Page 29 of Crossing the Brooklyn Briggs
The fact that Jordan remembers my dress when the only interaction we had that night was a single dance after we were crowned has me feeling…unsteady.
Jordan gives me a soft smile and then turns off the truck. “You may not believe it,” he says quietly, “but there are guys out there who actually pay attention. Hopefully Mark is one of them.”
I don’t really have a response to that, though I wish I did. Jordan knowing my dating history as well as he does—I wouldn’t be surprised if Houston has told him about post-high school boyfriends—makes me squeamish. His opinion of Mark shouldn’t matter, but it does. And I really don’t like that.
Hoping to change the subject, I look out the window to get my first good look at the restaurant. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard Mark talk about this place.”
Jordan chuckles as he slips out of the truck. “Why am I not surprised?” he asks when he opens my door. “Come on, cripple. It’s teaching time.”
I don’t move. “There’s no way I can go in there looking like this.” I gesture to my leggings and the flip flops I’m wearing because they were the only shoes that would fit with my foot looking like an old balloon. Even if he’s in jeans, Jordan at least put on a semi-nice shirt and looks way better than I do. I look like I just rolled out of bed.
Rolling his eyes, Jordan reaches into the truck and pulls me into his arms like I’m a toddler. “You’ll be fine, Queens.”
I grumble. He’s not going to take no for an answer. “At least let me get on your back.”
Setting me on the truck’s step, Jordan quickly maneuvers me onto his back like he’s done this a million times, and I have to wonder how many women he’s carried around. Not that I care.
“Second rule of flirting,” Jordan says as he heads into the restaurant. “The more you stroke a man’s ego, the more he’ll want to keep talking to you.”
I cringe when the hostess gives us a dirty look, like me being immobile has personally offended her. “I know how to make a man interested,” I whisper.
“Table for two?” the hostess says haughtily.
“Preferably in a quieter section of the restaurant,” Jordan replies. “My date got a concussion yesterday.”
He must give her one of his potent smiles because she turns a pretty pink and smiles right back. “I’ll see what I can do. Wait here.”
Jordan adjusts his hold on me, though he could easily put me down while we wait. “I agree you know how to capture a man’s interest,” he says, continuing our conversation, “but that doesn’t mean you know how to invokedesire. There’s a difference between catching notice and capturing attention. Unless you want Mr. Math to be like every other guy and leave you when he gets bored, you need to learn the art of finesse. Reel him in until he’s good and hooked and can’t picture life without you.”
I understand what he’s saying, and I know he’s trying to help. But my mind latches on to one word in particular, leaving me feeling dizzy and nauseous.Bored.Is that why no guys have stuck around? I’m boring? I don’t actually need an answer to that question because I already know. I watch old movies and study textbooks, and I spend more time in my dark little basement by myself than I should. Houston took all the interesting genes, leaving me with nothing tokeepa man’s interest.
That must be why Mark hasn’t shown any interest before now. He’s seen enough over the last few years to know I’m not worth his time. Despite biochemistry being my best subject, I’m not skilled enough to make it in the research world on my own, so what do I really have to offer a man?
“Right this way,” the hostess says when she returns with another bright smile for Jordan and more of a smirk for me. Not sure what I did to earn her dislike, but I’m going to blame the outfit Jordan picked out. Just to make myself feel a little better.
Jordan helps me into my chair and then settles in his own seat looking right at home in a fancy restaurant. The only time I ever go out to eat is when my siblings do something together, but I can picture Jordan spending a lot of his time out on the town. Then again, he’s pretty skilled in the kitchen, so maybe not?
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks as the hostess leaves to get our waitress.
I wish I knew what my face was doing. “Like what?”
He chuckles. “Like you’re mad at me for calling this a date? Or maybe like you’re trying to decide if it’s worth crawling out of here and leaving me behind. You’re hard to read right now, which is why I asked.”
“Neither of those things,” I admit. “Though, this is not a date.” I can’t even imagine what Houston would think if the two of us actually went on a date. My brother knows how much we annoyed each other back in high school, so he generally tried to keep us apart. Besides, Jordan is Hou’s best friend. Hisonlyfriend. I would never want to make things awkward for him by changing the status quo.
“What if it were, though?” Jordan asks.
My stomach does a flip. “What?”
Throwing his head back, Jordan laughs like I just said the world’s funniest joke. “Okay, wow, I guess I didn’t need my ego. It’s fine if you think being on a date with me is that horrific. Relax, Queens. I just meant you should pretend you’re on a date with Michael.”
“Oh.”
“Hi, welcome to La Bella, can I get any drinks started for—oh hey, aren’t you Micah’s sister?”
Still off kilter from momentarily thinking Jordan might want to be on a date with me, I can barely process what the waitress just said. “Huh?”
She’s similar in age to Micah, and the name on her name tag—Kinley—sounds familiar, so Micah has probably talked about her. Micah talks about a lot of people though, mostly because she has a new date every other night, so at this point all the names I’ve heard have blurred together.
