Page 164 of Last First Kiss

Then he almost falls over when Jamie jerks backward. Jordan blinks, swallows. He stares as Jamie’s face freefalls into a deep frown.

“Oh,” Jordan says for lack of anything better. “Uh—”

“Jordan.”

It comes out slow, weak, almost disappointed. As if Jordan missed something. Missed a lot of things, actually.

“I—” Jordan’s voice fails. Everything is crisscrossed, plugged into the wrong port, malfunctioning. “Sorry?”

Jamie grimaces. He glances at his phone, then Jordan again. So many times before, Jordan’s absently counted all the colors in Jamie’s eyes. Vibrant, electric, brilliant shades of emerald and cedar. Now, he only sees a sad brown.

“I didn’t mean to—did I…”

Get it wrong?sits in the air between them.

Embarrassment churns nauseously inside Jordan’s sternum. Of course he got it wrong. He just tried tokiss Jamie. And Jamie backed up like Jordan was a fucking velociraptor waiting to claw his insides out. Like Jordan couldn’t possibly have gotten it so wrong in his entire life.

He wants to puke. Or run away.

He does neither.

A sigh shivers through Jamie’s shoulders. He shakes his head. “Maybe we shouldn’t. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” He looks at his phone again. “You’re still figuring yourself out and I—I don’t think I’m the right person for that.”

When Jamie looks at him, Jordan’s frozen.

“For you,” Jamie adds, “while you’re on this journey.”

Jordan forces his expression into something neutral, unreadable.

This journey.

It stings like ice water to the face. And all Jordan hears is the question Jamie asked him months ago:

Do you think you’re queer?

Jordan didn’t know. Hestilldoesn’t know. But Jamie was cool with that. He’s always been cool with that. Until this very moment.

Silent seconds slip by. Jordan has no clue what words meananymore. Jamie holds his gaze for a long time before carelessly dragging a hand through his hair, swearing quietly.

“I don’t want this to be awkward,” he says, pained. “I want to be your friend. Jordan,please. I need—” He smiles weakly. “I always want you around.”

Jordan finally finds his words: “As a friend.”

“Asmyfriend.”

Jordan nods, over and over. That’s what they’ve been, right? Since they were teens. Since that first text on Valentine’s all the way until now.

Friends.

Somewhere nearby, a countdown starts. Voices shout. People are vacating the lawn to get closer to the square’s center.

Jordan stays put. Jamie does too. He says, “Are you okay?”

It’s a silly question. Fucking ridiculous. Because Jordan doesn’t let things like this get to him. Ever. Not since he was a kid.

“Jordan, please,” Jamie says again. “I don’t want this to be awkward.”

That makes Jordan laugh. Full, loud, stomach aching.