Page 36

JORDAN

“ F ucking hell, Jordan.” Preston covered his face with his hands, laughing deep and loud. “That was insane.”

“Good. Tried to suck the attitude out of you because I’m not sure I like this version of you.

” I didn’t want to admit he’d hurt my feelings.

Things had shifted for me since seeing him in the hospital, where I wanted to have more with him.

He hadn’t mentioned going on a date again.

He never brought up the girlfriend comment or us or what we were.

I was finally ready for it, yet he never said anything.

Yet, the more I wanted, the further he pulled away. I was in love with him, and he didn’t even know or care. It was a cruel, cruel fate for me, and I hated it. This though? Sexual teasing and chemistry? That I could do. That wouldn’t hurt me, and I could wall up my heart.

“I’ve been stressing out about hockey.” He sighed and moved his arm to stare at me, his face flushed and content. “God, you look good with swollen lips. You’ve pretty much ruined all blow jobs for me, by the way.”

“Good.” Did that mean he was thinking about blow jobs with other people? I didn’t like that. Anger fluttered deep in my gut, and I adjusted how I sat on the bed.

“Oh, are you grumpy now?” he teased, reaching out and gripping my thigh. “Did it make you wet to get me off like that? Do you need relief too?”

“No.” I stood, already planning to run to my room to use my vibrator.

Of course that got me wet. It was wildly hot to have that control over him, getting to pleasure him with my mouth and making him disconnect like that.

But I needed space to sort out the hurt, see if I could pull back the feelings somehow.

They weren’t reciprocated, and it stung.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he asked, voice rough.

“Uh, to my room?”

“Get your ass over here.”

That had me pausing. I loved the command in his tone, the urgency there. “Why? So you can pout more?”

“No, so I can get you off. Sit on my face.” Preston wiggled down his bed and lifted his arms on either side. “Climb on me and sit on me.”

“I’m not… you just had surgery.” My face heated, and the thought of riding his face caused the heated sensation to burn. My body screamed yes, yes, do it, please, dear god, but my heart said eh, probably shouldn’t.

“I won’t move anything but my tongue. I can give you what you need. Please?”

Fuck. It was that simple little please that did me in. He stared at me with heated eyes, his expression completely open like he wanted this—no, like he needed this too. Maybe he felt distance between us too and wanted to fix it. Hope burst through me at the idea of him wanting more of me too.

“What if I hurt you?” I asked, trying to keep some composure here. “I’m not a small girl. ”

“I want your thighs around my fucking face. How more explicit do you want me to be? Get over here now.”

Shit. That was hot. I quickly removed my pants and panties, taking my time moving toward his bed with Preston tracked with his eyes the entire time. My breath caught in my throat as I carefully crawled onto him again, finally sitting on his chest.

“Yes, this is a dream. My god.” He buried his face against my pussy, inhaling as he gripped my ass hard. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

He slid his tongue against my clit, humming into me as I leaned forward. His strokes were rhythmic, perfect. Each brush against my swollen nerves caused me to jerk with need. “Yes, Preston, yes.”

“Grab the headboard.”

I did, and he sucked me harder, sliding his fingers into me from behind and curling inside me. “ Goddamn. ”

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His mouth covered my pussy entirely, and I ground against him, chasing the orgasm just out of reach.

It wasn’t difficult—I was so turned on from sucking him off but fuck.

I gripped the edge of his headboard, digging my nails into it as he changed his pace.

He went slower, deeper, and that had me arching my back. “ Preston! ”

“Mmmm,” he replied, not slowing down or stopping. The orgasm exploded from my core, spreading through my limbs like a firework. I cried out his name over and over, the pleasure erasing all coherent thoughts. The pent-up anger dissipated as I hunched forward, resting my forehead on the headboard.

“Holy shit.” I breathed, laughing. “That was incredible.”

“You’re not done either.” He nibbled my inner thigh, and I looked down at him, his face between my legs. He wore a huge smile, and his eyes were dilated. “You need another one, and I’m gonna give it to you.”

“Kinda bossy for a guy I could smother with my thighs.”

