Just ask. The Tomboy Code does say some pretty crazy stuff about you

"Maybe I am, but I'd rather err on the side of caution," you say.

Mom did tell you that your name came with responsibilities. That's what you're doing here. Being responsible. However pretty Jordan is, you shouldn't dive in before performing a sanity check.

"The Tomboy Code says a lot of things about me. A lot of things. To an outsider, some of it seems pretty crazy," you elaborate. "If we're going to be friends, I need to know it's because of me, not because of my title."

Jordan is very understanding. "9th Tenet: Genuine associations with others," she says. "Sure, it's awesome you're the Master Tomboy, but if I didn't like being around you, I wouldn't pretend. I'd let you know. The 9th cuts both ways."

"That's not all the Tomboy Code says, though," you say. "It practically defines me as your best friend. It says you can trust me, no matter what. But what if I mess up?"

The woman shrugs. "Nobody's perfect."

"Did you invite me out to go climbing because you felt obligated to?"

"Yeah right. I invited you to go climbing because whipping you into shape was a good time," says Jordan.

You screw up your face. "And me being the First and Best Childhood Friend has nothing to do with that?"

"Sure, it plays into it, but not how you're thinking," she says, nonchalantly. "You're the Master Tomboy. Imagine a 30-day satisfaction guaranteed label, that's what it means to me. I know - well, I have faith - that we'll be friends."

The reply is as vague as it is unsatisfying. "But what if we don't get along?"

Jordan snorts. "We're not getting along already?"

Well, she's not wrong.

She continues. "But even if we didn't, it wouldn't be the end of the world. Even friends are allowed to fight. Are you honestly telling me you've never fought with your best friend?"

You think of Cori. You don't want to relinquish the point, but you're **** to. "No. But I don't think two people should be **** to act like friends by some set of arbitrary rules."

"Agreed," she replies. "If it turns out I hate you on a fundamental level, that's on the Code."

Your stomach knots. "That's what I'm afraid of. I don't want to be the thing that gets between you and your beliefs." If you were ever the reason a girl stopped being a tomboy, how could you live with yourself?

But Jordan simply smiles. "Who do you think cares more about my beliefs? You or me? If all it takes to break the Code is some scrawny 20-year-old kid, then the Code isn't much worth following. If it's all fake, better I know sooner than later."

That makes a kind of sense, you suppose, but it's not all you're worried about. "And what about the other parts of the Code? Do you believe the rest too?"

She tilts her head in question. "What other stuff? There's a lot of stuff in the Code."

Reading about the Code's more, shall we say, excessive commandments was what compelled you to come out to the climbing gym in the first place, but you lack the backbone to mention them outright. "That part of the Code where it talks about... you know... unhindered access." Even uttering the words makes you feel like a creep.

Jordan doesn't flinch. "You mean the doctrine of the Master Trainer. Sure I believe it. Look at me, I'm living proof."

She flexes her bicep, which attracts your gaze like a moth to flame. Man, you sure want to feel her muscles up close.

Having seized your attention, Jordan grins. "If it weren't for the Master Tomboy and the Cult, society would've never changed. They'd **** women like me to stay inside and knit all day, and when I turned 12, they'd marry me off to some widower older than my dad." She shudders. "Instead, I do what I want to do, and if society knows what's good for it, it stays out of my way."

That all sounds good, but the Code was pretty explicit. "But what if I told you to pull up your shirt so I could-" you cut yourself off. Lick your abs is what you were going to day. Crap, did you almost say that out loud? Your face heats.

Jordan raises her eyebrows. "Pull up my shirt so you could what? Did you want to check the goods?" Out of nowhere, she briefly pulls up the front of her tank top and you catch a flash of toned stomach. Holy shit.

Your heart leaps into your throat; instinctually you push her arms back down. "What are you doing?"

"Making a joke," she says stiffly, knocking your hands aside. "You do know I'm wearing a bra under this? I'm not that type of tomboy."

There are types? "But - are you serious? If I asked, you'd -"

"You're the Master Trainer," Jordan reminds you, gesturing down to herself. "I worked hard to get where I am, and I'm proud of it. You should be proud too."

Your brain short circuits. "I should be proud of your body?"

"Hell yeah you should! Why shouldn't you?" The woman elbows you sharply in the ribs. "I'm a tomboy, I'm following the trail you and your ancestors blazed. How I look, how I treat myself, as much as it's a reflection of me, it's a reflection of you, too. The Tomboy Code teaches that our bodies are temples. Well, that means whenever people see me, they're seeing a temple to you. Why not be proud of that?"

Your eyes flick down Jordan's stomach to her strong thighs, then back up again. Nervous, aimless energy fills you. "To be clear. If I actually asked to... to check the goods, you'd legitimately go along with that?"

Jordan laughs. "What kind of temple hides from its architect?"

Sweet mother of mercy. Dreams do come true. Up is down, fantasy is reality, the Master Tomboy exists, and he is you.

The veteran climber reads you like a book, not that it's hard. "I can give you the tour if you want," suggests Jordan, sounding almost eager. "I'll make sure it's not weird."