Page 62 of Last First Kiss

“That was an accident—”

“I’m fine, Jamie,” Jordan cuts in, finally pivoting enough to look at Jamie’s face. “Weare fine.”

“I can’t tell,” Jamie mutters. Doubt circles those big brown eyes. Like a sad, trapped-in-a-kennel border collie waiting to go home.

What does he expect Jordan to say?

Actually, I’m fantastic! That whole you-rejecting-me thing? Thatdidn’t fuck with my brain at all. For the record, I don’t care that you’re dating either! That some beautiful model isrightfor you. Also, guess what? I still have no clue why you’re the only man Ilikedkissing. Or why I fuck up every single date I go on.

Instead, Jordan says, “Jamie, as Bowser is my witness, I promise we’re good even though you still foolishly think Toad is the best character,” with the biggest smile he can manage.

Jamie’s nose wrinkles. “Because he is.”

Amy walks up. “Are you two talking aboutMario Partyagain?”

“Mario Kart,” they both correct her, then laugh.

For a brief second, Jordan really does believe what he said.

They’re good.

“Whatever,” Amy huffs. “We decided on some options. Yara’s grabbing samples.”

Some optionstranslates into eight different cake flavors.

Ten minutes later, they’re seated at a small table on the other side of the shop, forks in hand. Yara places two long, rectangular ceramic dishes with four neatly cut squares of cake on each in front of them. It’s like a wine flight but with cake.

A cake flight.

Yara stands over them, grinning. She goes over each flavor profile as they sample.

First is strawberry, then French vanilla. A basic white is next. Jordan doesn’t have a sweet tooth—not like his mom—but each forkful of cake is light and flavorful. Fucking delicious. He can’t imagine how Amy’s going to choose.

“That one is the peach,” Yara points out.

It pops with a nice headiness on Jordan’s tongue. Not too sugary or overwhelmingly artificial. The smell alone reminds him of being in his auntie Leena’s kitchen as she whipped together her famous cobbler.

To his right, Jamie full-on moans. Eyes closed, shoulders trembling. It’s a lot to witness.

Jordan forces himself to look away. That doesn’t stop the strange shift moving through his belly.

“It’ssogood!” Amy cries, like she has with every slice.

Yara beams. “Thank you. Next to that one is the matcha.”

Amy sighs, disappointment etched into her face.

“What’s wrong?” Jordan asks.

“This one’s more for me,” she admits, forking up a piece. She nearly sobs after trying it. “We can’t have it at the wedding.”

“Sam hates matcha?”

“Are you kidding me?” Amy guffaws, head back, sunglasses almost falling off. “I’m the reason helovesmatcha! We used to trade off who’d pick our next date destination. He always went for the sophisticated places. Just to impress me. Once, he took me to a rooftop lounge to watch fireworks. But everyone was so drunk and noisy, it was hard to enjoy it.”

“Yikes!”

Jordan could never imagine planning a date that poorly.