“Baby, I’d love to go out that way.” He sucked my inner thigh for a beat, then moved back toward my clit.

One brush of his tongue, and I moaned and fell against the board.

It was so, so good. He repeated the process of bringing me to orgasm, turning me completely into putty, and yeah, I was less grumpy with him.

Sliding off him, I quickly slid my pants back on. “I gotta use the bathroom real quick,” I said, not quite looking at him. My heart twisted with uncertainty. It was easy to escape in sex, but now that it was done, I had no idea what to say. He always made things easy, and now they weren’t.

“You’ll come back in here then?”

I tensed. “Do…you want me to?”

“Yes, Jordan. Of course I want you to. Let me wash my face, then should we talk?”

Talk? Fuck. Oh no. That couldn’t be good.

“Sure,” I muttered, ducking my head to hide my face.

It enflamed with worry. What would he want to talk about?

About how he’d been pulling away from me?

How things had felt so weird all week, when I finally thought we were together?

That he regretted us being together? That he wanted to just be friends?

I sucked in a breath, my heart banging against my ribs.

This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t be.

The one time I fell in love, he wanted to talk.

“Do you mind grabbing my laptop for me downstairs? I’m sorry to ask—I have to email some professors and don’t want to go down and up again.”

“Of course. Be back in a minute.”

I used the brief moment to collect my thoughts, the process not doing jack shit to ease the worry growing in my gut.

This was the shit I hated. The unknown, not aware of how the other person felt about you.

It was like my mom all over again, where I wanted to please her and have her love me.

The push and pull was exhausting, and no matter what I did, she didn’t care.

This felt like that, and the emotions made breathing hard. Each breath was sharp against my throat, my eyes prickling as I quickly used the downstairs bathroom and gripped the counter. Logan always said to do a list of my worries and parse out what was real or not.

Preston cared about me. I knew that. He loved me the way I loved him, a deep, genuine friendship. Those feelings had shifted for me, and he admitted he was super attracted to me. But when I wanted to confess and take it to the next step, he backed off. That freaked me out.

He lived here. No matter what, he’d live here with us, and that meant he’d be close to me. If this thing between us blew up, he’d still be close, and we could navigate our friendship that way. There was no future without Preston in it, and he knew I felt that way.

Okay. The deep breathing helped, and my pace returned to normal. I’d see what he had to say, repeating those truths in the process. He’s not leaving me.

I washed my hands, smoothed my hair back and wove it into a braid, and went to search for his laptop.

The guy never had the device password protected—which wasn’t smart.

He was a hockey god here, and if he ever left it out like this, someone could ruin his life.

Hack his account or do something nefarious. At least in this house, he was safe.

Grabbing it with one hand, I quickly shoved a piece of gum into my mouth. The screen came to life with the movement, and his email was pulled up—the subject line jumping out at me.

It wasn’t like I was snooping. I wasn’t. But the words popped out: INTEREST IN NEW APARTMENT: INTERVIEW.

What the fuck?

A ringing formed in my ears, a dull throb as my stomach dropped. This was worse than falling through ice or a roller coaster. Never in my life had I invaded someone’s privacy, yet I couldn’t stop my fingers from moving the mousepad and clicking to open the email. Was it spam? Was it fake ?

Why would this pop up in his email?

Hi, Preston,

Thank you for submitting your application! We’re excited about your interest in our apartments. Currently, we have two units available starting February 1st:

A studio apartment.

A two-bedroom apartment.

I’ve attached the floor plans for both options for your review. I know you mentioned wanting immediate availability, so we’d be happy to add you to a waiting list in case something opens up before February.

If you have any questions or need further information, feel free to reach out. I’m available to chat anytime between 8:00 AM and 5:00 PM this week.

Looking forward to hearing from you!

Best regards,

Peter

February 1st. That was in mere weeks.

He’d applied for a new apartment… when did he do it? Why? Would he have told me? Oh god. My stomach rolled, my biggest fear actually happening. He’d move out. He didn’t want to be with me. We’d fade, and he’d leave my life.

