Jordan
I’ve had too much time to think. It’s what I do. I start nitpicking. I overanalyze.
And now I’m nervous and not in a good way.
I’m anxious.
My thoughts are too loud.
I’m about ready to lose my shit.
There’s a restaurant where we agreed to meet. I do my best not to head out the door too early. I don’t want to sit there by myself and marinate in my own thoughts.
“Heading out for a bit, kiddo,” I tell Theo on my way downstairs. He and Dog are rolling around on Theo’s floor, playing with a tennis ball.
He looks up, smiling widely on his face while Dog tries to lick his face.
“Dude,” he tells Dog with a laugh, pushing his nose away. “Where you going?”
“Just meeting up with Milán. Grabbing a bite.”
“Okay.” He laughs when Dog stuffs his head between Theo’s body and forearm.
I’m still smiling as I jog down the stairs, while I throw on my coat and boots, while I go out the door, and when I start walking down the street.
There’s an excited flutter in my chest. The just right feeling has settled inside me again. There’s a lot that’s scary and uncertain here, but when it comes down to the basics, the thought of seeing him soon is just right. I’m excited in a simple, straightforward way.
I hum under my breath as I walk to keep this feeling on the forefront of my mind and not ruin it.
The sudden feel of somebody’s hand on my shoulder makes me snap my head up.
Wings multiply in my chest when I find myself face-to-face with Milán.
My stomach jolts.
“Hi,” I say.
He smiles. “You were in another world. I called your name a few times.”
“I thought we were meeting at the restaurant.” I frown. “Did I mess up?”
“No. No. I…” He looks adorably bashful all of a sudden.
“I thought I would come and pick you up. Sort of like a—” He clamps his mouth shut and doesn’t finish whatever he was about to say.
Instead, he clears his throat. “Rory said I had to change because I looked like a Mormon tax auditor, and my brother tried to burn the kitchen down, so I had to change and make sure Rory was safe, and I messed up the timing a bit.”
I blink and try to fight off a smile. “That was a lot of information to digest all at once.”
“Yeah,” he breathes out, eyes moving up and down me with ravenous speed as he takes a step closer. I’ve never been so blatantly wanted before.
We’re standing close together, his eyes searching mine. His hand goes to the back of my head, and he kisses me. His warm lips are on mine, and everything narrows to him. Us.
This is a lot.
It’s a lot.
And I’m aware there’s so much that could go wrong. There are so many ways things can get messy and uncomfortable. I usually avoid that. I usually play it safe.
Right now, I almost don’t care.
I’m closer to throwing caution to the wind than I’ve ever been. At least, I want to. I haven’t before, but I really want to.
I’m a careful rebel.
He pulls back and studies me, an alert look in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have. But I couldn’t help myself.”
I lick my lips.
“Me neither,” I admit.
“Too much?”
“Not nearly enough.”
Barely enough.
I want to maul you.
I’m moving too fast for myself.
Somehow, he feels it. Somehow, he knows.
“Dinner,” he says.
We head for the restaurant, and he tells me about his day. The easy conversation is a stark contrast to the long looks he sends me. I feel his eyes on me. I hope he likes what he sees. It’s a new dimension to the foundation of our friendship.
Am I his type? What is his type?
We get to the restaurant, and I shrug off my coat.
He’s in a white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up casually, exposing his tanned forearms, and a pair of dark blue pants that look like they’ve been tailored specifically to show off every inch of his lean frame.
I’m underdressed in my black jeans and black polo sweater, but when I look up and meet his gaze, my stomach swoops. He’s staring, and I can feel the intensity of that look in my bones.
“You look edible,” he says.
I bark out a laugh.
“First time anyone’s ever said that to me.” I sound breathless. I’m tempted to be embarrassed, but he, in turn, looks breathless, so we’re on a level playing field.
The hostess leads us to our table, which is mostly hidden from view in a small nook that gives us privacy in an otherwise crowded restaurant.
We take our seats, and for all that it’s been easy to talk to him so far—easier than with anybody else in almost my whole life—my head is suddenly empty, and I don’t know what to say.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“Trying to decide whether I should make an ass out of myself by trying to flirt or make an ass out of myself by ruining the mood with my nerves.”
“I vote flirt.” He tilts his head. “But let’s get the nerves out of the way first. Why are you nervous?”
