Bad Rep (Bad Rep #1)(65)
Author: A. Meredith Walters

Jordan grabbed my chin between his fingers and pulled me forward so that our noses brushed against each other. “You’ve got that right, Mays.” He grinned before sitting back down. We ate our dinner. We talked. We laughed. And we cemented why our relationship was worth the shit that came down like a firestorm around it.

I loved this man sitting in front of me. I loved him with every beat of my heart. Even though we had only been technically together for two weeks and known each other for less than half a year, there was no doubting what I felt. It was as clear as day.

It was hard to imagine what my life was like before he came into it. And I didn’t want to even begin to contemplate an existence where he wasn’t a part of it. It scared me with how entrenched he had become in my life. There was no ripping him out. Not now.

“Maysie Ardin! Please tell me you’re here to take your old job back,” Moore called out, coming out of the back.

I lifted my hand in a wave. “Maybe in the summer if you’ll have me back,” I replied. Moore walked over to the railing separating our booth from the bar area.

“I’m holding you to that, sweetheart.” He looked at Jordan. “Any way I can talk you into playing a short set next Saturday?”

Jordan made a grimace. “I don’t think so, man. We’re on a bit of a hiatus. But I’ll let you know when we start booking shows for the new year.”

Moore grumped but accepted his answer. “Fine, fine. But I best be first on your list,” he warned, then reached over and gave Jordan an awkward fist bump. Moore looked as though he had never given anyone a fist bump in his life.

“That guy is relentless,” Jordan said, taking a bite of his burger after Moore had left.

“You’re telling me. I can’t wait until you play here again, though,” I remarked. Jordan raised his eyebrows.

“Will you actually stay for the whole show next time?” he teased. I kicked him lightly under the table.

“Low blow, Jordan Levitt. Low blow,” I threw back at him. Jordan laughed.

“I know, I know. But I’m holding you to that. Next time your ass is in the front row. If I have to tie you to a chair, I will. I wanna see your sexy face when I’m up there. Knowing I’m the one that gets to see you naked will make it all that much better,” he said softly, his eyes holding mine.

I didn’t have anything to say. He had this crazy ability to make me lose all thought process. “Um, okay…” Then I shut up, any response quickly forgotten. Jordan laughed even louder, enjoying the fact that I was visibly squirming in my seat.

Riley took our empty plates. I had eaten everything and felt ready to burst. I leaned back in the booth and groaned. “I’m stuffed,” I said, rubbing my stomach.

“You better have room for dessert,” Jordan warned seductively.

“Oh, yeah?” I asked coyly, widening my eyes. Jordan smirked and the heat in his eyes made my body tingle.

Riley and Jaz came to the table, each carrying a tray. They started laying plates and bowls on the table. “What is all of this?” I asked, not believing my eyes. There was a plate of my favorite mini chocolate eclairs from Cup and Crumb. In a bowl was another of my weaknesses, Swedish Fish. Then there was a plate of chocolate croissants, something I kept in the apartment for breakfast at all times. Then lastly, there was a huge slab of Barton’s six layer chocolate cake, my favorite on the menu.

“Oh my god, Jordan!” I couldn’t believe how incredibly thoughtful he was. Jordan’s watched me warmly as I picked up a green Swedish Fish and popped it in my mouth.

“I’ve never seen someone get as happy as you do when there’s junk food to eat,” he teased, grabbing one of the eclairs.

My stomach felt all mushy. This guy was too much. How did I ever get lucky enough to be with him? And the way he watched me, I knew he was feeling the same about me. And I hoped like hell I would be able to keep him.

Jordan dropped his napkin on the table after we had polished through most of the food. He picked up the boxes with my left over dessert and pulled me to my feet. “Let’s get out of here. I have something sweeter to give you,” he said, dropping his voice low and brushing his nose along the side of my neck. I turned to look at him as I gripped his hand with mine.

“Lead the way,” I whispered, knowing I’d follow him anywhere.

Chapter Twenty-One

Today was the day. The beginning of the dreaded Parents’ Weekend. The two days that invited misery and discomfort to every college student in existence. Well, for those that wanted to hide their slacker debauchery from the rose colored glasses of their mom and dad.

My parents were driving up from South Carolina that morning. They never missed an opportunity to come up to campus, do the dinky tour and remind me of how important it is to make good decisions. They were probably about three hours into their five hour drive. Giving me exactly two hours to clean through the apartment like a mad woman and prep myself for Dad’s infamous interrogation.

“Woah, I’ve never seen this place so clean!” Riley gave a low whistle as she surveyed the spotless living room. I had gone all out, even going so far as to Windex the sliding glass doors. I had hidden my ash tray under an overturned flower pot. My parents didn’t know I smoked and I’d like to keep it that way.

“So I’m guessing your parents will be here soon.” Riley surmised, watching me fluff couch cushions for the millionth time.

“That would be an affirmative,” I mumbled, straightening the coffee table.

“Okay, Mays. You’re channeling some serious OCD. It’s okay. Your parents aren’t near as hard core as you make them out to be.” Riley loved my parents. Probably because they loved her. Her no nonsense, focused academic outlook as well as her stellar show of responsibility, had them eating out of her black nail polished hand.

“Of course you’d say that, Riley. I think they wish we had somehow been switched at birth,” I said, wiping the coffee table with a dust rag.

Riley snickered. “I seriously doubt that. You need to stop taking things so seriously,” she suggested. Easy for her to say. She didn’t have to live under the umbrella of parental disappointment on a daily basis. Her parents doted on her.

“So, what do you have planned for the parentals?” she asked, flopping down on the couch. I made a noise as she messed up the immaculately positioned pillows I had just straightened. I sighed but chose not to say anything.

“Well, we’re scheduled for the campus tour at 11:00. Then I’m taking them out to lunch. Figured we’d go to the Bakertown Deli. Jordan is supposed to meet us there,” I added. Riley’s eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under her bangs.