My chest tightened, a familiar weight pressing down on me. He was already planning to leave—had probably been planning it for weeks. How long had he been thinking about this without saying a fucking word? Did I miss all the signs?

Was it something I did? Am I too much? Did I scare him off? The questions came fast, too fast, spiraling through my mind until I couldn’t tell where one ended and another began. My palms felt clammy, and I gripped the laptop like it was the only thing tethering me to reality .

The email stared back at me, mocking me.

The words blurred together, but one line stood out, bold and sharp: " We can put you on a waiting list between now and February ." A waiting list. He’d already thought it through, had already planned for the possibility that he’d move sooner. Did he really want to leave that badly?

My heart sank deeper as fear crawled up my spine, icy and relentless. He’s going to leave. Just like everyone else. It’s happening again, and I can’t stop it. The familiar sting of abandonment burned at the back of my throat.

And yet, beneath the fear, a flicker of anger ignited.

Why wouldn’t he tell me? I gritted my teeth, my nails digging into my palms. I was his best friend.

Fuck it. If he was looking at apartments, then he made a choice to leave without communicating with me.

It didn’t matter that I couldn’t live without him.

He made his choice, and I couldn’t take any more hits.

Slowly, painfully, I rearranged the ice around my heart, a fragile, shallow case protecting an already battered organ. This was good. It was good I saw this. It let me prepare for whatever fucking conversation he wanted to have. I knew his plan.

Maybe this is what he wanted to tell me.

Maybe this is why he avoided me all week.

The pieces moved together, clicking like a puzzle, and I fought another urge to throw up.

He used to make me feel like I was the only person in his life, that he saw all of me.

Hell, a part of me thought he was in love with me, but then when I started opening up, caring for him, he pulled away and wanted to move out.

Brushing my hair behind my ears, I marked the email unread , shut his laptop, and walked back to his room. I wanted Logan. I wanted to cry. I wanted to hit a fucking wall. The first time I thought about actually trying with someone, and he wanted to leave before we even tried .

Never again.

I never wanted to feel this way again.

“Here’s your laptop,” I said, somehow sounding normal as I walked back into his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, shirtless, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing as he adjusted his position. The bandage on his incision looked fresh, and the pang in my chest fucking ached to be with him.

His gaze landed on me, and he smiled. The lazy, half-grin that made his dimple pop and his eyes sparkle. He looked like he liked me, not like he was moving out. “Thank you for getting that. I feel annoying asking for help.”

“No big deal.” I set the device on the table near him, then moved toward his desk chair to sit. “Do you need anything else?”

He tilted his head, like he sensed the change in my tone. “For you to sit by me.”

I hesitated. “You said you wanted to talk. What did you want to talk about?”

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He frowned, the smile falling right off his face. “What just happened?”

“Nothing,” I lied, hating the lilt to my voice. I was a shit liar, and he knew it. “You said you wanted to talk, and I wanted to know about what. Do you have something to share?”

He rubbed his left shoulder—a clear sign of nerves. “I uh, don’t think so. I wanted to talk about you and me.”

I held up a hand, the urge to flee the fuck out of here gripping me a thousand times stronger than a magnet. “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. There is no us. ”

Preston flinched. “Wait, what ?”

How dare he look surprised? My voice shook, the damn feelings overtaking me. “You were looking to move out , Preston. You wanted to leave as soon as February! That is in two fucking weeks!”

He stood, eyes wide and panicked. “Jordan,” he said, slowly, carefully. He held up a hand as he shook his head. “That’s not… I’m not sure what you think?—”

“What I think!” I yelled, hating how tears formed in my eyes, and my heart shattered.

“You wanted to move out. I don’t know why or when, but it doesn’t matter if we were together or a thing or just friends.

You promised you’d never leave me! You promised me, and you were going to without saying a fucking word.

” I blinked, the tears spilling over. “I need to go. I need to leave.”

“Please, don’t, it’s not—Jordan, I beg you.”

I didn’t hear what he said. I didn’t care that his voice broke or that he sounded as shattered as I did. I bolted from his room, grabbed my coat and phone, and ran out of the house.