Page 33 of Fortunate Misfortune
It’s been a year since the last time I heard Jordan’s voice, and it wasn’t even really him. It was his voicemail message after declining my fifth call.
“Rory.” His breathing is labored, leaning against the black Mustang parked beside Flintstone. “I’ve been calling your name for like three minutes. Could’ve waited for me, you know?”
Other than the lack of loose black curls that used to bounce in the wind, Jordan looks the same. Deep-brown skin glitters in the sunlight. His eyes are so dark that they sparkle. I used to think it was beauty. Now I know it’s arrogance.
“Wait for you?” Flintstone beeps as the doors unlock. “I wouldn’t have waited if I had heard you.”
From three feet away, I’m already choking on the sour smell of his cologne. When he steps forward, I reel backwards and press myself against my car. He holds his hands up in a way that tells me to chill out. To relax.
Absolutely not.
“I just want to talk, Rory.”
“Stop calling me that,” I bite through clenched teeth. I hate it even more than Edwards. “You can’t just pop up and corner me into a conversation.”
“But I miss you,” he coos, using that sweet voice that used to make me melt. It makes my skin crawl now. “I’ve been trying to talk to you, but you blocked me over something so small. It was one night, Rory! A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see my favorite band. I thought you would understand that.”
I scoff. “Once in a… are you kidding me? You’ve seen them live four times, Jordan!Four!” I drop my voice to a whisper. “I begged you to skip the concert to stay with me, and you wouldn’t.”
I had known something was wrong for a while. I was sleeping more, drinking more water, and using the restroom more often. The only thing trending down was my weight.
Fast.
For a year I fought to forget what happened the night we broke up, and it all comes rushing back to me like it was yesterday. Each wave is more nauseating and painful than the last.
“I told you I needed to get to the hospital, and you told me to drive. I was scared, sick as hell, and couldn’t even depend on my own boyfriend. The one time you didn’t forward my call, you told me to stop being insane and hung up on me.”
After sending me to voicemail for the fifth time I knew it was over between us.
Like I’m a pet, he claps to stop me from talking. “Come on. You’re making this a bigger deal than it was. You ended a great relationship over nothing. One minor issue and you ran for the hills.”
“I could have died!” The wind carries my voice through the parking lot, the seriousness of that night ringing in the air. I bet the people in the training room can hear me, and I don’t care. “You really have the nerve to call thatnothing? You promised you’d always be there for me and disappeared the second I needed you!”
He frowns, as if he’s just now realizing how serious that night was. “Okay, but it’s been over a year! Can’t you move past this? I love you, Rory, and I know you still love me.”
Even now he can’t apologize. Taking ownership of his actions has never been his strong suit.
When we started dating, Shay called him Mr. Perfect. There wasn’t a single thing he seemed to do wrong. He brought me flowers, stayed up with me while I studied, charmed the pants off everyone we met, and came to every game like a supportive boyfriend.
The cracks in his perfect exterior started to appear after eight months together. No matter what happened, it was never his fault. He forgot to pick up dinner? I didn’t remind him. He overslept and missed class? I should have woken him up. He didn’t pass a test? I shouldn’t have distracted him.
I was the one who apologized. The one who mended fences that should have been left to rot.
As scary as that night was, it saved me from wasting any more time in that relationship. I should’ve left earlier, and I have my diabetes diagnosis to thank for giving me the wake up call I needed to leave him and his shitty behavior behind.
“I don’t love you, Jordan.”
“You do,” the delusional asshole says. “That’s why you’re upset with me after all this time. You want to hate me so badly, but I know you, Rory. Better than you know yourself. You still love me.”
The taste of vomit touches my tongue when he grins. It’s ugly and mean and twisted. And it’s so close to me now, filling my vision with only him. In my blind rage, I must have missed when he closed the gap. There’s almost no space between us.
Move,I think, but nothing happens.
I’m absolutely sure it’s not love or missing him that’s keeping me grounded. It’s fear. Fear that this won’t be the last time he corners me. Fear that this is only the beginning of Jordan trying to re-enter my life.
He thinks one night was the reason I broke up with him, but he’s wrong. It was the nail in the coffin. Jordan went from Mr. Perfect to Mr. Absent in those last few months. Missing my games. Forgetting my birthday. Postponing date nights until I stopped planning them completely. Giving me the silent treatment when things didn’t go his way. Calling me crazy when I tried to explain my feelings. Being jealous when Ispent time with Cade. Losing his shit when I competed against Kenneth for the Brain Bowl.
Then he left me alone with no way to the hospital.
