Page 90 of Last First Kiss

“W-what?” Jordan stutters.

Jamie waves his popsicle in front of Jordan’s face. “Do you get it now?”

No, Jordan doesn’t. He has no clue what they were talking about. Or what’s going on with the lower half of his body.

“Yup. No other, uh… demonstrations needed.”

Jamie beams victoriously.

Jordan shoves his own popsicle into his mouth. He’s determined to prove this “death by brain freeze” theory true.

“Should we get going?” Jamie offers.

There’s a push and pull inside Jordan. A tug-of-war. He needs to get home. He’s lost too many hours where work should’ve been done. But he likes it here among the yapping dogs and melting popsicles and random flash mob proposals.

Here with Jamie.

Jordanshouldn’tlike it. He’s been down this path before. It didn’t end well.

Not for him, at least.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s late.”

Jamie’s face is blank. No relief or disappointment. Only a long stare Jordan can’t shake.

Finally, he says, “Want to walk together?”

Jordan smiles. “Why not.”

Jordan’s parked in a paid lot like a normal, law-abiding citizen. He can’t say the same for Jamie.

Somehow, Jamie knows of a secret lot behind an abandoned auto shop. A place where no one puts a wheel clamp on your car. Or reports you becauseit’s an abandoned property, who the hell parks there in the first place?

Instead of walking to his own car, Jordan accompanies Jamie. It’s not that he thinks anything will happen to Jamie. But it’s downtown. At night. And, well, Jamie doesn’t look like he can throw a punch.

Not without hurting himself in the process.

Faded oil stains the uneven pavement. In one corner, shattered glass glitters under orangey streetlights. Used tires are piled in another. The air still smells of grease. In the distance, the noise of roaring cicadas and late-night traffic is softened, nearly muted.

Harmless.

Jamie’s Jeep is the only vehicle in the lot. Yellow hazard lights flash as he unlocks the Jeep with his key fob. He leans with his back against the driver’s-side door. Jordan stuffs his hands in his pocket. He rocks on his heels, looking around.

The few streetlamps cast everything in half shadows. Not enough to hide the definition in Jamie’s body. His shirt is still undone, his long torso exposed.

Jordan swallows. “Okay, well. See y—”

“Hey.” Jamie’s hand catches his elbow. “Today was good, right?”

It’s hard not to focus on Jamie’s thumb rubbing circles into the soft skin on the inside of Jordan’s elbow. The warmth spreads from that one point of contact to the rest of Jordan’s body.

“Which part?” Jordan says. “Crashing someone’s proposal? Your tragic dancing? The part where you publicly shamed me for eating a popsicle wrong?”

Jamie’s grin crinkles his nose. “All the above.”

Jordan shrugs. “It was okay.”

“Okay?”