Page 52 of Last First Kiss

Like drunk-uncle-joke funny. A step above Ellen funny.

Both their profiles are set to “Looking For: Friends.” Their interactions have been very casual. Until this morning. When the new message pops up, it reads:

Hi. haven’t heard from you in a min. missed our talks. busy this weekend? ??

Underneath is a photo.

A dick pic.

Jordan chokes on his smoothie. The phone slips from his hands. Hurriedly, while trying to catch his breath, he closes out Grindr. No one’s near his office—everyone seems to have a million things to do today—but he’s not taking any risks.

With an aggressive swipe, he finally deletes the app.

This is what he gets for trying. What was he thinking? That having a dating—ahookup—app would magically help him understand himself better? That he’d meet a nice guy? That he’d suddenly realize what he wanted was todatea nice guy?

Well, thanks, Grindr. Jordan knows what he doesn’t want. Guys like GrownAndZesty and their unsolicited dick pics.

He drops his head in his hands. “Fuck.”

Problem is, Jordan thought he was into Jess. She was smart and witty and had good energy. But he didn’t have the urge to kiss her. Or to go home with her either.

Isn’t that what he should’ve wanted, though?

Shouldn’t Jordan desire anything other than to slow dance in the middle of an empty greenhouse with a man hecan’t—and isn’t fully sure if hewantsto—have?

His head hurts. Most likely from brain freeze.

“You look like you’re gonna vomit.”

Or maybe it’s the man leaning in his office doorway, full lips pulled into a smirk, the rolled sleeves and three undone buttons of his white collared shirt showing off far too much skin.

“What do you want, Javi?” Jordan mumbles into his hands.

“No ‘good morning’? ‘Nice to see you’?”

“It’s too early for lying.”

“Ouch.” Javi steps inside, uninvited.

Jordan drops his hands, sighing. “No, please, come in. I wasn’t busy at all.”

“You didn’t look like it.” Javi flops into the chair opposite Jordan’s desk. He whistles lowly. “Is it true? You booked the Piedmont Conservatory? In August?”

“Yes, I did,” Jordan says with an edge.

“How’d you pull that off?”

“Why?” Jordan leans back in his chair, mirroring Javi’s earlier smugness. “Impressed?”

“In disbelief,” Javi counters. “You’re a rookie. I can’t imagine they’d open their events slot early just for you.”

“Well, they did. They’re aware of how great I am.”

“Did you use your uncle’s name?”

“I didn’t have to. My reputation speaks for itself.”

Javi snorts. “Reputation for being our boss’s former assistant? For being the watered-down Denzel Carter?”