Page 87 of Last First Kiss
“I can’t help it!”
“Well, try!”
Jordan tugs Jamie to him. “C’mere, Zac Efron.”
Something flashes in Jamie’s eyes. It’s like lightning. It crackles in Jordan’s belly.
“Watch me,” he instructs.
And Jamie does. Through every hand gesture. Every two-step. His gaze never leaves Jordan’s body. Not until the East Asian woman drops to one knee in front of her girlfriend.
Jordan has Jamie’s happy squeal in one ear, Bruno Mars’s swoony “Just say I do” in the other.
The Black woman shouts “Yes!” and they kiss.
“See,” Jamie says over the roaring crowd, “I have great ideas.”
Sunlight starts to fade behind infinitely tall skyscrapers. The music continues, but it’s a muted backdrop to the cheering. A quiet whisper under the racing of Jordan’s heart.
From the dancing.
From the spontaneity.
From the way he can tell Jamie’s smiling even without looking.
Despite himself, Jordan says, “Yeah, Jamie, you really do.”
With adrenaline in their blood and the sky turning a gorgeous shade of wine, Jamie leads them back onto the path. Deeper into the park. They don’t speak, but their grins grow with every step.
The air cools to a comfortable warmth. Jamie brushes his damp bangs back. Jordan peels his sweat-sticky shirt from his chest.
He willingly goes wherever Jamie takes him.
Once more, Jamie doesn’t disappoint.
They trade Bruno Mars for excited barking. The dog park is alive with noise. All the dogs arethrivingas they chase each other, tongues lolling. Their owners lean on the fencing or scroll their phones while sitting on the benches.
Nearby: A King of Pops cart awaits.
Jamie faces him. “Strawberry lemonade’s still your favorite?”
Jordan ignores the little flutter behind his ribs. His lips pucker defiantly. “No. Chocolate sea salt.”
“Are you lying?”
“No,” Jordan repeats.
Jamie reaches out, his thumb and index finger pinching Jordan’s left nipple through his shirt. He twists hard.
“Ow!” Jordan yelps, shocked but giggling. “Did you just give me a purple nurple? What are you?Ten?”
“Don’t lie to me,” Jamie commands, smirking.
“Ugh. Fine. Yes, strawberry lemonade is still my favorite. Happy?”
“Very. Be right back.”
Jamie jogs off in the direction of the rainbow-umbrella-shaded white cart. Jordan studies the way Jamie instantly wins over the vendor. Within seconds, they’re exchanging laughs and head nods like they’ve known each other for years.
