Page 15 of Last First Kiss

That’s the worst of it.

Until he gets to his apartment building’s gym, where he realizes he forgot his sweat towel. Just lovely. No weights for him this morning.

He sulks his way over to the treadmills.

The wall of machines faces a large window. Outside, Midtown Atlanta is bathed in the sunrise’s light. All the glass and stone buildings stretch like fingers toward the multicolored sky.

Jordan loves this view. He can watch the early risers dip in and out of coffee shops. Patio umbrellas popping open as cafés prepare for the day. Cars zooming over the roads still damp from last night’s storm. Buses idling on corners.

The gym itself is fairly empty. Only a handful of residents mill around. One guy goes hard on the bench press, grunting his way to either more gains or major rotator-cuff damage. Everyone else is posing for their phones, pretending to work out for social media content.

They all give him a friendly head nod.

He waves back.

The first day Jordan visited Peach & Oak Apartments, he fell in love. It’s nice, well-maintained. Alittleon the gentrified side, but affordable. Nothing like the luxury place Denz once rented in the heart of downtown Atlanta. Or the top-floor penthouse his mom and Tevin share, the one he grew up in.

But this is allhis.

An eight-hundred-square-foot, one-bedroom smart apartment. The first realadultthing he’s ever had.

Up until last year, Jordan was only an assistant at 24 Carter Gold. The salary was great. It was also half of what he makes now as an event coordinator. Not even a quarter of what he’llearn once he gets promoted to events manager. If he nails his latest assignment, that is.

Which hewill. Starting today.

Jordan slides his wireless earbuds in. He scrolls to his new go-to podcast:Spine Breakers, and settles his phone on the treadmill’s holder. No, it’s not a series about chiropractors. Or a duo of “experts” giving out sex tips. Instead, the podcast follows two earnest readers as they discuss their favorite romance novels.

Romance isn’t Jordan’s first pick—for books or movies. But the hosts are hilarious. Their banter is just the right blend of humor and hysterics to keep Jordan’s brain busy for a thirty-five-minute workout.

Too bad an incoming FaceTime call stops him before he can hit Play.

He stares at the name on the screen with a frown. It’s not even 6:30AM.He half expects it to be his boss. Or his mom. But it’s neither.

Jordan sets the treadmill’s speed on low before answering.

“Braylon’s gonna kill me!” comes through the speaker before the video connects.

Jordan’s not sure whether to laugh or contact the FBI. He opts for the former.

“What did you do?”

“Me?Why is it my fault?”

“Because you’reyou, Denz.”

His cousin flips him off.

Denz is the perfect mix of Uncle Kenny and Auntie Leena. Rich brown skin, thick eyebrows. A slightly wide forehead that you rarely notice because of his short, textured sponge curls. Denz has a great smile too. Very photogenic, which helps with his enormous social media presence.

That smile is nowhere in sight now. He looks equally wired and exhausted.

“Why are you up anyway?” Jordan grimaces. “It’s threeAMthere.”

Denz lives in California. He moved last year after realizing being CEO of the family business wasn’t his real passion. Oh, and to be with the man he’s loved since college.

“Because my boyfriend is going to murder me,” Denz says around a yawn. “Keep up.”

“I am.”