To Be Loved

Mixed Signals March 9, 1998 10:08 PM When Jordan walked into the room and heard the music that accompanied the lights he had seen flashing in the gym windows as he approached the building with Angel on his arm, a shot of both excitement and fear bolted through him. “Rump Shaker” bumped to the rhythm of the lights. Jordan was wearing a black pinstriped tux, and his date Angel was wearing a strapless black dress with a slit that ran all the way up her thigh. He knew she was one of the finest girls in the room, and that served as some comfort, but he couldn’t shake the uneasiness he felt about the entire evening. “Jordan, you haven’t said five words to me all night.” He scanned the room through his shades. He was looking for Jericho. He had told him that he’d meet him here, but Jordan didn’t see him. The only reason he had even asked Angel to the prom in the first place was because of Jericho—and he wasn’t even there. After Jericho told him that Tasha said Angel thought Jordan was sexy, and he—from that moment on—seemed to make an effort to bring her up every time he and Jordan were together, Jordan felt he had no choice but to ask her. After that announcement, the subsequent comments, the push he felt to do it could not be ignored. And, because he had done it solely because he felt Jericho wanted him to, his asking had been just as awkward as this date was now. Remembering and recognizing all of this, Jordan was both slightly disgusted and yet, at the same time, equally relieved by her inability to see. “Jordan! You hear me? What’s wrong with you?” She threw her words at him. “I want something to drink,” she said with an attitude. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. The music is loud. What would you like?” All of this tumbled this from his lips. She rolled her eyes then smiled. “A little attention … and something to drink.” She wrapped her arm around his, as if he were a proper escort, and led him to the drinks table in the corner under the fountain. She poured herself some of the ginger ale punch, took a sip, and then came to life as if the drink were laced with adrenaline or something. She immediately started twirling and slowly gyrating to R. Kelly’s “You Remind Me of Something” before turning and whispering in his ear. “You wanna ride it …” She pulled her head back, looked in his eyes, smirked, licked her lips, and swirled back into gyration, not waiting for a response. Jordan half smiled, but didn’t answer her look, waiting for the awkward moment to pass. Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned slowly and his grin broke into an unrestrained smile. “What up, man?” Jericho smiled widely. Jordan smiled, but didn’t answer, returning the “homeboy hug” Jericho offered, catching a whiff of the chemistry between Jericho’s masculine musk and his sweet cologne as his chin grazed the crease of Jericho’s neck and shoulder when they let go of one another. “Where’s Tasha?” Jordan asked. “Oh, she coming. She stopped on the way in to talk to her girl Roxi. I bet she had to go tell how I …” then he leaned in by Jordan’s ear, “… beat them walls in.” He leaned back with a malicious grin. Jordan smiled weakly as Jericho shook his hand homeboy style again, and continued reveling in the moment. “What up, man? You tapped them draws yet?” he asked. “Naw, man,” Jordan answered feeling uncomfortable, still wearing the same weak smile. “Aye, man, aye … I got you. We got a two bedder. You think she down?” he asked, with what looked like genuine concern in his face. Jordan almost prayed he wasn’t serious. “Man, I don’t know,” Jordan said shaking his head, remembering Tasha and their history. Even though they pretended to be cool now because of Jericho, Jordan was not looking forward to being naked in a hotel room being studied by her condemning eyes. He wasn’t even sure if he was ready to be in a room naked with Jericho—the thought, even at that moment, had his sex growing in his pants. He wasn’t ready for all this. “Come on, man, lay some of that pretty ass game you got on her, I know you got it and I know my girl down.” He was serious. “Man, I don’t know,” Jordan said, still shaking his head. “Man, at least try … for me,” he said with puppy-dog eyes. Jordan caught a chill, and his stomach turned to mush. He had to. “All right, man, I’ll try,” he said. A smile flashed back over Jericho’s face. He was smiling almost as hard as Jordan was inside as he pirouetted off into the crowd. March 10, 1998 1:15 AM When Jordan walked out of the bathroom, she was sucking Jericho like a porn star. He could see this even in the near blackness of the hotel room. Caught in the specks of light that managed to sneak through the curtain by the window was Angel’s bare thigh, and, by the time Jordan made it across the room, his eyes had adjusted and his sex had swelled to a throb, but he wasn’t looking at her. When he was near his and Angel’s bed, which was only about two feet from the other, Angel rose and unbuttoned his pants. Biting on Jordan’s covered piece, she tugged on his boxers, and, when her mouth met his skin, he shivered. She pushed him back on the bed, right above Jericho’s head. Jordan threw his arms up over his head unsure whether it was the warm wet lips between his legs or Jericho’s husky moans that had him hypnotized, or the erotic tang in the air that made his sex throb. Suddenly, Jericho flipped the girl that Jordan thought was Tasha, but was some other girl Jordan didn’t recognize, over on her back, rocked the bed, and whispered, “This shit feels so good,” all while staring Jordan directly in the face before he closed his eyes and threw his head back. Immediately spasms ripped through Jordan’s body, deep down between his legs, and he moaned involuntarily. His nerves became raw. His body convulsed and tingled with sensitivity as he lay, eyes closed, listening to the bed banging against the wall imagining he were catching the thrusts.