Loved From Afar

Jordan could still remember the very first time Evan mentioned her. They were juniors in college…

“You’ve got to meet this girl,” Evan told him as they walked toward the quad after class one late September afternoon. “I think she might be the one.”

“The one?” Jordan said, incredulous that ‘Mister One-Night-Stand’ himself would even think about monogamy. “You don’t even know what that means. You go through women like water. You, Evan Anders, are a poster boy for players and heartbreakers everywhere.”

“You’re not wrong,” Evan grinned. “But there’s just something about this girl…anyway, I’m bringing her to the Omega party tonight. I seriously want you to meet her.”

“Whatever, dude,” Jordan replied, shaking his head.

“You’re going, right? Jordan – tell me you’re going. Too much studying isn’t good for you.”

“And you really shouldn’t be going,” Jordan shot back. “You really need to do more studying, Evan. Football’s only gonna get you so far, man, and it’s hard to find a team to play on if they kick your dumb ass out of college.”

Evan looked at him for a long moment.

“Remind me again how it is we’re best friends?”

But Jordan honestly had never been able to figure that one out himself.

He and Evan Anders were as opposite as could be. Evan was six feet two, with broad shoulders and the typical blond-and-blue Adonis-like looks women swoon over, not to mention a gifted football player. He was also extremely outgoing - he’d never met a stranger.

Jordan, on the other hand, preferred solitude and learning, thought his dark brown hair and eyes were boring, and was still hoping for the late growth spurt that would finally launch him past his current best-ever five feet eight inches tall.

But for whatever reason, they’d become fast friends in seventh grade, and it had stayed that way ever since.

“Come on, man,” Evan sulked. “I really want you to meet her.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Jordan said in exasperation. “But I’m not gonna stay long. Some of us actually care about our grades, you know.”

“You’re such a dork,” Evan teased, and shoved Jordan lightly, like a brother might. “See you tonight, man.”

And Evan veered off the sidewalk, moving over the grass toward the dorms reserved exclusively for the football team.

***

Four hours later, Jordan found himself in the middle of a collegiate Greek tragedy. The levels of drunkenness were already reaching epic heights by the time he arrived - even for Omegas.

Evan owes me big, he thought bitterly. He’s the only freakin’ reason I’m here.

He shoved his way through a mass of sweaty bodies jumping and swaying to a blaringly loud and seemingly endless techno grind, and finally made it into the frat house’s kitchen where it was quieter – but not by much. Striding to the other side of the room, he took a chance but found only a single cold beer left in the fridge.

Frustrated, he closed the refrigerator door, then turned around and bumped straight into the woman of his dreams.

I’ll be damned. Love at first sight does exist, he thought, then fought against the heat he felt creeping into his face.

She stood, watching him with her sapphire blue eyes, twirling a small strand of her long blond hair around her index finger. She stood maybe five feet six, at the most, with golden, sun-kissed skin and curves in all the right places. Even in a t-shirt and faded jeans, she owned the room.

“Anything other than beer in there?” she asked hopefully, and her sweet Southern drawl was as warm and rich as a fine whiskey.

Jordan stood gaping at her for a moment before he managed to find his voice.

“Nope,” he answered, and it sounded rough and scratchy to his ears.

He cleared his throat and tried again.

“No,” he said. “Not even water.”

“That’s a shame,” the angelic vision in front of him said. “I don’t drink beer.”

“Me either. Too bitter.”

Her cute little nose wrinkled as she answered him.

“I know, right? The taste isn’t bad, but the aftertaste…” her voice trailed off as she shuddered. “Blech.”

“My name’s Jordan,” he said, then endured another stretch of unbearable silence during which they just stared at one another. To break it, he blurted out, “Baker.”

“You’re a baker?” she grinned in amusement, and her smile made his heart grow wings.

“No,” he managed to say, and found himself smiling back at her. “That’s my last name. Jordan Baker.”

She held out her hand in greeting, and when he clasped it, he swore he felt an electric current surge through his body, so powerful he wanted to sing.

She began to speak, to tell him her name, but was interrupted.

“Jordan! My man!” he heard Evan shout from the kitchen doorway. “There you are. And hey, perfect timing. My two favorite people are here.”

Oh no, Jordan thought. Dude, don’t say it…

“Karli, this is Jordan, my best friend since what, fifth grade?”

“Seventh,” he corrected Evan, his stomach filling with lead at what he knew Evan was going to say next.

“Jordan, this is Karli Bellows… the one I was telling you about.”

Of course, she is…

As he watched them standing together, Evan’s arm slung casually around Karli’s dainty shoulders, Jordan realized that for the first time since he’d met Evan Anders, he wanted very badly to be in his shoes…

But it wouldn’t be the last time. Not by a long shot.

Not when it came to Karli Bellows.