Page 83 of Make You Love Me
Clark:No. Limping along without you. I meant for dinner.
Clark:Interested?
“Who are you texting so early?” Jordan’s groggy voice registers, and I plaster on a smile, though I don’t feel it.
“No one. And it’s nearly noon.” I busy myself by picking up the remaining pieces of clothing, bottles, and wine glasses to make the place look less like a frat house after a party.
“What does Superman want?”
I straighten in surprise, an awkward load of clothes and dishes shifting in my arms.
“Why would you jump immediately to Henry?”
“Because you were smiling the same way as when you were with him yesterday. Did he ask you out again?”
After setting the glasses in the sink by the door, I dump the clothes on the desk nearby. “I’m not having this conversation.”
“You should go.”
The last thing I want to do is talk about Henry with the man I may or may not have feelings for and may or may not have slept with last night. The same guy who mended my heart with his tenderness only to ship me off to another man shortly after. What the hell?
“Who wouldn’t want to go out with Superman, Clark Kent, or Henry Cavill’s stunt double slash doctor?” he drones on. “He’s the total package.”
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, frustration weighing on every syllable. “Especially after last night?”
He pulls himself up to lean against the headboard, his hands folding calmly in his lap. “What happened last night, Nora?”
My head pounds with a new frustration as he stares me down. No emotion. No window into his thoughts. “I don’t fucking know what happened. Everything after we left the bar is a blur. Are you happy?”
“Guess we both have gaps in our memories now. But I remember every detail. Want me to summarize it for you?”
“No. I just want to get out of here. I’m hungover, I feel out of control, and this thing with you…it’s…”
“It’s what, Nora?”
Wetness stinging my eyes is the final straw. Crumbling to the floor, I spin to drop my back to the foot of the bed and my face into my hands.
“Confusing,” I finally say through the tears. “You’re confusing.”
The bed springs groan and squeak under his shifting weight. I hear him limp past me to the desk and slip on his shirt. The rustling sounds grow louder before his hands land on my legs. Opening my eyes, I find him wrapped in the sheet from the waist down, sitting with both his legs stretched out on either side of me.
“I asked you to go out with Henry because I don’t want you to have regrets.”
“Regrets?”
“Things feel different between us, Nora, and nothing makes me happier, whether we’re friends or more.” He grins but refuses to look at me. “If we grow into more from this do-overexercise, I need to be confident that you’re choosing me over everyone else. That you won’t be looking back and wondering what if.”
“Jordan, are you going to do this every time a man pays me attention?”
“I don’t know. We’re not at a place yet where I can trust what you say you’re feeling.”
My legs drop to the side, weakened by his confession. He doesn’t trust that I won’t toss him aside when commitment knocks on the door again. And he has every right not to.
“Go out with him and see if you feel anything. If you don’t, then we’ll have crossed the first hurdle.”
“Do you not want to be with me?” I ask, not meaning for those words to escape.
“I do. More than I want air to breathe. But it’s not enough. We’ve tried a relationship, and it didn’t work out. I don’t want to make the same mistakes.” He looks out the window, deep in thought.
