Page 47 of You've Got a Place Here, Too
The sensation of Kendrick’s fingers clasping around my upper arm sends a jolt through me. He quickly lets go, but comes around to stand in front of me, blocking my escape.
“I’m serious, Kendrick. I am not in the mood for your mess.”
“I’m not messing with you, Jordyn. I want to help.”
I fold my arms over my chest and stare up at him. He’s in a hoodie and jeans today. And, yes, they look good on him.
“I heard what Dr. Cornwall said to you.” His hands fly up in front of him. “I happened to be passing by Dr. C’s office, and I heard your voice. I couldn’t help myself. I had to stop.”
My stomach flips at the earnestness in his tone and that sympathetic look clouding his eyes.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and hunches his shoulders. “First, I…uh…want to apologize for how I stormed out of the meeting the other day. I still don’t agree with the direction you’re taking the extravaganza, and it sounds as if Dr. C agrees with me, but that doesn’t excuse the way I acted.”
Well, he’s right about one thing. Dr. Cornwall is as unhappy with my ideas as he had been at the meeting.
“Apology accepted,” I murmur.
“Look, there isn’t much time before the extravaganza,” Kendrick says. “Do you think we can work together to find a solution before it’s too late?”
“You left the committee,” I remind him.
“I want back on.”
I don’t respond.
His admission throws me. Navigating my feelings about Kendrick is both frustrating and confusing. One minute I’m wishing he was back on the committee, the next I’m glad he isn’t.
“Come on, Jordyn,” Kendrick prods. “Don’t be like this.”
The words come out in a near whisper, but I hear the sincerity in them. I practicallyfeelit.
My first instinct is to reply with one of the usual sarcastic comebacks we tend to trade, but the soberness in his eyes stops me. I don’t want to trade barbs with him. I want to…to…I don’t know what I want.
That’s not true. Idoknow what I want, but I’m not ready to admit it to myself. How could I possibly admit it to Kendrick?
“Jordyn?”
“The committee is meeting with the catering services,” I tell him. “Four o’clock.”
The smile that lights up his face is one I will no doubt dream about when I fall asleep tonight.
“Thanks,” he says. He hunches his shoulders. “I need to get to class. I’ll see you at four.”
The spicy aroma of jambalaya, crawfish étouffée, and shrimp creole overpowers the small room that has been set up for the committee to sample the proposed menu for the extravaganza.
“This is the reason I didn’t leave the committee with Lacey and the rest of them,” Brandi Jones says. “I didn’t want to miss this day.”
Knowing Brandi only stuck around for a free meal doesn’t giveme much confidence in her commitment to the extravaganza, but I also can’t blame her. This food looks amazing. I make my way along the table, scooping a small helping of each dish onto my plate.
“You don’t have anything against spice, do you?”
My spine goes ramrod straight at the sound of Kendrick’s voice in my ear. I didn’t realize he was this close.
“I like spice,” I toss over my shoulder. “I do think these dishes may be a bit rich—”
“Jordyn.” There’s a hint of frustration in his voice.
“I’m joking,” I say. “Lighten up.”
