Jim hadn’t quite made it to the bank door when I rolled down the window and called out, “Mind if I tag along this weekend?”
“Not at all. You know how much I hate driving.”
Several thoughts tangled inside my head at once. I should probably talk to my mom before saying anything to Wild, but at the same time, what if Wild didn’t want to meet Jordan? If he said no, there’d be no point in going besides a paycheck, and there was plenty of work right here. My choice made, I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened my text messages.
Me: What are your plans this weekend?
WILDER
I had to blink a few times to make sure I’d read Jordan’s message correctly. June and Gwen were rambling at me about some cat they’d found slinking around their backyard, and I couldn’t concentrate.
“Are you even listening to us?” Gwen asked, flipping her long, copper bangs from her eyes.
I ignored her.
What are your plans this weekend? His question stirred the butterflies in my stomach. Maybe it was just a hypothetical. Like hey, what’s going on, or what are you up to? But he wasn’t that casual of a guy. His question was too specific. Did he want to meet? Maybe he’d decided to FaceTime after all? Why was I freaking out about six simple words?
“Wilder?” June snapped and I raised my eyes from the screen. “What the hell?”
“Sorry.” I held up my phone, signaling I’d gotten some type of important message. “I have to take care of this,” I said, feeling shaky as I stood.
Gwen’s smile faltered. “Everything okay?”
“You look paler than usual,” June teased, but the concern in her voice was evident.
“I’m fine.” I smiled, but June followed me out of my living room into the hallway. I waved my hand at her and added a few extra watts to my grin. “Go sit down. I’m fine. Just need a clear head when I respond to this.” She didn’t budge. With a sigh, I said, “It’s Jordan, alright. Can I have three minutes of privacy in my own home?”
She raised her brows, an irritated glint in her dark eyes. “Don’t be a bitch about it. I was worried. You looked—”
“I’m fine. Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”
“You know how I get when I’m hungry.”
“I know, believe me.” I smirked, and she punched me in the arm.
“Why am I friends with you?” she asked, and I leaned in and kissed her cheek.
“Because I’m brilliant.”
“And humble,” she hummed before heading back to the living room.
Once in my office, I swiped my thumb across the screen of my phone and typed out a quick message I hoped seemed nonchalant.
Me: This weekend?
Me: Oh, you know, the usual.
Me: Banging my head against my desk wondering how on Earth I ever got published in the first place and if I’ll ever be able to write again...
Jordan: Are we feeling dramatic today?
Me: I’m always feeling dramatic, Jordan.
Me: Always.
Jordan: Maybe my news will help?
Jordan: Or make it worse?
Me: You have my full attention.
And he did. I pulled at the corner of my lip with my teeth, my fingers tapping the back of my phone. I was amped up and curious as hell.
Jordan: My boss is headed up to Marietta to check out a project he might take on, and I guess I’m driving him.
Marietta was less than twenty miles from where I lived in Ansley Park.
“Twenty miles,” I whispered.
I paced back and forth a few times in my small office. The butterflies in my stomach threatened a full-on uprising. FaceTime was one thing. It was safe. Mutual, easy ground. A place where we could decide if this weird friendship we’d developed through letters and snippets of time was real and not some cooked-up scheme by a serial killer. My theatrics knew no bounds. But what if? I’d received quite a few hateful emails and messages on my social media since my book had gained popularity. Things I’d had June delete for me because I hadn’t been able to bear reading them again. People whom I’d never met, telling me I’d brought disgrace to the state of Georgia, that I was sick and that I should die. That my book wasn’t a love story, but a depraved work of the devil. The south really knew how to make a guy feel special. I wanted to believe Jordan wasn’t like that.
“You know he’s not.” I spoke out loud, feeling unsure of myself.
Last night I did something I never permitted myself to do. I trusted my gut. I wanted to blame the wine for giving Jordan my number. Attribute my behavior to the surreal day I’d had. I’d wanted to feel grounded, and Jordan was the peg. I exhaled a tremulous breath knowing I liked Jordan more than I should. The miles between us had suddenly dwindled to less than twenty, and that scared the hell out of me. I’d invested more of myself in him than I’d ever meant to allow.
Me: This is big news.
I heard June and Gwen talking in the other room and remembered I didn’t have all day to dwell on this. I figured my text was neutral enough. I didn’t want him to think I assumed a meeting was inevitable. But as I sat, staring at my phone, watching those three dots dance, I realized I wanted to meet him. I wanted to meet this guy who I couldn’t wait to hear from every day. This guy who’d given all of himself to help his mom and disabled brother. A guy who understood sacrifice and unconditional love, but never expected it in return.
Jordan: What do you think?
Jordan: Would you want to meet in person?
Me: Last night you said FaceTime would burst our bubble.
Me: Meeting in person is…
Jordan: Big.
Jordan: I get it if you think it’s a bad idea.
It could be a bad idea. Or it could be the best. Either way, my heart was beating a million miles an hour, my chest rising and falling as I tried to calm my breathing and type.
Me: I don’t think it’s a bad idea.
Jordan: You don’t?
Me: Can I be candid?
Jordan: Sure.
Me: I’m nervous.
Jordan: That I’m a serial killer?
Me: Maybe.
Me: And maybe I’ve grown quite fond of our bubble.
Me: But I think we’d have to rip the Band-Aid off eventually. Right?
He didn’t answer right away, and I worried I’d said the wrong thing.
Jordan: I’m nervous too.
Jordan: Nervous you’ll take one look at me and leave.
Me: You can’t be that hideous. A guy as hot as Ethan wouldn’t be into you otherwise ;)
“Wilder Welles. If you don’t get your skinny ass out here, we’re leaving without you,” June hollered.
“And we’ll take your Sauron Funko Pop with us.” Gwen tried to sound angry, but her laughter sifted through the closed office door.
“Almost done,” I yelled. “And if you touch my shit, I swear to God…”
Me: I have to go. June and her girlfriend are planning a mutiny if I don’t take them for sushi this very second.
Me: When June’s hungry the world must stop and bow at her feet.