Page 9 of Never Ever Getting Back Together

“Yes, but it’s just occurred to me that you could get hurt, and I want you to promise to be careful. Oh, no, I sound like Mom.”

“I’ll be careful. Wherever possible.”

“That’s notsuperreassuring, though. You know that, right?”

Smirking, I callDON’T YOU DARE TEXT HIM YOU GODDAMN MASOCHISTbefore she can come up with any more reasons why she’s suddenly against the idea.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Maya Bailey. You called me back.”

As soon as I hear his voice, I’m sixteen years old again, crazy in love and broken from the inside out.

Rosie glares at the phone with a curled lip. I try to breathe through the flurry of emotions and focus. I’m semi-successful-ish. “Of course,” I say, forcing a smile. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Jordy’s laugh is all easy and warm and familiar. Theworst.“Ahh, good point, good point. I guess I was just freaking myselfout over nothing. It’s been so long, I’d sort of convinced myself maybe you hate me now, or… I don’t know. I’m stupid, ignore me.”

Something important to know about Jordy is that he has an accent. It’s supposed to be an English accent, but I’m pretty sure it’s closer to how Americans think English people sound than an actual English accent. His dad is legit English and Jordy’s always insisted he picked up the accent naturally by being around his dad and paternal cousins. Amazingly, though, his sister, Samantha, talks normally. What a strange and completely unexplainable mystery that one is.

Oh wait, never mind, I can totally explain it. Jordy Miller is—as his English relatives would say—a fucking wanker.

“Hate you?” I ask in feigned shock, while Rosie stifles laughter. “Why would I hate you?”

“I know, I know,” Jordy says. “It’s just my anxiety. I’ve… wow. You know, it’s really great to hear your voice, Maya.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Maya.Are you playing coy with me? We know each other better than that.”

God, he’s really laying it on thick, huh? “I’m assuming you’ve called to ask me something. So, go ahead. Ask me.”

Another golden laugh. “Okay, okay, stop stalling, Jordy. Got it. So, Gwendolyn told me she spoke to you a few days ago about the show, and that you said you might be too busy to fit it in.”

I feel like Gwendolyn might have taken the paraphrasing a bit too far with that one, but, sure. “Something like that.”

“Okay. Look, I get that, and I don’t want you thinking I’m trying to push you into something you don’t want to do here. But the thing is, I don’t know if I even wanna do this if you don’t come, Maya.”

I roll my eyes and tip my head back. Rosie copies me. “Come on, Jordy.” I can’t even try to hide my skepticism at this one.

“No, Maya, seriously. It’s… okay, it’s embarrassing, but screw it. When I agreed to come on the show, it was mostly because I thought maybe it was my chance to fix what went down between us.”

He’s a great actor. Oscar-worthy, honestly. But like hell I’m buying that. “Really?”

“Yes. Is that the worst thing you’ve ever heard, or what? How mortified should I be?”

Rosie mimes strangling someone, and I try to keep a straight face. “I dunno, Jordy. It’s a long way to go.”

“It is. But it’s not going to be a short trip.”

I raise my eyebrows at Rosie. “I don’t think you’re allowed to promise me that.”

“No. I’m not. Don’t tell Gwendolyn.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’d really, really love to see you again, Maya. Please?”

“I thought you weren’t going to force me?”

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