Chapter 24
Shelley
Jordan: I’m going to have to mark this assignment incomplete. None of these are fantasies. This is a tiny list of the three most basic positions known to humans.
My cheeks heat as I read Jordan’s text. He read my email then. Missing him and feeling bold last night, I decided to follow through with his suggestion to send my fantasies. I thought it would be sexy, but now it feels a little humiliating.
Me: Maybe I misunderstood? Apparently, I’m not a good student.
Jordan: Sorry, Law School, I’m not buying that one at all.
Me: Ugh. I need an example, then. What exactly are you looking for with this “assignment?” And you didn’t even send yours yet. Why am I the only one being vulnerable?
Jordan: I didn’t realize you were really going to do it so quickly. I thought I still had a few days. But fair enough. You write out a more detailed scene, and I’ll write one, too. Try to be specific. We’ll send them to each other by midnight. Deal?
Midnight tonight? Six hours from now, I could have a detailed description of Jordan’s fantasies in my inbox? I let him sweat it out a few minutes before responding.
Me: Those terms are agreeable.
Jordan: It’s hot when you put on your courtroom voice, Counselor.
I’m still smiling while I send an eyeroll emoji.
Me: Save the role play for your scene. Get to writing.
Jordan: Yes, ma’am.
Turning to my computer, I start typing. Midnight can’t come fast enough. The words fly out of me, and it doesn’t take me long to finish my story and hit send.
At eleven-forty-two, I get his email. Not that I’ve been obsessively checking, and not that I set notifications and a specific sound alert for everything that comes through from his account or anything.
I think it would be cool to come home to someone wearing my jersey, and nothing else. Maybe we eat a meal or play a game. Then they sit on my lap and things get heated.
Three sentences? His fantasy email contains exactly three sentences, and they aren’t even long ones.
I, on the other hand, wrote a two-thousand-word short story.
He’s going to think I’m too much. That is, if he even responds at all.
What if I scare him off with my over-eager intensity?
I must admit, I do like the idea of wearing his jersey and sitting on his lap, though.
My phone buzzes with a new text.
Jordan: Are you awake? Is it okay to call?
I send a thumbs up and a smiley face, and only a few seconds pass before my phone rings. Neither of us bothers to say hello.
“Wow. That was…descriptive,” he says.
“I’m so embarrassed. I thought you wanted me to go into detail?”
“I’m glad you did. I think I learned some things about myself from reading this.
” He laughs, and that warm feeling floods my chest again and eases my nerves.
Talking to Jordan feels like sipping on spiced apple cider while I sit by a fire, wrapped in my favorite blanket.
He’s warm, and cozy, and familiar. Fun, but in a safe, comfortable way. Which is my favorite kind of fun.
“I think you officially know more about me than anyone else ever has,” I tell him, truthfully.
“I’m honored.”
There’s a long beat of silence, but it isn’t unwelcome. I assume we’re both thinking about my email. I know I am.
A big part of me regrets getting so specific, but an even bigger part is secretly thrilled with the idea that Jordan read those thoughts, and he wasn’t turned off. He’s still here. I haven’t scared him away. If anything, he seems accepting. Maybe even a little bit intrigued.
“Are you going to tell me what you learned?” I ask, coyly. There’s no point in holding back now. It’s open flirting season.
He hums into the phone, and I can practically feel the low vibration caress my skin. “I like the way you started your story at the beginning of a date, like you saw everything leading up to the physical stuff as foreplay.”
I’m not prepared for the way my whole body reacts when he says that word.
“Maybe you should read me your favorite parts.” Who even am I right now?
I don’t know, but Jordan seems to like this version of me because he chuckles and says, “Yeah? I can do that. But only if we get on a video call because I want to see your cheeks get all red when you get hot and bothered by your own words.”
On cue, I feel my face heat. It won’t be my words turning me on, it will be his voice reading them, but either way. “Deal.”
As soon as I hang up, a new video call from him comes through. My face is way too close to the camera, and the shaky video quality leaves much to be desired. On Jordan’s end, I can see his whole torso, and he’s sitting still in the center of the frame, with a paper in his hand.
“Did you actually print it out?” I’m as impressed as I am horrified by that idea.
“And do you have your phone on a tripod? Why do you own a tripod? Do you do these kinds of calls a lot?” A sharp pang of jealousy hits.
I really don’t like the idea of anyone else getting to be on a call like this with Jordan.
He waits patiently for me to finish my mini-interrogation before he answers. “My phone is propped up against a stack of books on a chair. But no more changing the subject. We’re here to discuss this brilliant piece.” He clears his throat and grabs a pair of reading glasses from the nightstand.
With his beard and now the glasses, he’s got a whole hot, nerdy professor vibe going on, and it’s really working for me.
When he starts to read, I hide my face behind my hands, peeking at him through the cracks in my fingers.
He looks straight into the camera and smiles.
“No hiding now, Sea Shell. You wrote this.” He waves the papers in his hand. “You’re going to own it.”
A huge cheesy grin spreads across my face at his use of my silly nickname. Even though I’m feeling slightly nauseated by the idea that Jordan Wagner is about to read my own spicy email back to me, I am undeniably excited at the prospect.
“I took the liberty of highlighting a few parts.”
“You did not.”
He raises his eyebrows and turns the paper toward the camera so I can see it. Sure enough, there are several lines marked with neon yellow ink. “I’m very studious when I want to be.” That smirk on his lips does delicious things to me.
His eyes return to the paper as he reads, “After a light dinner, where we both avoid gassy foods or anything that will give us bad breath and eat something light and safe, like turkey wraps... Practical. Okay, I’m with you.
We’ll do something fun like ice-skating or an arcade.
Then we’ll go to a neutral location, maybe a bougie hotel.
That way I don’t have to invite him to my place, but I also don’t have to worry about if he washed his sheets recently.
I’m down for an arcade. Making a note to wash my sheets as soon as we hang up. ”
I scrunch my nose, but I laugh. He reads through the rest of my email, stopping to discuss every minute detail and ask me questions as he stares into my soul with that intense eye contact of his, as if he truly is studying my response.
“The smell thing is really important to you, huh?”
“Is it not to you?”
“Honestly, I’ve never really thought about it. But I guess not. I’d still want you if your breath smelled like garlic.”
“Ew. Why?”
His voice is tender when he says, “Because you’re you.
” Then he continues reading. “He has a playlist of instrumental music because lyrics in songs can be really distracting to me. See? These are the things I need to know.” Jordan smiles and says, “I highlighted this next part. Ahem. When we get going, I’m on all fours and he touches me from behind, maybe while I use a toy on myself, too. ”
Yep, he was correct. My face must be a thousand degrees. I bring my hands up to cover my eyes, but Jordan tisks at me. “Uh-uh, no hiding. This is a masterpiece.”
“It may have been inspired by recent events,” I admit, lowering my hands.
“I was hoping you’d say that. Now, where was I?”
I never want this call to end, but eventually exhaustion hits and we’re both yawning and nodding off. As much as I would rather stay up with him all night, there’s been a lot of that lately, and my body is begging for sleep.
“Goodnight, Jordan.”
“Night, Sea Shell. Sweet dreams.”
There’s no doubt in my mind they will be now.