Chapter 12 Shit’s starting to get real #2
“Matt, it’s not like I’m asking you to take care of me. I can take care of my goddamn self. All I want is for you to be on standby. What if my fever spikes in the middle of the night and I’m so delirious I can’t drive to the hospital.”
“You can call me then.”
“High fevers can cause seizures. I could swallow my tongue.”
“My answer’s still no.”
Tyler gritted his teeth. “You know what? You’re fired!”
“Ty, it’s only August and you’ve already fired me six times this year.”
“I mean it this time.”
He heard Matthew sigh on the other side. “Fine. I’ll come over.”
“Really?”
“No!”
And with that, former best friend hung up the phone.
Tyler tossed his phone on the coffee table, switched on the TV and dropped down onto the sofa.
Matthew was right. He was a bit of a hypochondriac, but he had good reason.
As a child and even as a young adult, he’d been rushed to the hospital several times because of abnormally high fevers so he was just naturally cautious whenever he had an unexplained spike in temperature.
Apart from the headache, he had no other flu-like symptoms. He was burning up for no apparent reason.
If that wasn’t cause for concern, then what was?
He had left the office early today, taken a variety of pills and yet he wasn’t feeling any better. It was almost six o’ clock and the pounding in his head was still persisting.
About half an hour later, he heard a knock on the door and exhaled a breath of relief. That’s why Matthew was his best friend because best friends were always just a phone call away. Lethargically, he stood up and went to answer it.
“You’re not Matthew.”
A pretty smile curved on pretty lips. “I know. Thanks for pointing that out, though. For a moment I wasn’t sure.” Jordan stepped in and he closed the door behind her. “So what’s the big emergency? Matt said you needed to see me urgently, a life or death situation.”
Tyler groaned inwardly. “He shouldn’t have done that. I asked him to come over. Sorry about this. I have fired him already, if that’s any consolation.”
She giggled. “Are you going to tell me why I’m here?”
He didn’t want to admit this to Jordan. Matt knew his whole history, even stayed with him in the hospital a few times.
But saying this to Jordan made him feel like…
a hypochondriac…with a classic case of man-flu.
“I’m not feeling well,” he admitted sheepishly.
“Matt was supposed to be my standby guy in case I need…medical assistance, but he sent you here instead, so he’s officially fired as my best friend as well. ”
“Yes, that is cause for you to re-evaluate your friendship with Matt.” She shrugged off her coat and hung it up on the coat rack near the door. “But I’m already here, so I guess I can be your standby guy.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Tyler, you look awful. I’ll stay for a bit.” She walked in further and looked around, taking in the dark hardwood floors and double volume windows overlooking the Seattle skyline. “Nice penthouse you got here.”
His place could be described as the perfect, modern bachelor pad, decorated in brown and white and other neutral tones.
It was a one-bedroom loft, with his bedroom and master bathroom on the top floor, and the kitchen and living room on the bottom level.
Every room was spacious, but as a whole, it could only be considered big enough for one person.
Trisha had asked to move in with him last year and it didn’t take long before it started to feel cramped.
They were planning on getting a bigger place this year, but that plan had changed drastically.
“This staircase is a little scary. No railings.” She walked up two stairs and it seemed like she chickened out. Taking a few steps back to the entrance, she stopped and smiled at him. “I expected your place to be a bit bigger.”
“I prefer simple and practical.”
“Practical, but not private.” She looked around again. “There isn’t a door in this place. I can see straight into your bedroom from here.”
“I don’t need privacy. I live alone…now.”
She walked into the living room, kicked off her heels, and made herself comfortable on the couch.
“Did you come straight from the office?”
The question was pretty pointless. She was still wearing the same black skirt and peach blouse she had on earlier and that was an answer on its own. Yet he felt the need to fill the space with pointlessness so that his mind wouldn’t have to dwell on the fact that he was alone with Jordan.
“Yeah.” She reached for the remote and flipped through the channels. “Sit down, Tyler. Make yourself at home.”
It was an L-shaped sofa and he sat down as far away from her as possible. He dropped his head on the armrest and managed to stretch his legs out along the cushions without touching her at all.
“I love this movie!” she said sprightly.
