Page 40 of Last First Kiss
“We were rehearsing a play,” Jamie insists. “A one-act show.”
“Well, the acting was tragic,” Jordan says.
“You didn’t even see the whole thing!”
“One star,” Jordan goes on. “Two thumbs down. Would not recommend.”
Jamie nudges his foot under the table. “Admit it. You believed us.”
“Believed what? That you would ever fall for Denz?”
Jordan barks out a laugh.
“So, you’re saying Denzwouldfall for me?” Jamie’s eyes sparkle. “That I’m irresistible? A charmer? A love ex—”
“You’re none of those things, Jamie.”
“Oh, my young apprentice. I’mallof those things and more.”
There’s no arrogance in Jamie’s tone. No real swagger. He doesn’t say it like Denz would. Instead, there’s humor and sarcasm and a healthy amount of self-deprecation in Jamie’s voice. Just the way Jordan imagines a border collie would say it, if dogs talked.
“Well.” Jordan twirls his fork. “Sorry you’re stuck with me tonight.”
“I’m not stuck with you.”
Jordan’s stomach does that thing again.
“I’m sure there were better options,” he says.
Jamie’s foot pushes against his and stops. He waits for Jordan to look at him before he says, “Jordan Carter, I’d happily be your Valentine next year.”
Jordan blinks. “Y-you would?”
“Of course!” Jamie rips into his burger. His foot stays pressed to Jordan’s. He swallows, then says, “It’s only fair. Since I offered to be Denz’s fake date. You deserve the Jamie Peters special too.”
If the key lime pie wasn’t so damn good, Jordan would toss the rest at Jamie. Smudge it all over his ridiculous grin. He settles for kicking Jamie’s ankle.
Unbothered, Jamie says, “For the record, I’m a pretty bad fake date.”
“I’m shocked,” Jordan deadpans.
“I’ve been told I’m not very good at holding hands.”
Jordan’s eyes stray to Jamie’s hands. He remembers them on his face and neck in the dark. Long fingers, soft palms.
Jamie’s voice cuts through the memory: “Wait. C’mere.”
“Um, why?”
Jamie huffs. “Just do it, Jordan.”
Weirdly, Jordan does. He inclines over the table. Jamie reaches out. His fingers skim Jordan’s temple. The warm pad of a thumb brushes across Jordan’s left eyebrow, over the scar there.
Something shiny falls past Jordan’s eyes.
Glitter.
He swallows a groan. Fucking Denz and his annoying need to be extravagant with every little detail.