The waitress comes over, hands us the menus, and provides me with a much-needed moment to gather my thoughts. When she walks away, I meet Milán’s gaze again.
“I like you,” I say. “This is not about me freaking out or coming to my senses and brushing this off as a moment of insanity. It’s definitely not that.”
“What is it, then?”
“There’s a certain sense of déjà vu here.”
He waits.
“As in, I’ve dated my best friend before,” I say. “It didn’t end that well, and…”
He looks calm, but there’s caution in his body language now.
I drag my hand through my hair. “Not that we’re dating.
I’m not jumping the gun here. We’re just…
whatever. I don’t want to hurt you. Or myself.
And I don’t want you to think I’m moving too fast. It’s not that.
For crying out loud, we haven’t decided anything.
Or discussed anything. Believe me, I’m not making plans that neither of us is ready for or signed up for or—”
I press my lips together to stop myself from going even more off the rails.
“It’s not uncharted territory for me, is what I’m saying.
It’s like… I want to be here. I’m into you.
But there’s also this feeling that I’ve…
” I shrug. “I’ve been here before, I know the ending and didn’t like it, and it makes me nervous. ”
He studies me for a long moment. Long enough for the waitress to bring us a carafe of water and for Milán to smile at her and tell her we need another minute.
“Would you rather put an end to whatever this is right now?” he asks. “Be just two friends grabbing a bite to eat? Go on as we used to?”
I shake my head, slowly but firmly.
“No.” I give a helpless shrug and an even more helpless smile. “It’s too late for that. Besides, I wouldn’t know how to pretend that well.”
He nods. “Okay. Then here’s the plan. We’ll order food. They have a peppercorn steak that’s kind of famous here. And we will keep our hands off each other and talk.”
I want to kiss him again.
He’s so calm. Usually that’s my role, so this here is a novelty. There’s somebody to lean on because we’re in this together. It’s not just me trying to figure things out.
I’m not alone in this.
We place our orders when the waitress comes back. Milán tracks her with an absent look on his face as she walks away, but I don’t think he’s really even seeing her. He turns back to meet my gaze, and there’s such intensity in his eyes that it makes my skin prickle.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says. “A lot. So here’s what I have. This is a terrible idea. Reckless and stupid. All of this is to say, it’s right up my alley. I wouldn’t expect anything else from me. This has all the necessary components to get really fucking messy.”
It’s a strange feeling, wanting something—someone—this badly and at the same time being perfectly aware and pointing out to myself everything that could go wrong like I’m trying to talk myself out of it, but still desperately hoping it doesn’t work.
“Yeah.” I roll my eyes. Intelligent input.
What if he says we shouldn’t do anything?
While I’m sitting here, each kiss we’ve shared so far seared into my brain, playing on a constant loop.
Because kissing him has flipped something inside me.
It’s like randomly glancing out a window you’ve looked out of thousands of times and discovering the view has changed since the last time, and you’re trying to figure out how that even happened while also being intensely curious about those new surroundings of yours.
And I’m scared shitless, because when was the last time I tried to navigate a new reality? When Theo was born. Fourteen years ago. It’s a lifetime.
With so much uncertainty about what I’m doing, it’s really fucking unfair to involve him in this at all. An asshole move if there ever was one.
What was I thinking?
Well, clearly I wasn’t. This is what I get for not planning ahead. Not thinking things through. I just saw him smelling my clothes and something inside me snapped, and now it’s too late to stuff that genie back into the bottle.
I’ve screwed us both over.
Can’t go back.
Don’t know what happens next.
Holding back feels impossible.
Giving in will make things unimaginably complicated.
What do I want? Anything. Everything.
What does he want?
Me.
That much we’ve settled on.
It’s a relief, but it’s also terrifying.
This is uncharted territory for me and a thoroughly explored one for him. The only dick I’m acquainted with is mine. What do I bring to the table other than some fumbling attempts at exploration?
I’ve been straight my whole life. What if I’m no good at being not-so-straight?
What the hell do I have to offer? Because he damn sure deserves more than me trying to figure out what makes my dick hard.
“I can feel you thinking,” he says with a small smile. “I can feel you thinking so hard it’s exhausting me, so I can’t even begin to imagine what it must feel like inside your head.”
“You know that moment when you have a big essay or project or something due at school?”
Amazingly, he doesn’t look at me like I’ve gone crazy. He just smiles and nods.
“But you left starting it until the very last minute,” I say.