Page 51 of Last First Kiss

Jordan wouldn’t want anything less for him.

So why is he so… angry?

Furious, actually. Because of one dance? Because Jordan let a silly, irrelevant moment between them distract him from his job? Because this isn’t the first time he allowed it to happen? Because, for a fleeting second, Jordan insertedhimselfinto that picture of happiness and love?

“Fuck you, Ed Sheeran,” he seethes quietly at his desk.

It’s Friday morning. Two days since visiting the Piedmont Conservatory. Two days since Amy and Sam picked the venue. Two days since he met Sloane. The woman Jamie’s been on a “few dates” with.

But he’s cool. Not at all pouting like a fussy toddler in need of a juice box.

He slurps on his mango-banana smoothie while scrolling through his updated wedding list. Work still needs to be done. Boxes checked.

Sadly, after a minute, Jordan’s eyes stray to his phone.He left Instagram open. Somehow, he found the profile for @xoxoslosmith.

Sloane’s account.

That counts as work, right?Research. He’s merely doing his due diligence to learn everything about the friends in Amy and Sam’s life.

Sloane’s grid is simple. Generic photos with family. Beach vacations and barbeques and Christmases in front of a lavish tree. She didn’t attend Brighton. Instead, she went to a private Catholic school in northeast Atlanta.

That means there’s no Amy-related content.

Jordan scrolls more.

He gets Sloane throwing her graduation cap in the air at UNC-Chapel Hill. Sloane on a hike, a tousled dark head and vaguely familiar broad shoulders walking in front of her. Sloane with Aspen’s snowy mountains in the background. Her parents andJamie’s parentsand Jamie himself. In the photo, his smile is half the size of the one Jordan’s accustomed to.

But he’s there. With her.

What did Jordan expect? Jamie made it clear where they stood. He’s not “right” for Jordan.

“Clearly, he’sperfectfor Sloane,” Jordan grumbles.

Sloane’s latest post is of her cuddling a white Maltese. Behind her, nearly blurred from focus, is Jamie. He’s been caught, mid-laugh.

The caption:hunky hugs and doggo kisses! xoxo Slo.

Jordan’s going to set his phone on fire.

It vibrates before he can. The notification preview drops down. A message from Grindr.

He grimaces.

Jordan should delete the app. He only uses it to chat. Never to hook up, unlike most other users.

Still, to get away from Sloane’s cavity-inducing sweetness, he thumbs open Grindr.

Three months ago, Jordan got a message from GrownAndZesty:

Hi we’re both new here so I thought it’d be cool if I sat at your lunch table.

It caught Jordan off guard. But it also made him laugh.

So he replied:

Only if you share your fruit snacks.

They’ve messaged each other sporadically ever since. He doesn’t know GrownAndZesty’s real name. Jordan hasn’t shared his either. His profile pic is just a headless shot of him tying a tie. But he knows GrownAndZesty is thirty years old, a chef at a restaurant in Peachtree Hills, and kind of funny.