"I'd love it! But don't you havetowork?"
"Don't worry about it. I'll arrange for the time off. Mind if I sleep over tonight?" Jordanasked.
"Of course not! My parents would love toseeyou."
PresentDay
Jordan didn't tell anyone she was homeless, not even Lucky. She knew she should open up more and tell Lucky what was going on, but she didn't want to talk about it. She could pretend she had a normal life if she didn't have to talk about it. Talking made the bad stuff too real. Lucky wouldn't understand, her life was different. Her parents cared and called hereveryday.
"That's what happens when someone loves you, they make sure you're okay," she said toherself.
Jordan left her mother's house three weeks ago and still hadn't heard from them. She considered reaching out to her father, but her mother made sure she never had a relationship with him, so she didn't know what to expect. Not that her father was bad, she just didn'tknowhim.
She picked up the phone and called roomservice.
"Hi, how long would it take to get food delivered to my room?" sheasked.
"We're a bit shorthanded right now, so at least two hours. I suggest you head to the restaurant, they'restillopen."
"Okay,thanks."
Grabbing her room key, wallet, and cell phone, she thought about texting Lucky back but didn't see the point in it. She was glad she was getting out. Lucky deserved it after working so hard. She couldn't help feeling neglected though, she was raisedthatway.
Dressed in skinny jeans, a pair of Uggs, and an oversized dark purple t-shirt, she slipped into the elevator and hit the lobby button. As the elevator doors closed, she saw Dylan, his light brown hair covering his face as he ran towards theelevator.
"Hold theelevator!"
She hit the door open button. As the doors retracted, Dylan entered the elevator and leaned against the back wall as he caught his breath. Taking a side glance at him, Jordan reminded herself not to drool. He was that hot. He swept his shoulder-length hair back from his face, revealing the light scruff of a goatee and blue tintedsunglasses.
She appreciated the unique appearance of his black jeans, maroon striped button-down shirt, black vest, and the blue scarf casually draped around his neck. On anyone else the combination would have looked ridiculous, but on Dylan, it made him look even more like arockstar.
"You getting something to eat?" Dylanasked.
Startled by the question, Jordan didn't reply right away. She took a moment to secretly pinch herself to make sure she really wasawake.
"Umm yes, I am. Whataboutyou?"
"Yup. Damned room service takes too long." He smiled at her. "Want tojoinme?"
Jordan smiled and nodded, unsure what else to say. The elevator started its descent and she caught Dylan lookingather.
"What is it?" sheasked.
He grinned at her, his face angled down at the floor as his eyes looked overtoher.
"I have a confession to make," he said. "I knew you would call room service so I told them to give you a long wait time and then to suggest the restaurant. They called me so I knew, or hoped, that you were going downthere."
"Forreal?Why?"
"Because I wanted to get to know you better,"hesaid.
Exiting the elevator, he put his hand on her back, between her shoulders, his fingers resting on the bare skin of her neck. The heat of his hand on her bare skin traveled through her body, and it gave her tiny chills up and down herspine.
The restaurant was a mixture of wood molding and tall windows which reflected back the glamour of the large room. With only two tables taken, the maître d' could have seated them anywhere but chose to place them in a secludedcorner.
As they walked to their table, they passed a long, glossy wooden bar with mirrors behind the bottles. Paul, the band's drummer, sat at the end of the bar drinking with his head hung low and a cigarette burning between his fingers despite the hotel being non-smoking.
Jordan sat back and gave Dylan a suspicious look. She eyed the wait staff, who looked ready to pounce at any request, then noticed the maître d' slip what looked like cash into hispocket.
