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We should get together again sometime.

If your boyfriend doesn’t mind.

His texts make me smile. He’s ridiculous in the absolute best way.

I’m glad we got to see each other too.

We should definitely get together.

And he’s not my boyfriend.

My phone starts ringing, and it’s Jordan wanting to FaceTime. I answer without thinking, immediately regretting it because I’m wearing that old high school T-shirt which proves I’m lame or thinking of him or whatever conclusion Jordan will draw. Plus, I don’t have a lick of makeup on. Don’t have a bra on either, meaning I’m not at my best.

At least my hair looks good.

“Why are you FaceTiming me?” I ask the screen, scowling at his handsome face. Ugh, he’s too good looking, even late at night when he should look his absolute worst. I sort of hate him in this moment.

“Felt bad that we didn’t get a chance to talk much.” He hesitates. I can see doubt flicker in his gaze for the briefest moment. “Your boyfriend seems nice.”

“I already told you he’s not my boyfriend.”

“He was very possessive of you, Mandy.” Jordan’s voice goes a little deeper and I swear I can feel it vibrating in the pit of my stomach.

I know exactly what moment Jordan’s referring to. “That’s because you offered to take me home and we went to the game together. I think you intimidated him.”

“I was just trying to be nice.”

Please. That innocent look on his face doesn’t fool me. “You’re my ex-boyfriend. You intimidated him,” I say again.

“Whatever. I think he was star struck. He probably wished I was taking him home.” There’s that ghost of a smile again. Seeing it makes me smile a little too.

“He probably did,” I agree.

“So he’s definitely not your boyfriend?” Jordan raises his brows.

I want to shout at him, why do you care? But I don’t. I guess he’s just curious. This is what happens when you reconnect with an ex, right? We’re curious about each other’s lives, including romantic entanglements we’re not involved in…

“Cade isn’t my boyfriend,” I say firmly. “We went out on one date.” Well, two.

“Two if you count tonight,” Jordan says like he’s living in my head, which he sort of is.

“Right. Two,” I say weakly, leaning back against my pillows. He has to know I’m in bed. Where’s he at? He appears freshly showered, his dark hair damp, and he’s wearing a gray T-shirt that stretches tight across his shoulders and chest.

Too bad he’s not shirtless. I remember Jordan always had great abs. I bet they’re even better now.

“You in bed?” he asks, again residing in my head.

How does he make those three words sound so freaking suggestive? “Um, yes.”

He takes a deep breath. Runs a hand through his thick, dark hair, messing it up perfectly. Hardens his jaw so he now looks extra sexy. Stares off into the distance for a moment like some sort of model in a photoshoot. “I won’t make the first move,” he finally says.

I’m confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You. Me. I refuse to make the first move. I’ve done that time and again over the years, and you still ended up destroying me.” He takes another deep breath, like that was a lot for him to say. I suppose it was.

But I want him to say more.

He doesn’t.


Tags: Monica Murphy Forever Yours Romance