“Isn’t it?” He watches me for what feels like forever. “Do you think Jordyn has feelings for you?” he finally asks.
“I don’t know. I mean, she recently hooked up with her douchebag ex at a wedding shoot and he was kind of like the old me. And she sends me mixed messages, but I can’t read her. This is new territory for me. I’m used to chicks being pretty straightforward. Remember the last one?”
“There aren’t even words for that last one.” He sighs. “Tyler, Jordyn isn’t the same. She isn’t just a cheap lay. You’re having feelings. Surely you’ve had feelings for a girl before hooking up with her?”
“Not really.”
“That’s . . . sad.”
“Doc, I was hoping you’d talk some sense into me and here you’re telling me I should act on my urges toward Jordyn.”
“I didn’t tell you to act on your urges, I told you to act on your feelings. I hope for your sake you know the difference.”
? ? ?
When I see Jordyn at work, she’s still not wearing any makeup. And it’s seriously messing with my head. I’m not entirely convinced she’s not doing it for me. But then again, I’ve seen her actually talking to people at school for a change. I’m probably being an arrogant douchebag.
When she asks why I’m so weird today, I tell her I’m thinking about Mom not leaving a note. It works. She doesn’t bring it up again. But I’ll have to figure out how to put a lid on this shit, because that excuse will only work for so long. I notice her eyeing my ear, but she doesn’t ask. Unlike the rest of the world, she knows I’ll talk about it when I’m ready.
TWENTY-FOUR
As soon as I’m settled in at work the following Saturday, Jordyn saunters over and tosses a book on the counter in front of me.
Or Not to Be: A Collection of Suicide Notes by Marc Etkind.
“Thanks?” I say.
“I’m just saying . . . they’re not all gems. It’s kind of fascinating.” She shifts her feet like she does when she’s nervous. “Forget it. It’s messed up.” She reaches for the book, but I hang on.
We both hold the book and also intense eye contact. I think she might be waiting for me to kiss her, but if I’m wrong . . . Or she might just be trying to read me, trying to figure out if I’m actually offended that she bought me a book of suicide notes.
She bought me a book of suicide notes! I feel a smile creep onto my lips. I wonder if this is what Dr. Dave meant by feelings. Because I kind of love that she bought me a book of suicide notes. Who does that thinking it’s thoughtful? And it is thoughtful. And she’s so beautiful—she’s got these dark brown, cat-like eyes with little flecks of gold, and this thick, glossy black hair that falls over her shoulder, just reaching the top of her breast. And the fullness of her bottom lip . . . it’s the kind of lip you want to take between your teeth.
I’m not sure how long we’ve been holding on to the book. I’ve completely lost track of time. I brush my finger across the book until it meets hers. If she doesn’t move her finger or let go, I’ll take that as a sign.
She does move her finger, but only to brush my finger back. My breathing speeds up. That tiny little touch is enough to make my entire body throb with electricity. I pull on the book, drawing her closer, looking from her eyes to her lips and back again. She licks her bottom lip. I lean in slightly. My stomach feels like I’ve swallowed a hurricane.
I stare at her lips until I’m close enough to feel her breath against my face. I shut my eyes wanting to memorize every sensation. Our noses touch and my heart speeds up. I hear her lips part and I feel her tip her head up so her lips come closer to mine.
And then the phone rings. We jump apart like a couple of kids caught playing doctor. And it’s damn good timing too. Just as Jordyn returns to her chair to answer the phone, Henry bounds in, whistling what sounds like that one song from the musical Cats.
Jordyn and I don’t so much as acknowledge the almost kiss. We simply go about business as usual. But damn if I don’t think about how much I want to try again every second of the rest of the day.
? ? ?
Henry’s first in on Sunday, much to my disappointment. I was hoping for a replay of yesterday morning. And he keeps me busy helping him all day. I don’t get a chance to even see Jordyn until after the final client leaves and the three of us sit at the counter, sighing.
“Welp, that was a day,” Henry says, kicking his feet up on the counter.
Jordyn and I just nod, occasionally exchanging glances.
“Can you believe it’s Thanksgiving already? What are your plans for the big day, Tyler?”
“I’ll probably just hang out at home.”
“No family close by?”
“No. And that’s fine. My dad and I . . . we’re not really Thanksgiving people.”
Henry looks like he might faint. “That won’t do. You’ll come to our house.” And that’s that.