And just like that, the glass wall between us shatters. Jordan’s lips are on mine, and this is nothing like the pantry kiss. His hands thread into my hair, pulling me into him as I wrap my arms around his back. His mouth is confident yet urgent against mine, as if seven years of lost moments like these are suddenly finding their way back to us.
For years, I’ve wondered what it would feel like to kiss Jordan. Would it be weird to kiss my best friend? Would our physical chemistry be as good as our emotional chemistry?
Jordan’s arms drop to encircle my waist as he pulls me closer. He deepens the kiss, and my body melts into his. Let’s just say I should never have questioned our physical chemistry.
A full-blown Fourth of July fireworks show is going off in my chest. With every kiss, I’m tapping deeper into parts of Jordan than I’ve ever known before. Everything that Jordan is, his warmth, his playfulness, his addictive energy, his strength—it all surrounds me like a blanket, one that I want to stay curled in forever. This is so much more than I could have imagined. In his arms, I feel safe, wanted, whole.
The catchy tune of Michael Jackson’s “Bad” breaks through the moment, and Jordan and I instantly jolt apart from one another. It’s too close to be coming from inside the Gala, which means that either that song is Jordan’s new ringtone or someone else is out here with us.
Jordan looks down at me with a question in his eyes and a smile on his lips. “Did you change your ringtone?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “‘Bad’? Really, Jordan?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? That’s your song.”
I pinch him in the side, and he laughs.
We start looking around the terrace that, until this moment, we thought was empty, when we see a wide-eyed teenage boy blinking back at us from the shadows of the alcove. His tall, wiry frame hesitantly steps out from the darkened corner as he silences his phone and shoves it into his wrinkled suit pocket.
“I’m so sorry.” His voice cracks as he takes a reluctant step toward us. “I promise… I… I wasn’t creeping on you.” The boy is a deer in headlights. “I was waiting out here for a friend to call me because the service inside is terrible. I thought you guys saw me here, but then you started, you know...um, kissing. Then I realized you probably didn’t see me. I thought about leaving, but then I was like, ‘No, Trevor, that will be way more awkward if they see you now.’ So then I thought I’d wait you out, but then…”
“Trevor,” Jordan says, cutting off the poor boy’s monologue.
At some point in the kid’s nervous rambles, I shove my face into Jordan’s chest and pull his suit coat around my head, laughing so hard I can’t stop.
“Um. Yeah?” Trevor stammers.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” Jordan says. “But she just can’t resist this.”
“Jordan,” I chide.
Poor kid. I can’t see him right now because I’m locked inside my Jordan cocoon as tears of laughter trail down my cheeks, but if I could see him, I think his legs would literally be knocking together in sheer horror.
“Sorry for the show. But if you’re interested, you can always stick around for the sequel,” Jordan says.
I pop my head out of Jordan’s suit coat. “No, Trevor. You can go,” I say, barely holding onto a straight face.
The boy shuffles forward, not quite making it around us.
“On second thought.” Jordan smiles down at me. “Make it a trilogy.”
Without hesitation, the boy bolts for the doors, and disappears into the building.
I feel Jordan’s chest rumble against me as he starts laughing.
“You terrified him. He’s probably scarred for life.”
“Nah, he’sbad. He’ll tough it out.”
I laugh at Jordan’s reference to the boy’s ringtone.
“In fact, Trevor did me a favor. The whole time we were kissing, I thought, ‘You know what would complete this moment? The King of Pop.’ Trevor delivered. I’ll tip him when I get inside.”
I swat his arm, but my smile is beaming. Jordan and I may have broken physical barriers tonight, but he’s still his cheeky self around me. I love that almost as much as I love how Jordan’s resistance to us is not evident on his face anymore. A small partof me wonders if it could be temporary, but when Jordan’s lips find mine again, I allow myself to hope as he carefully pulls me into him. This time, his kisses are light and delicate, but each graze of his mouth against mine sends a blazing fire through me.
Eventually, another couple enters the terrace, and we break apart to avoid another Trevor situation.
“Well, Paige Devons, I think this terrace has an expiration date,” Jordan says, still a breath away from me.
