Chapter 8 Send Out Save-the-Dates #3
Braylon’s scowl deepens. It’s equal parts murderous and I still adore you in spite of your complete and utter ignorance.
“Hi, Braylon!” Jordan says.
Just like that, Braylon blinks out of his rage. He leans into the camera. “Oh, Jordan. How’s Atlanta?”
“The worst.”
“Join the club.” Braylon half turns. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure my shot records are up to date being that my boyfriend is trying to poison me.”
“Bye, Braylon!”
With a huff, Braylon stomps away.
“Love you!” Denz yells after him.
The unintelligible response that follows from inside the apartment makes Denz flinch. He frowns at Jordan. “I told you he was gonna kill me.”
“You did,” Jordan confirms between laughs.
“Tell me more about the wedding planning.”
Jordan grins around a bite of his pickle. He launches into what he’s accomplished so far.
Denz nods his approval.
“Did you—” Jordan pauses to consider his words. “Did you know Amy well? In high school?”
“We had a couple of classes together.”
“Is that all?”
Denz’s lips purse thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess. We didn’t run in the same circles.”
“So you never, like, hung around her? And … Jamie?”
Something brightens in Denz’s eyes. Like he understands where this is going. God, Jordan hopes so. He’s not even sure where he’s going with these questions. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up?
“Nooo,” Denz drags out, half smiling at the amount of cringe on Jordan’s face. “The three of us never went for milkshakes and gossip after school.”
“I didn’t say that!”
Denz rolls his eyes in that it was implied way. “My friendship with Jamie is fucking magical. It should be studied in the schools. But it’s also kind of rare. For him, I mean.”
Jordan raises his eyebrows, lost.
“Jamie’s parents kept him around a certain social circle his whole life,” Denz clarifies. “He’s not a big fan of their group of friends. Fortunately, Amy’s not like them. Jamie wouldn’t have stayed friends with her if she was.”
Jordan believes him. He sees the care, the thoughtfulness in Amy. He just wishes he knew more about that other side of Jamie.
“You haven’t brought him up much lately,” Denz points out. “Jamie.”
“Haven’t I?”
Jordan knows he hasn’t. Purposefully.
“I was worried you two weren’t cool anymore.”
Jordan laughs nervously. “Nothing like that.” He picks at his sandwich bun. “The thing is—”
He has no clue what the thing is. Just like he didn’t when Denz figured out there was maybe, possibly a small chance Jamie and Jordan liked each other last year.
Jordan was careless at Uncle Kenny’s retirement party. He had one too many drinks that night. Smiled one too many times in Jamie’s direction. Denz is no Hercule Poirot, but he put the clues together. Not that there was anything scandalous happening between them.
So Jordan invited Jamie to a basketball game after Valentine’s Day.
Okay, and they had drinks together at one of Jamie’s bars.
Fine, there were also occasional breakfasts where Jordan was caught between laughing and staring at Jamie with this indescribable fascination.
Maybe they even took quiet walks together for no reason other than the weather was nice.
Jordan liked being around someone other than family and colleagues.
There was nothing to Jamie sitting close to him. Putting the occasional arm around Jordan’s shoulder. A foot pressed to the inside of Jordan’s for a beat longer than normal.
It never went beyond that.
It was never … romantic.
Was it?
“Jordan?”
On screen, Denz has this look. It’s not cautious. Like Jordan’s one more question away from a full-on “cut all my hair off and move to Wales to herd sheep” meltdown—though he might be.
Denz’s expression is endearing.
“Everything’s fine,” Jordan says. “We’re cool?”
He wishes it didn’t come out like a question. He wishes he was more confident.
“Cool,” Denz says.
“Did he, uh—” Jordan swallows around nothing. His sandwich sits half eaten on the paper. “Did Jamie say something?”
“I haven’t asked him about it.” A beam of sunlight falls over Denz’s smile. “I don’t need to ask him.”
Jordan hates how cryptic that sounds. And Denz never gets a chance to elaborate. In the background, Braylon shouts again. It’s more noise than words. Enough for Denz to jump to his feet.
“Fuck! I thought I had time to hide that.”
“Should I be concerned?” Jordan says warily.
“No. Probably not? Braylon’s harmless. But I should go check. Just in case.” He looks at the screen. “Hey.”
There’s something behind that one syllable that makes Jordan sit up straighter.
“If you need to talk, I’m here. And if you don’t, I’m here. No rush for any of this, Jordan.”
Jordan knows exactly what “any of this” is. He’s grateful Denz doesn’t label it. That he doesn’t force Jordan to label himself.
“Thanks,” he says.
Denz grins, rubbing a hand over his short blond curls. Which reminds Jordan …
“Does Auntie Eva know about your hair yet?”
Denz lifts his chin defiantly. “She and Uncle Orlando are in Turks and Caicos. No Wi-Fi for ten days.”
“I can’t wait to be the first to tell her.”
Denz promptly hangs up on him.