Page 127 of Last First Kiss

“Jamie, that’s—”

Jordan stops short. The apartment is cast in gray. Shadowscrawl up Jamie’s face. They do nothing to disguise his damp eyes. The red of his lower lip from chewing too hard.

Jordan tries again. “Why didn’t you—”

“Ask for help?” Jamie fills in.

“Yeah.”

Jamie lets out a breath. “There are plenty of people who have it far worse than me. Who needrealassistance. I have both my parents, who are white and come from old money. I’m privileged as fuck.”

“Fair point, but—”

“I don’t want anyone to fix my problems,” Jamie says firmly. “It’smyfamily shit. I know how to deal with it.”

“Likethis?” Jordan can’t help the rise in his voice. “By playing dress-up? Pretending to be the son they want? While they still get to be the parents who don’t deserve you?”

“It’s not like that.”

“It is,” Jordan argues. “Who you are, who you date. That shouldn’t be up to your parents to decide. That shouldn’t be anyone’s decision.”

“I’m still me.”

“Only when you’re not around them. Or their friends.”

It all makes sense. What Jamie said at the bridal boutique when Jordan asked if Amy was happy.

She’s an adult who knows what she’s doing. If she’s not happy now, she will be.

Jamie wasn’t only talking about her.

And now Jordan’s furious. This isn’t the Jamie he’s always known. The one he’s loved… as a friend.

Jamie’s bangs fall limply over his forehead. “It’s temporary, Jordan. I’ll come up with a better plan. I just need space to figure it out, like…”

Jordan doesn’t need him to finish that sentence. He already knows.

Like you need space to figure yourself out.

The timer on his phone goes off. He lingers on the sofa a second longer. Just enough time to push the hair off Jamie’s brow and say, “Okay.”

He fixes bowls of soup for them. While in the kitchen, he refills Jamie’s glass of orange juice. He balances everything carefully as he returns to the sofa, sitting right beside Jamie this time.

Together, they slurp while rain splatters across Atlanta.

“Mmmmm.”

“Good?” Jordan says.

Jamie nods, then coughs violently. “Spicy too.”

Jordan lifts a challenging eyebrow. “Can’t handle a little spice, Jamie?”

A grin spreads across Jamie’s face. He stretches his long legs across Jordan’s lap. “I can handle a lot of things, Jordan. Spice included.”

Sharp heat curls behind Jordan’s jaw, slips into his ears. Maybe hedidadd too much ginger?

“Does Denz know?”