You aren’t good enough for her.
My mind doesn’t lie. But in my opinion no one is. No one will ever be good enough for Jordan. Why can’t I be the one that tries to be?
I know I’m staring at her. My eyes are moving between hers and her lips while hers do the same. Up. Down. Up. Down. Her chest follows the same motion, rising and falling, gaining momentum with each breath she takes.
We can figure this shit out. We can talk to Nate, explain everything. He’s a logical, level-headed guy. He knows I’d never do anything to hurt her. He knows I’d protect her at all cost. He has to know that if I’m willing to even entertain this crazy fucking idea that I must mean it.
“Fuck it,” I mumble.
Reaching across her, I sink my fingers into her hair, pulling her towards me. I don’t have to pull hard; she’s moving on her own, closing the distance between us. Our lips touch, melting and molding together while her hands find purchase in my shirt. Herlips are pliable and desperate. Needy. She wants this as badly as I do.
I need to remember we’re in a very public place on a very public plane. It doesn’t stop me from nipping at her bottom lip as I start to pull away, eliciting a soft gasp from her. When her eyes flutter open, she looks a little dazed. It reminds me of the first time I kissed her at the top of the Eiffel Tower.
A memory that will live with me forever no matter what happens between us, because I realize that I’m not the only one that has an opinion on whether we give this an actual try. Jordan could very well turn me down if I put myself out there.
But that kiss. Even if it was short lived, and very public, it told me that it’s a risk I need to take.
“After last night I’m too sleep deprived to understand what that was,” she whispers to me, blinking furiously to clear some of the fog from her brain.
Now isn’t the time or place to discuss my plans with her. Not with Paul sitting in front of us. Not with a bunch of strangers and friends surrounding us. It needs to wait.
So I just shrug, giving her the grin I know she loves. “We’ll figure it out.”
Her eyes narrow at me, trying to figure out what I mean, but she doesn’t say a word. Instead she pulls her phone out of her pocket, opens it up, and bites her lip as she reads a text before turning it towards me.
Hailey: That sure as hell didn’t look fake to me. W.T.F?!?!
Glancing over at Hailey and Luke, I shrug nonchalantly, thumbing the seat in front of me like Paul should explain my actions. The problem with that is I haven’t kissed Jordan in frontof anyone all weekend. With us fake dating, that would have been going a step too far. Which means I just let the cat out of the bag.
Jordan’s phone vibrates in her hand, and I glance down at it since she’s still got it angled towards me, both of us reading at the same time.
Hailey: Do not tell me friends kiss friends like that. They don’t.
Hailey: Does Nate know??
Hailey: If he doesn’t know, I need you to take that kiss back.
“Miss, is that on airplane mode?” One of the flight attendants stops in the aisle between Luke and me, her attention on Hailey. “We’re about to take off and mobile devices need to be in airplane mode now.”
Before the flight attendant can say anything to Jordan, she puts her phone on flight mode and slips it into her pocket. The change in her is immediate. She leans away from me, wrapping her arms around her midsection. She won’t meet my eyes.
As much as I want to reach over and either pull her into my arms, or pull her arms away from her, I need to respect the boundaries she’s putting up. I can sense the chaos that Hailey just set into motion in her head, and I don’t want to spook her any further by doing something she obviously doesn’t want me to.
But fuck, it kills me to not do it. Not to hug her and tell her everything is going to be okay. Even if they know, it’s going to be okay. Even if they tell Nate—they wouldn’t—it’s going to be okay. Even if he’s upset, it’s going to be okay. But am I glad he’s on a plane to Hawaii? Yes, I am.
Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I go to open my music app but pause before selecting it. Changing course, I go into my notes app, open a new one, and type out a message.
Whatever is going on in that beautiful brain of yours, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.
I may not be able to embrace her, but I have no qualms about tapping her on the shoulder. When she turns to me with a sigh, her eyes devoid of anything but exhaustion, I turn my phone for her to read my message.
For a second I think she might smile. The corners of her lips twitch, but it falters and peters out before anything comes of it.
“Just tired,” she mumbles.
There’s more to it and we both know it. Putting a finger up for her to wait, I write her a new note and turn my phone back to her.
Shoulder?
