Page 43 of Crossing the Brooklyn Briggs
But there’s a part of me that longs for him to be more than that. To be the guy who looks after me when I’m hurt. Who sees when I’m feeling down and tries to fix it. Who doesn’t waste his breath on useless compliments but makes me feel special and important anyway. That part of me wants to think that when he told me last night that he was going to show me how to be loved, he meant it.
I’m still not sure why he reacts so much to my touch, but after the weekend I’ve had so far, I don’t want to be logical. I want to think he senses some sort of connection between us just like I do and is brave enough to see what that might mean.
I want to think that when he looks at me like I’m the most amazing woman he’s ever known, it’s not just for show.
Once I’m washed, beautified, and changed into a cute pair of shorts and a t-shirt from my favorite band from the 2000s, I limp out the door and slowly make my way up the steps and peek out at the lawn.
Jordan has moved on to the lawn mower. He makes his way around the little yard, and the sight is just as delicious as I was hoping. He wears a pair of basketball shorts—hello, calf muscles—and a loose tank top that shows off every curve of his arms. He was always strong from the baseball team workouts, and though I never said it out loud, I always admired him in those baseball pants.
But adult Jordan? He is all things smooth and ridged, each line of his body showcasing the strength beneath his skin.
He pauses, lifting up the bottom of his tank to wipe the sweat from his face, and I scramble to take a picture. I know it’s creepy, and I hate myself a little for it, but the man’s abs deserve to be immortalized.
After a moment of admiring the picture, I send it off to Jaydin with a stupid caption:I think I understand women’s obsession with their gardeners. It takes a couple of tries to get it to send, but I manage it eventually and am proud of myself when my friend replies immediately.
Jaydin: Um, who is THAT?
Me: My gardener, obviously.
Jaydin: Since when do you have a gardener? And why are you going after Mark when you’ve got that hunk of meat within reach?
Jordan brings the lawn mower closer to where I’m sitting and shuts it off. Guess I wasn’t hiding all that well. Grinning, he plops down at the top of the steps next to me and stretches his arms over his head.
I’m probably drooling. I almost don’t care.
“Obsessed with me, huh?” he says.
My heart skips a beat, and I scramble to turn my screen back on to check my texts. Sure enough, my first attempt at sending the picture to Jaydin ended up sending toJordan. I drop my face into my hands. “What are the chances the earth might swallow me whole so I can die of embarrassment?”
“Slim to none, probably.”
“I promise I don’t usually objectify men,” I mutter, peeking at him.
He’s grinning as always. “Just me, then?”
“How did you even see that text? You were mowing.”
He holds out his watch, which is of the smart variety that I have never considered buying. I can’t even imagine the nightmare that would be my life with technology attached to my wrist. “Honestly, I’m impressed you managed to get a clear picture so quickly. I’m more proud than anything.”
I groan. “How are you so good at letting nothing bother you?”
Shrugging, he settles his hands behind him and leans back, showing off that lean torso of his. “I’ve learned that life is so much better if you let things roll off you. I shouldn’t change who I am or how I live because of someone else’s opinion, but they’re welcome to think what they want.” He gestures toward me. “You can think I’m super attractive, but—”
“Whoa, no one saidsuperattractive.” I certainly thought it, though.
Jordan chuckles. “Fine. You can think I’mincrediblyattractive, but that’s just your opinion. It doesn’t change who I am.”
I cock my head. “Why do I feel like this is turning into a life lesson?”
“Because it is. Yeah, your old company was the equivalent of an overdraft bank fee, but no matter what they decided about you, you can’t let it affect you. Your value comes from you and you alone.”
I understand what he’s saying, and I badly want to believe it. But if I had value, surely someone would have seen it by now. I wouldn’t be spending my weekends alone in a dark basement, grading labs while watching movies about eras long past and wishing for my own Mr. Knightley to come along. I would be finding a cure to cancer so I could save people from the heartache I went through, and then I would come home to a guy who makes me smile more than he makes me hurt.
I should probably change the conversation before I get sucked into one of Jordan’s lessons again. I don’t need to be confessing all of my past regrets to him. “Where do you come up with these insults of yours?” I ask.
He narrows his eyes, like he knows exactly why I’m deflecting, but then he shakes his head. “I don’t like being mean to people, but sometimes they deserve my ire. I thought maybe getting creative would be a middle ground between taking the high road and calling them what I really think they are.”
That shouldn’t make me more attracted to him, but it does. Okay, let’s be real. At this point, everything is attractive, and that makes me all sorts of concerned. What am I supposed to do with this attraction if not channel it into something that will only lead to disaster?
