One Little Chance (Sweet River)

Chapter 8

FEbrUARY 2ND, 2023

Sweet River Elementary Teacher Chat

Diane

Hey guys, I’m here and grabbed us a bench for whoever can make it to the game tonight! It’s the third row.

also there’s a discount on popcorn for the staff—make sure to show your badge

Caroline

It’s Mr. Ritchie’s son who’s in charge tonight and he has a heavy hand with the butter, so you’ll wanna grab some

O ne of my favorite things about living in a small town in Texas was the high school sports games. The crowds were loud and full, the snacks were relished more than any five-star dining situation, gossip was made and shared in the span of a few hours, and you never knew who you might run into.

Or find yourself sitting by.

I’d donned my oversized gray Sweet River High sweatshirt for the basketball game that early February night. I strolled inside hit by waves of nostalgia and the scent of nacho cheese. I got myself a tub of popcorn and a soda and made my way into the gym, squinting into the bleachers to find Diane, our art teacher, pointing to the empty spot beside her. I squeezed through the stands toward her and our small teacher group.

I plopped down beside them.

Before I could say hello, I heard a familiar deep voice rumble, “I like the sweatshirt.”

In shock, I jerked to the right, popcorn flinging from my tub as I startled, to find two warm hazel eyes on me. Jordan .

Jordan was currently covered in my freshly buttered popcorn. It was a tragedy on so many levels.

I had been zeroed in on finding Diane and our teacher crew. I hadn’t noticed one of the most important faces in my life sitting beside them.

“Oh no. Oh no,” I repeated, scrambling to pick kernels off his navy sweater, feeling my face flush. “I didn’t mean to spill this on you!”

“You mean you didn’t mean to throw popcorn as some evil act of vengeance for how I used to crush you on the court?” He was smiling down at me as I dusted salt off his torturously broad chest. A smile I knew well, the one when he pitied me and found me cute at the same time.

I immediately pulled back. “ Crushed me on the court? Dream on.”

He chuckled. Sneakers squeaked across the court below.

I spotted a few more kernels on his jeans, saying, “I am sorry.” I buried my face in my salty hands.

He leaned in closer, peering into the half-empty tub in my lap. “You know, sharing that last half would more than make up for it? Throw in some nachos, and honestly, I’ll be glad you spilled on me.”

“Deal.” I reached out a hand, and we shook on it, defenses between us melting like butter.

Jordan and I came back from the concessions with more popcorn, two pickles, an order of nachos, and a large soda for Jordan. As we settled back into our seats, Jordan had already finished his pickle and was gulping down his soda. I’d forgotten how much he ate. I used to say he had to fuel all his motion. Always running, always playing a game, building something new, throwing a ball, talking to a neighbor.

“How’s the new apartment coming along?” Jordan woke me from my thoughts like we were old pals and checked in on each other.

“It’s coming along nicely,” I said, then after taking a sip of my soda continued. “Pictures have been hung. Furniture arranged. I have this perfect view from my living room and bedroom of the park across the street.”

“Oh, yeah, Hall Park?” Jordan said, and I nodded. “I’ve coached kids’ soccer there the past few years.”

“Why does the sound of you coaching soccer on the weekend make perfect sense?” The shot clock buzzed. People shouted around us.

“I started for my nephew, and I guess it stuck.”

“You have multiple nieces and nephews now, right?” I asked as if I hadn’t been following along the past few years through social media and conversations with mutual friends.

“Two nephews and two nieces. It’s the best.” He opened his phone and started swiping through photos, leaning close to show me. Him holding tiny, pink babies. Him with a little toddler girl on his shoulders.

“That’s Kimber,” he said her name softly. Him at the zoo making funny faces with two little boys in front of the monkeys. “Those two can wreak havoc, but they’re hilarious.”

“This one,” I pointed at the sandy-haired one with a wide smile. “Looks like you.”

Jordan gazed lovingly at the photo. “You think?”

“Spitting image of you as a boy,” I said, taking in Jordan’s own sandy hair and big smile.

“That’s Logan,” he said. “He is actually severely hard of hearing. He’s not deaf, but we realized when he was barely a toddler, he was having trouble hearing. He just got cochlear implants. It’s been a lot on Jenna.” He softened as he said his sister’s name. “She’s a mom now. It’s crazy. And she’s a really good one.”

“I’m sure she is a good one,” I said over the noise of the crowd around us. Jenna was always so strong and steady, keeping us younger kids in check. It was easy to imagine her as a mom now.

“It’s been fun to watch.” He closed his phone. “Is it weird? You left, and I was just this dumb nineteen-year-old kid. You come back, and I’m an uncle with a bigger family.”

“Your family has always been giant.” I popped a piece of popcorn in my mouth. “You all keep growing and growing. Soon you’ll take over Sweet River.”

He leaned back against the stands. “How’s Orlando?”

“He’s in college now. We keep going in circles around his major. He’s not sure what he wants to do when he ‘grows up.’” I had to fight the physical urge to lean into Jordan or interlace my fingers with his as we spoke, like some agonizing muscle memory.

“Grown-up Orlando.” Jordan shook his head at the thought.

The conversation kept unrolling like an endless path before us. We had so much to catch up on. I glanced toward my teacher friends who were immersed in a group conversation I hadn’t even noticed. Jordan and I were in our own bubble.

Jordan was telling me about his grandmother’s health, and I was telling him about how my dad and I started talking again. I made eye contact with Diane, who wiggled her eyebrows at me. I knew later she and the whole group would want to know everything about the guy who stole my attention at the game.

Growing up, these high school games felt long and eventful. So much could happen on the court and in the stands, and sometimes I’d want it to wrap up so I could go home.

Not tonight. Before I was ready…there was the final buzzer, everyone standing to their feet and packing up. Jordan and I cut off mid-conversation. He shrugged. His friends turned to him to discuss their plans for the rest of the night—me, not included.

“Who’s the guy?” Diane whispered to me as I gathered my empty popcorn tub and soda cup. Diane hadn’t grown up in Sweet River like half of the other teachers on staff.

“An old…” Friend? Flame? Nothing about my feelings for Jordan felt old right now. If anything, they felt new after all this time. A seed planted long ago, after all this time still growing. Ex , I finally mouthed. Her eyes widened.

But he was so much more than that.

The group of teachers around me invited me to grab food downtown. Thankfully, they’d become a warm welcoming friend group for me the past couple months. I was half-listening, my eyes on Jordan as he and his friends started to exit the stands.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d wanted this time with him until I was watching it slip away like water through my fingers.

I probably shouldn’t be blatantly staring at him like this, I chastised myself ineffectively.

He stepped onto the gym floor, then turned and looked up into the stands. His smile widened as his eyes landed on me. He raised a hand in a lazy wave like he’d always done.

The dose of nostalgia, of this man in this school beaming up at me, was like waves at high tide. I felt breathless from the impact.

I could almost hear his voice from a decade ago yelling out, See you, Sophie! and I’d say back, Not if I see you first , and our friends would roll their eyes at our cheesy, high school romance.

I raised my hand, too, and gave a small wave. He paused. His smile fell but not in an unhappy way. Instead, it looked like maybe the memory was pulling him under, too. His friend patted him on the shoulder, and he turned to follow them out the door.

I’d known seeing Jordan again was going to ache a little. Letting him go was a hasty, desperate choice from my young adult years. I’d moved on, so it was an ache I was prepared to ignore. But what I was feeling right now was so much stronger than an ache in the background. These feelings were burning in my chest.