Page 58 of Last First Kiss
His phone vibrates on the table. A text from his mom. He doesn’t need to open the message to know what it is—info about his next blind date.
Another notification follows: a calendar reminder to finalize vendor meetings for Sam and Amy’s wedding. Which means he’ll have to see Jamie again. Possibly Sloane too.
Jordan should’ve ordered a mimosa.
Today’s not the day to be responsible.
Nic’s foot nudges his ankle. “Hey,” she says gently. “I promise organizing the tournament won’t take up too much of your time. I know you’re busy.”
He studies her for a minute. Then he says, “Don’t worry about it. I’d love to help.”
“You would?”
“Absolutely!”
It wouldn’t be the first time he’s worked on dual projects. Multitasking is one more thing he’s great at.
Besides, if he’s too busy wedding planning, too busy assisting Nic, then there’s no time to go on blind dates for his mom. Not a single free minute to spend thinking about whoJamie’sbeen on dates with. He can’t fret over one stupid dance, kiss, or how he does or doesn’t feel about any of it.
He grins at Nic. “Tell me what you need.”
-7-?Meet with the Cake Designer
Turns out, adding another project to Jordan’s already busy schedule helps.
His days are all about the wedding. Creating design ideas. Running them past the vendors. Selecting the rental company. He has so many calls and texts with Amy and Sam, he basically knows their entire schedule plus what they had for lunch.
At 5PMeach day, he switches from wedding bells to basketball hell. He sends Nic a Google doc questionnaire about the tournament to fill out. She replies,fuck you I’m not doing that.
Two days later, a completed form arrives in his inbox.
He dedicates his evenings to helping her. Between grocery shopping and laundry, he writes emails. While on the treadmill, he does research. Within a week, they have a basic plan of attack. It’s invigorating. Energizing.
There’s barely a second to be stressed about anything.
Until his next scheduled meeting with Amy and Sam.
It’s cake day. Thebestday.
He arrives fifteen minutes early. Not because he needed time to prepare. Cake tasting is easy, fun. It’s because he couldn’t sleep last night. He couldn’t bench-press the nerves out of his system this morning either.
Jordan hasn’t seen the lovely couple in person since they picked a venue. Which means he hasn’t had to be around Jamie either.
He stands outside, cracking his knuckles, waiting for everyone to show up.
The bakery sits on a quiet block of Kirkwood, on the east side of Atlanta. It’s wedged between a pottery shop and a pizzeria. Jordan loves historic neighborhoods like this. He loves that, outside the city’s mind-numbingly ridiculous traffic and noise, you can still find small pockets filled with hidden gems to get lost in.
Late June means Pride paraphernalia is everywhere.LOVE IS LOVEstickers smacked on lampposts. A rainbow-painted crosswalk. Colorful flags fluttering on the light breeze. While most of the businesses are only doing it for the commercialization—something Denz has griped to him about on multiple occasions—Jordan’s been to this area enough times to know their support is authentic.
Year-round, the sameALL ARE WELCOME HEREsigns can be found hanging in windows. There’s Drag Story Hour at the library. Queer trivia nights hosted by nearby bars. Diana Ross unironically blasting from a breakfast spot on Sunday mornings.
That “fuck your homophobic conservatism” energy the South desperately needs more of.
Jordan’s not sure where he fits in here.Ifhe fits in. But that doesn’t stop this part of the city from being one of his favorites.
Sam and Amy are supposed to arrive in five minutes. In the meantime, Jordan stops in front of the pizzeria. Strung in the big glass windows are LGBTQ+ flags. He only recognizes a few. The six-colored Pride flag. Bisexual and Progressive Pride ones too.
Jordan decides to google the rest.
