So far he hasn’t disliked anything, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s just being nice, or if I am not that bad at cooking as I thought. Let’s be serious though, Jordan isn’t just being nice. That’s not who he is.
Our nights are comfortable. We aren’t in each other’s business, but he’s never too far away, and I like that.It’s nice having someone around who isn’t a bother, but there when you need.
I bring the blanket up to my nose, breathing it in. It smells like him. Like vetiver and alpine, and the faintest hint of sweat.
That’s probably me, though.
I move the blanket off me just a hair, my fingers sliding over the soft fabric. I must have fallen asleep watching the highlights after the game. They always bore the shit out of me, but I never say anything because Jordan likes them. And I like doing things he likes because he’s more relaxed. Nicer.
His bedroom door is open, but it doesn’t look like he’s inside. A quick glance around the room, and I don’t see him.
“Mack?” I call out. No answer.
I throw the covers off me completely, the cool air kissing my skin. I get up and hobble down the hall to the bathroom. No Mack.
I check the other rooms—which are mostly empty save for some boxes and sparse furniture, as if he’s never fully unpacked his stuff—no sign of him.
Shit.
“Jordan!” I call out, but there’s no answer. Then I hear it, the sound of an engine—a sputtering engine. Rain patters on the roof, and something feels off.
It takes me longer than it should to put on a pair of sweatpants and head outside. The screen door creaks as I step onto the porch and nearly stop breathing. There, in the rain, clothes drenched and kicking the tire of his truck, is Jordan fucking Mackenzie looking like something straight out of my wildest dreams. The flood light is on and bright, lighting up most of the driveway.
“Fucking hell!” he gripes as he kicks the tire again, his hands braced against the side of the truck, his head hanging low, dark hair hanging in his face.
I don’t think, I just descend the steps, out into the rain.
“What the fuck are you doing out here, Jordan? It’s one thirty in the morning.”
His body tenses as he looks at me from underneath his thick lashes. Rain drops cling to them and his dark, matted hair.
“Go back to sleep, Alex,” he snaps.“No,” I say. He shakes his head, slamming his fist against the side of the truck with a grunt. “Not until you tell me why you’re out here, yelling at your truck like a damn idiot.”
He laughs bitterly, shaking his head.
“It doesn’t matter.” He turns away, his shirt clinging to his chest, showing every dip and curve.
I should leave him alone. Whatever he’s dealing with is his business, and I should respect that. I’m a guest, here, after all. Maybe he’s fighting with his girlfriend,and though I’m worried about him, I don’t want to hear about them together. But I can’t walk away.
“It matters to me,” I say, taking a step forward. Mack falls against his car, staring up at the sky and letting the rain fall down over his face.
“Don’t fucking say shit like that, Alex,” he says softly.
The rain is coming down hard and loud. I take another step forward, until I’m right in front of him.
“Why not?” I ask. “It’s the truth.”
He looks down at me, his amber eyes searching mine for something I can’t quite place.
The rain falls around us steadily.
I think he’s going to tell me to fuck right off, but he doesn’t. His gaze drifts from my eyes to my mouth before he closes his eyes and turns away.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he finally says.
I grab him by the chin, forcing his face to me. His amber eyes meet mine as he frowns.
“Did you try counting sheep?” I ask.