He saw Samuel L. Jackson on screen and shook his head. “Snakes on a plane?” he grumbled. “This is the worst movie ever.”
“I can’t believe you would say that,” she replied with exasperation. “The greatest line of all time comes from this movie.”
“If you say—”
“I am tired of these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane.”
That was the exact line he was hoping she wouldn’t say yet hearing her say it still drew a smile out of him.
The profanities that came out of this woman’s mouth.
He liked it, though. Not the words as such, but her ease in using them.
Most of his employees were always on their best behavior around him.
As soon as he walked by, ties were straightened and he had to endure fake smiles and overly friendly greetings.
But not with Jordan. Jordan never felt the need to impress anyone.
She spoke her mind and never tried to be anyone other than herself.
“Language,” he muttered playfully.
“If you think I’m bad, you should meet my brother, Kevin.”
Drowsiness made it difficult to continue the conversation. It was around the time when the snakes escaped from the boxes in the cargo hold that his eyelids became heavy and he passed out.
His dream state was interrupted by a gentle hand tapping him lightly on the cheek.
“Tyler?” she whispered. “I’m gonna go now.”
“What time is it?” he mumbled, struggling to open his eyes. He was only catching glimpses of her kneeling down beside the sofa, but that was definitely a face he could get used to waking up to.
“It’s after midnight. I made dinner for you in case you get hungry.” She ran her hand over his forehead and through his damp hair. “I think your fever broke, so I’m gonna head home, okay?”
With her shoes and purse clasped in one arm, she stood up and he immediately caught her wrist. “You’re not going.”
He slowly sat up and was surprised and relieved when he didn’t feel the dizzy pounding in his head. A six-hour nap had obviously done him well.
“Tyler, it’s late. I really have to go.”
“That’s precisely the reason why you aren’t going anywhere. I’m not letting you trek back home by yourself at this hour.”
“I’ve been battling the streets of Seattle all on my own for a few years now. I’ll be fine.” She stepped back and he tightened his hold on her wrist.
“Let me say this in a way you understand. You’re not going.”
“That’s exactly the way you said it before.” Pulling her hand out of his, she walked to the door. “And…I’m not spending the night.”
The door was only opened a few inches when he came up behind her and slammed it shut. She turned around to face him and she was livid, her lips pulled into a tight line.
“That’s funny,” he said with a smirk. “I don’t remember giving you a choice.
” He was closer to her than he would have liked, too close, on the verge of throwing his moral compass kind of close.
They weren’t touching, but one step and he could have her pressed up against that door.
A deep breath was needed to renew his resolve.
It was so stupid what he did to himself.
He could get a driver to take her home and avoid this constant, frustrating temptation, but unfortunately, he’d developed a rather annoying addiction to her.
He locked the door, placed the key in his pocket, and walked to the kitchen. “Have you eaten?”
“Yes.” She dropped her things near the door and followed him in, still arguing a matter he thought was closed for discussion. “I think whatever medication you took has distorted your reality filter. I have no clothes, no toothbrush, no place to sleep.”
His eyes searched for the dinner she had promised. He was starving now. His damp sweatshirt was feeling heavy and uncomfortable on his skin and this unnecessary argument was only making him more irritable.
“It’s in the microwave,” she stated, obviously noticing his prowl for nutrition.
“Thanks, Jordan. I really appreciate this.” He made a beeline straight for the microwave.
After re-heating the vegetable casserole, he placed his plate on the island counter and dropped himself down on the wooden stool.
“I have an extra toothbrush,” he said between bites.
“You can use my clothes and sleep in my bed.”
This sweatshirt was really bothering him now, feeling hot and icky every time he moved. He grabbed it from the back and pulled it over his head, freeing his arms and tossing it on the counter beside him.
She froze, a flush creeping up her neck and he didn’t know if it was the mention of sleeping in his bed or his shirtless torso that had her turning all shades of red.
He held back a smile, watching how she struggled for composure.
His eyes just ate her up. She was barefoot.
Her hair had been released from her bun; dark, untamed curls hanging around her face, and her blouse was untucked from her skirt.
Ah, the perfect state of imperfect Jordan.
But imperfect Jordan had a glint in her eye that would leave him struggling for composure if he didn’t take some corrective action.