Although if I was honest, everything I’d once convinced my starry-eyed teenage self I’d felt for Jordan was exactly what I kept looking for and not finding when I asked guys out now... and that reallywasridiculous, given that it had only ever existed in my own head in the first place.
Still, as soon as I finished feeding Ellen and finally got Lizzie off the phone, I couldn’t resist restarting the video I’d paused. I hadn’t seen Jordan since he’d graduated, and watching him hop around and shake his ass on the small screen made me feel like I’d been stuck in the desert for all those years, but now had finally found water.
Cold, clear, sparkling,mouthwateringwater.
I palmed myself, no more able to control my cock’s reaction to him then I would have been able to stop myself from grabbing that metaphorical water and guzzling it until I choked on it.
On screen, Jordan was just finishing the workout he’d been doing, and I couldn’t look away as he mopped his face and smirked at the camera, rattling off a bunch of well-rehearsed-sounding patter asking me to click, like, comment, and subscribe to something.
God, he was beautiful, and the way those bottomless dark eyes held mine as he signed off… maybe itwasa sign.
“Oh God, I really am a dork,” I told Ellen.
She ignored me, face buried in her food dish and tail flicking in irritation at the interruption. But still, how could I ever say no when Jordan asked me for something?
And fine, he hadn't really asked “me,” and I certainly didn’t expect anything more to come of having him in my life, so to speak, this time around than it had back when we’d been in high school. He was still a little too beautiful to seem real and totally out of reach, even if we had both ended up living in the same city, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to… what was it he’d asked me to do? Click, like, and subscribe?
After all, one of my most frequently recurring fantasies, one that popped up even more often than visions of that gravity-defying ass of his, had always been that Jordan would ask me for something, and I’d give it to him. That he’d realize I was exactly what he needed, that I could take care of him better than anyone else ever could, and then—before he even knew what had hit him—I’d have swept him right off his feet and straight into our own picture-perfect happily ever after.
And okay, maybe subscribing to his video channel in response to a totally generic and universal “ask” wasn’t exactly the same thing—and following people on the internet definitely wasn’t my usual style—but for Jordan? I mean, come on. With the chance to fulfill even a tiny fraction of one of my lifelong Jordan-Wendt fantasies at hand, how could I possibly resist?
2
Jordan
My face was doneand Dev was supposed to be here to start filming any minute, but I could hear Paulo banging around out in the living room, so I kept fucking with my brows in the hope that he’d leave before I had to come out of the bathroom. Dealing with a pissed off roommate was not what I needed before going on camera, and while I had no idea what I’d fucked up this time, after living together for eleven months, I was familiar with the signs.
Actually, after managing to fuck up most things in life for the past twenty-five years, I could vouch for the fact that banging cabinets and stomping angrily around the apartment wereuniversalsigns, and when they shifted into deliberate footsteps coming my way, my stomach tensed up.
Ihatedconfrontation, and if I’d ever had any doubts about avoiding shit like boyfriends and relationships, the fact that disappointing this random dude I’d answered a roommate ad for on Craigslist could make me feel like I was about to puke was all the proof I needed that I’d never be cut out for it.
Paulo rapped sharply on the door.
“Jordan,” he said in that rolling accent that would’ve been sexy as fuck if it hadn’t so often been dripping with disappointment or outright anger when it was directed at me. “Can you come out here please?”
I closed my eyes and did two rounds of that hippie breathing shit Nichol had gotten hooked on after she'd moved out to the west coast, but it did precisely jack for calming me down.
Paulo knocked on the door again.
The world would be a much easier place ifeveryonejust avoided confrontation, you know? But then again, if Paolo and I had both been like that, we’d probably have other problems... like the power getting shut off when I forgot to pay my half of the bill and whatnot.
One more deep breath and then I put my go-face on and opened the door.
“’Sup, Paulo?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and grinning at him as I leaned against the door jamb in exactly the pose that would make my arms pop the most. I mean, dude was straight, but it never hurt to put your best foot forward, right? And everyone liked you better when you smiled.
Paolo didn’t smile back, though, just thrust a piece of paper at me with a bunch of words printed on it.
“What thefuckisthis?” he asked, his voice tight and angry. “Unable to deliver? I specifically asked you to be here to sign for this, Jordan. It was important.”
He fluttered the paper at me, so I took it, but no way could I muddle through all that writing with him in my face like this. I still frowned down at it like I was taking in all the details, though, just to keep him happy. Well, less unhappy, at least. The logo was easy—FedEx—and he’d said sign for something, so… okay, not rocket science to figure out the general idea of what I’d messed up this time. Still, I didn’t remember him asking me for shit.
“When did you mention it?” I asked, looking up and instantly realizing my mistake when he looked even more pissed.
Guess that wasn’t the point.
“I left you a note,” he practically shouted. “Yesterday,corno. Taped right on the blender so you would see it when you made that horrible protein thing you drink in the morning.”
Then he lapsed into a bunch of Portuguese that meant nothing to me, waving his hands around a lot, and I reached up to fuck with one of my earrings, feeling like dirt while he got it off his chest.
