing here?" I asked.

            He blew on his hands, rubbing them together before unzipping his ski jacket. "Uh, giving you a ride home except, I might not be able to do that."

            "What happened?"       

            "Car broke down," he said through chattering teeth. "About a mile away. I guess my dad practices what he preaches with his rule of no cell phones on the floor. I really need to program the number for the front desk into my phone."

            "Sorry." I glanced at the door to the conference room, sealed shut to keep gymnasts and parents out. "He just started his staff meeting. We might be hanging out here for a while."

            Blair came out of the locker room right then and I could feel her eyes on us, taking in the situation. She grabbed the strap of my leotard, yanking me into the opening of the locker room and away from Jordan. "That's Bentley's kid?"

            "Yeah."

            "He's so cute," she whispered. "Like majorly gorgeous. I can't believe you actually live with him."

            "Live with who?" Ellen asked, appearing behind Blair. She poked her head out of the locker room and squealed. "That's Jordan!"

            I shook Blair off my arm and rolled my eyes at both of them. "Jesus, you'd think he was some boy band hero or something."

            "Proof that we all really need to get a life," Blair said.

            Ellen leaned against the wall, chewing on her bottom lip. "She's right."

            "Yes, a life would be good," I agreed. "And as your friend, I'm going to save you from yourselves. Do not squeal, blush, or giggle in his presence. Either walk up to him and introduce yourself or don't. Anything in between is going to make you wish for an all-girls college, all right?"

            They both nodded, serious, as if I were the coach giving them a pre-competition pep talk.

            Ellen shoved me out the door first, causing me to stumble back into the lobby. "How about you introduce us?"

            "How about we save it for next time," Blair whispered, racing past me toward the safety of her mother waiting by the front doors with keys in hand.

            I returned to Jordan's side. He looked like he wanted to ask about the girl-drama that just went on, but he kept his mouth shut. "Sorry again about you walking a mile in this weather. Isn't it like one degree with the wind chill or something?"

            "It feels colder." He shuddered and removed his icy coat.

            Stevie was still in her leotard, chatting in the lobby with Sylvia, the team dance teacher and choreographer. I saw Jordan's eyes travel in her direction. I laughed and elbowed him in the side. "Go talk to her. You know you want to."

            He shrugged. "Maybe I will."

            I waited for several seconds and Jordan's feet stayed planted to the same spot. "That was anticlimactic."

            This time it was he who dug his elbow into my ribs. "It's not that easy. She's...older...and a world champion."

            "So is your dad," I pointed out. "And socially, Stevie is probably the same age as you. If she's anything like me, which she is because we're both elite gymnasts, then she got a late start on dating, I'm sure." Or maybe she hadn't even started?

The dance teacher walked off, leaving Stevie no choice but to see us, standing in the lobby watching her. Jordan turned to me and smirked before strolling over in Stevie's direction.

            Obviously he didn't need me standing beside him while he flirted with my teammate. I'd already invaded his make-out session the other night. "I'm gonna do more conditioning if we're stuck here for two more hours."

            "Hey, Stevie," I heard Jordan say.

            From the corner of my eye, I saw my much older, much more mature teammate blush. "Jordan, right?"

            "You remembered," he said.

            They were out of hearing range now and all I could do was watch their body language as I grabbed a jump rope and got on a high beam to do a little extra cardio. Ten minutes later, Jordan came out in the gym with me, which was now completely empty.

            It wasn't until he sat down beside the beam and looked up at me that I remembered the horrible Internet research. My jump rope stopped moving and I opened my mouth to say something but couldn't utter a single word.

            Jordan's smile faded instantly. "Uh oh...I know that look."

            I jumped down from the beam and sat beside him, checking the door to the conference room to make sure it stayed closed. "Jordan," I started.

            "Who told you?" he asked, keeping his voice low and even.

            I pulled my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them. "Promise you won't tell?"

            "Won't tell what?"

            "I have to see a shrink," I admitted. "Not a shrink, actually, because she's a PhD, not an MD. Therapist is the proper term."

            "Why would your shrink be talking about me?"

            "She didn't—I mean—she had hoped your dad would tell me, and when I said I didn't know why he let me stay with you guys, she hinted that I should look into that further, so I did." I let out a breath, praying that I wouldn't ruin this line of communication. I'd only known Jordan for a few days, but already he'd managed to save me from a lot of emotional trauma. "She said that we might have more in common than I realized."

            "I made you say it out loud, so I'll do the same." He stared right at me, nodding his head slowly. "My mom is dead, my older sister, my grandparents, but it's been a long time."

            His steady hold on his grief broke open a new wound inside me, aching in too many ways to even attempt to soothe it.

            "You and Coach Bentley weren't hurt? You weren't with them?"

            "We were at the gym that day," Jordan said. "My mom and my sister Eloise had taken my grandparents out around London. Touristy stuff." He dropped his eyes to the blue mat under us, scratching his fingernail along the seam. "My dad lost everything that day."

            Air constricted itself in my lungs, the weight pressing against my chest, but I managed to say, "Not everything."

            "Right."

            Breathe...in...out...in...out. "So...you were a gymnast?"

            He was silent for several seconds and then shook with laughter. "Yeah, I was. Nice transition, by the way."

            "I can only take so much at once, you know?"

            "Believe me, I know." He jumped to his feet, grinning down at me before sticking out a hand to help me up. "Bet you can't throw a triple back off the end of the tumble track?"

            "And you can?" The tumble track was a long trampoline—eighty feet to be exact—that landed into the foam pit. It helped with training tumbling runs for floor routines.

            Jordan kicked off his shoes and socks, emptied his pockets onto the mats beside the tumble track, and then took off his long-sleeved white uniform shirt. He stood at the end of the trampoline wearing only his khaki pants and a leather belt. "Let me warm up with a double first, okay?"

            "You're not going to kill yourself, are you?" I asked wearily. "At least stretch out a little."

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