“Matt was right.” She shrugged. “You need history so that mistakes are not repeated. You forget I’ve been down this road before. I was with a guy who didn’t know what he really wanted from me and I ended up being the other woman. I’m not doing that again.”
“You’re not the other woman, Jordan.” It was a low, unsteady whisper, but she heard him.
“Then what am I?” Tears filled her eyes. “How do you feel about me, Tyler?”
He ran his hand over his face. He couldn’t even keep eye contact anymore.
One step forward.
One step back.
She took one more deep breath to keep herself from crumbling. “Areyouready to talk tome?”
His jaw clenched and he stared at the ground.
“I didn’t think so.” She turned away and headed back towards the door.
“Jordan.”
She ignored the rather desperate sounding plea and walked inside, slumping against the door because she could barely keep herself up. Yeah, she could have gone through life without ever knowing that. It was confirmation she didn’t need, but now she had it.
See, this was the problem with declaring her love for Tyler. Every body part had opened up, made themselves vulnerable to him and after that less than mild rejection, it seemed like they were all trying to punish her for being so fucking stupid. Eyes produced so many tears, she choked on them. Throat closed up so tight, she was having trouble breathing. And her poor heart, the most wounded casualty. It felt like it collapsed, like it was trying to coil inside itself to escape all that hurt.
“Okay, Heart,” she blubbered through her tears, comforting it with a softthere, theretap against her chest. “Stop breaking. I’m gonna allow you one good cry over Tyler Evans…and then we’re gonna zip that shit up and move the fuck along.”
The (not so) Happy Holidays
Tyler stepped into the elevator with Matt and hit the button to travel up to the top floor. It was Christmas Eve and dinner with his dad was tradition. Matt was in an odd mood this evening, extremely quiet and slightly irritable. Tyler knew he needed about another half hour before he would be ready to talk about it.
Tyler wasn’t in the best of moods either. He hadn’t spoken to Jordan in the last few days. She wasn’t answering her phone. He’d gone over to see her yesterday, but her townhouse was deserted. He wanted to see her, but he knew that having another opportunity to speak to her wouldn’t have made a difference. He didn’t know what to say to make things right. All he knew was that he couldn’t say what she wanted him to say. She’d completely opened herself up to him and he couldn’t say one word back.
Those were the things break-ups were made of. It was a simple recipe. He was no master chef, but it was easy enough to figure out.
Take one stupid idea, add two fake dates and throw in a couple lies. Mix thoroughly and wait for that to simmer. Once the mixture is heated and starts to separate, add shame and regret in equal parts and chuck in some childish games. A sprinkle of hurt, a dash of jealousy, and just a tiny pinch of sabotage. A heaped teaspoon of ex-girlfriend drama always goes a long way, so be sure to throw that into the mix as well. Go easy on communication, though. It might spoil the batter. And then let it cook.
Now for the last step. This part is crucial, so pay attention. When tensions reach boiling point, pour on a thick layer of rejection. Tact should not be used in any way or form and don’t bother to sugar coat it. Doing so will completely ruin the bitter aftertaste. There. All done. Now sit back and enjoy the mess that has been created.
The recipe for disaster– tried, tested and perfected by Tyler Evans.
The elevator doors opened and they made their way down the corridor. Matt knocked once and a few seconds later the door opened.
The widest smile spread across his father’s face. “My boys!” He threw an arm around each of them and pulled them into a tight bear hug. He kissed one then the other and after another squeeze, he let them go.
“Hey, Pap,” Matt said.
“Hi, Dad.”
The door was barely closed behind them when Roscoe started scolding. “You boys haven’t come to see me in weeks.”
Tyler shrugged off his jacket. “Sorry, Dad. We’ve been a little busy.”
“Busy with what?”
“Well, I’ve been running the company,” Matthew answered. “Tyler’s been into some light stalking.”
Roscoe’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Anything I should be worried about?”
“Just a hobby,” Tyler assured him.
