Page 47 of Latte Girl
He collapses against me, our heartbeats pounding in our ears as we shudder and gasp in the aftermath of an explosion that felt powerful enough to tear us both apart. I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of his skin so close to mine, and for the first time ever after being with someone like this, I feelcomplete.
* * *
“What time is it?”Iask.
Jordan and I are still stretched out on his mattress, coming down from the post-earth-shattering-orgasm high. He has his arm wrapped around me, my head resting on hisshoulder.
He stretches his other arm down to the floor and pulls his phone from the pocket of hisjeans.
“Just after nine,” hetellsme.
“Shit,” I mutter, sitting up and rubbingmyeyes.
“Do you have to be home forsomething?”
“Eventually,” I reply. “I’m looking after Amanda tomorrow morning. Surprise,surprise.”
He lifts his arms above his head, the muscles of his chest straining as he stretches. The sight lights a spark of desire in me despite the fact that I just came harder than I ever havebefore.
“At least let me make you some dinner,”hesays.
“Oh right,” I answer, bending over to kiss him. “I want to see at leastonespecial talent beforeIgo.”
He pulls me back down beside him, pinning my shoulders tothebed.
“You’re lucky you can’t stay the night,” he grumbles, “or else Iwouldteach you how to bepolite.”
Climbing off me, he gets out of bed and heads over to the kitchen, completelynaked.
I reach over and hunt around for my own phone on the floor. I have two message alerts. One is from my mom, asking when I think I’ll be home. I send her a quick reply and then check the second one. It’s from Steve. I let out agroan.
“What? Miss me already?” calls Jordan from acrosstheroom.
“You wish,” I tease, pulling my t-shirt over my head and joining him in the kitchen. “Actually, I’m just having problems with someone who doesn’t know whentoquit.”
Jordan gives me a quizzical look as he sets a pot down on thestove.
“That guy at the club...” I start toexplain.
“A random club guy is still sending youtexts?”
“Well, he’s not exactly random. He’s my ex-boyfriend. I ran into him at Dark Brown and he invited me to the bar, to catch up. He’s interning at Knox Security, weirdlyenough.”
Jordan’s head snapstowardsme.
“Your ex-boyfriend works at KnoxSecurity?”
He looks alarmed. I try to diffuse theconversation.
“We hadn’t talked in years. Really, I only meant to have a drink or two and talk with him a bit. We all just got kind of drunk. He asked to see me again but I turnedhimdown.”
“What department does he work in?” asks Jordan, barely seeming to hear what I’vejustsaid.
“Um, distributing? Marketing? Something like that. Really, though,” I try to reassure him, “I’m notinterested.”
“It’s not that. It’s just...” He trails off, watching the oil heat in the pan. “Weird coincidence is all,” he saysfinally.
The mood lightens after that, and after finishing off the spaghetti Jordan cooks and fending off his attempts to stop me from putting the rest of my clothes back on, I order an Uber to takemehome.
