Oh God.
I’d tried to pretend it wasn’t a thing. Gwen had texted me a screenshot that morning. A grainy tabloid photo of me cheering in the players’ box.Jordan Taylor’s mystery blonde—courtside kiss sparks rumours,the caption read.
Jordan didn’t even blink. He just turned to me with a grin full of mischief.
“You mean this girl?” he asked, and before I could stop him, he tilted the camera and pulled me in under his arm.
“Jordan!” I hissed, my cheeks turning scarlet. But it was too late.
“Hi,” I said awkwardly to the screen, cheeks burning. “Sorry…I wasn’t expecting that.”
His mum beamed. “Oh, love, don’t worry. What a lovely surprise! Jordan, she’s far too pretty to be keeping from your old mum.”
He grinned even wider. “Yeah, sorry, Mum…this is Kate.”
“Well, Kate,” she said brightly, “it’s lovely to meet you, sweetheart. You must be the one keeping him in check, getting him out of his own head.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that…” I blushed.
I think he could sense I was a little overwhelmed, because he ended the call quickly, promising to ring her again tomorrow.
“Jordan,” I whispered, my cheeks still burning as he set his phone down, looking far too pleased with himself.
I stared at him in disbelief. “Did I seriously just meet your mother for the first time in your T-shirt with no makeup on?”
He raked his gaze down me slowly, clearly enjoying every second. “You look gorgeous.”
“Jordan,” I said for the third time, half exasperated, half giddy.
“Couldn’t help it,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around my waist. “You looked too damn cute stood there, drinking my coffee like you lived here.”
My stomach flipped. He didn’t even realise how that landed. Like a brick through a window. As if he had just said something I’d been too scared to even think.
“I…don’t,” I said, my cheeks flaming.
“Not yet,” he replied far too easily, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before I could fall apart.
I didn’t know what to do with that.Not yet. So I held my coffee tighter and tried not to smile too hard despite the urge.
By the time Jordan left for the club, it was nearly half past nine. He kissed me goodbye like we’d been doing this for years, hand at my jaw, lips lingering like he didn’t want to go, and then he was gone, and the flat felt too quiet without him.
I wandered around, tidying things that didn’t need tidying. Rewashed a mug. Opened a window. Watched the soft July haze settleacross the London skyline. My heart was still trying to catch up with the morning.
I’d woken up in his bed.
I’d met his mother.
I’d worn his T-shirt.
I’d heard the way she spoke to him—with warmth, pride, love that had nothing to do with headlines or trophies. Just him. Just Jordan. And it ached a little. I didn’t think I’d ever had that. Not really.
It still felt strange being in his flat alone all day. I might have been falling for him at warp speed, but I wasn’t daft. I didn’t want anyone to think I’d clawed my way into his life and set up camp.
I was about to get dressed and head back to Gwen’s when my phone buzzed.
Jordan:
Meet me down at the training court at 2. I need a favour. Don’t worry, it’s all good. J x
