Page 38 of Burn It Down
“Look at this fine specimen.” Maggie, in her mid-thirties, was also an incorrigible flirt.
“Wha--...” I went cold and nearly dropped the steaming pitcher of espresso I was holding.
Jordan Dexter. Looking handsome in dark washed jeans, a crisp plaid button up and a leather jacket. Somehow, the heavy boots didn’t match what I knew of Jordan. My eyes darted past him to see a motorcycle parked outside. Interesting.
With his dark hair a wavy mess and a days’ worth of stubble on his face, he was a fine specimen indeed. Rugged handsome in a new way, as if I saw him with new eyes. Jordan was muscular in a lean way, with corded arms, solid thighs, and strong hands. It was his hands that made me first consider him pretty, in fact.
“Morning, Gorgeous. Can I have a large hazelnut, extra foam?” Jordan spoke as if we shared a secret, and Maggie noticed right away.
“Coming right up.” As I rang him up, avoiding his eyes, she prepared his coffee.
“You look lovely today.” Jordan spoke huskily as he waited. I realized there were no customers waiting, and Maggie was taking her sweet time.
“Th-thank you, Professor Dexter.” Jordan beamed at me, and I felt myself blush, which meant he could no doubt see it.
“Jordan. You know I hate when you call me Professor. Can…can we get lunch today? After class, maybe?” I was ready with the no; the same no I gave all the other men who flirted or asked me out.
“Where?” I did not say no, and I immediately regretted it because his handsome face lit up.
“Wherever you’d like.” I considered saying no still, but I knew I had to know for myself, and for Finn.
“Yes. Lunch after class. See you at class, Jordan.” Those dark eyes went from coffee to deep chocolate as he took his order from me.
“Thank you. See you then, Gorgeous.” Once he was gone, Maggie let out a low whistle.
“Score for Gigi!” I tried to smile, but inside I was panicking.
“Just lunch, Mags. It’s…complicated. Jordan is my professor. I just…I’m sort of seeing someone; I mean, I was; we kind of…took a break, I guess?” Maggie nodded and laid her head of curls at my shoulder.
“Figuring things out. As you should be. You’re young, gorgeous, and as far as I can tell, generally you retain all your motor functions. Shit, you should be figuring things out every day of the week.” Maggie let out a wicked laugh as I forced a smile.
Therein lay the irony of my current situation. Two months ago, I had nothing figured out. I just had Finn, and it was good enough for me. Until I felt the betrayal when he couldn’t just say the words. Just tell someone that I mattered, thatwemattered.
Instead, I was heartbroken and certain I could never be enough for him. That he would always be seeking more to fill the emptiness he felt. Now, just when I thought we could figure out what this might be like, it seemed he felt the same way.
That I would always wonder what if.
What if I dated that hot professor and let him take me out and see where things went? What would it be like to hold someone else’s hand? To talk and laugh with someone else?
I knew I could never feel with someone else what I did with Finn--that fire between us that nearly burned us to the ground. I liked the heat, but maybe it didn’t have to be like that to work. Maybe I could want someone pretty, who let me feel something different.
I think Finn had always been waiting. Waiting for me to try other men out, like he had been doing with his badge bunnies for so long. Now, he could experience just what it was like to watch someone you loved try plenty to feel something for someone else. I had to watch enough.
Every day that week, I did try. I had lunch with Jordan every day after classes. Sometimes we would even see an art show or walk around the park, just to talk. I did like Jordan. He was sweet and funny, and easy to be around.
Sometimes he was a little intense, and I knew he wanted more than I could give. When we walked, Jordan reached for my hand; his felt like lead in mine. Every time we parted, he kissed my cheek, but his eyes lingered on my mouth.
Roses started showing up at my door and I knew it was him. Finn wouldneversend flowers; if he did, they wouldn’t be roses. He knew I hated them. I reallywastrying. Didn't mean it was working. I tried to feel something that wasn't coming.
The air was icy when the first snow fell one late Thursday afternoon. It had been nearly two weeks of me trying. Fall was in full swing, but winter was making a show. I was supposed to meet Jordan for a show at the Orpheum, but I lingered in the streets.
I loved the snow and had been impatient for winter to start. Heavy flakes fell from gray skies when I felt him. I didn’t move, because I didn’t have to; Finn was close enough I felt the brush of his jeans against my backside. That heat burned through me, the heat that was always him. Always us.
“You love the snow. I thought I might find you enjoying it.” His breath lingered in the air in an icy puff.
“I do love the snow. Where you looking to find me?” We hadn’t spoken since that night. I missed him more this time with him ten feet away.
“I’m always looking for you. Avoiding you.” That hurt, and he shoved closer, his beard rough at my ear, “It’s a fuckova lot harder to watch you trying than I thought it would be. I don’t want to see you walking down the street, holding his hand. See that pretty motherfucker wanting you when he kisses your face.” I almost smiled because I kind of liked that he was in pain. It was his turn.
