Freshman year of high school, dating someone became "cool" so—of course— everyone found someone to hook up with. The goal seemed to be to make it look like you were the one tied down in the relationship— then you "won" the dating game.
"Ew. Chad? No way," Stacey Tussaud had said, wrinkling her nose when we asked her thoughts on the boy. "Not my cup of tea."
"Then who? Darrien?" Quinn asked, intent on proving her matchmaker skills by pairing the new girl with someone worthy.
"Darrien... Why not?" Stacey replied nonchalantly, smirking. "I wouldn't say no to him, if that's what you mean."
And sure enough, the two were dating a few days later. Quinn was ecstatic having proved her ability, turning on me.
"Now what do you like in a man, Stell?" she had asked, trying Stacey's nickname for me since the letter 'a' seemed to be too much to type on a phone. "I would have paired you with Calum, but you stubbornly refuse to admit your love so the next best thing..."
A week later I had hooked up with Chad and we were going to the dance together. I know— the idiot was as pompous and arrogant then as he is now, if not more. The key words would be "hooked up"— Chad Lasker had his sights set on me since the beginning of the year and he was relentless, so when he asked me to the homecoming dance that year I didn't turn him down.
"We didn't click" was the excuse we gave to everyone, and it was true. Chad must have felt it too— the awkward distance I held him at, the hesitance before every kiss. He was to full of depthless compliments and unfounded hubris, and he wisely didn't pursue me again. He's better now, with Stacey's critical personality to keep his ego from swelling too much, but they had dated more out of mutual need than of actual feelings. Stacey had broken down after Darrien abruptly dropped her.
"Like trash," he had said smugly as he walked away, another girl on his arms. "'cuz you're not good enough for me."
Chad, a sophomore at the time, had been her prince charming, swooping her off the ground and away from the crowds. Although he wasn't always reliable, the two try their best to make things work even through the flings and failures.
Quinn went to two dances with Jeremy, a sophomore, that year. They had continued their shaky on-and-off relationship through high school, but I think it was more a mutual need for a date then there was actual feelings. The fiasco ended when Jeremy graduated and went abroad— Britain, I think, although I could be wrong. There was just too many problems and so little commitment for it to drag on, so the two of them let it fizzle out.
Karen wisely didn't hook up with anyone. She led our group to the dances that we chose to go stag to, little social rebellions or whims that we had on some days. Calum actually asked her to most of the dances freshman and sophomore year, but more so sophomore year. There was a mutual understanding between both groups— Calum and mine— that they had no affection for each other and both were willing to stand in for each other when need be. Calum told me that she was "down to earth," shrugging when I asked him what hehad meant.
---
The deafening roar of heavy beats greeted me as I entered the club. It was Sunday night, and I had nothing better to do, so here I was.
None of the girls had finished studying, but they came along anyways. In fact, most of the crew had— excluding Tim, the last-minute studybug, Hunter and Whitney, who were both unavailable for unknown reasons, and Calum who was also studying.
Quinn screamed something at me, grabbing me and Karen. I couldn't hear her clearly, but it was clear from the way she was trying to drag us down to the dance floor that she wanted to dance. Stacey was already down on the floor with Chad, grinding and swaying to the beat among the masses as we made our way down.
"Ste—" Karen screamed, mouthing words that were lost in the music.
"What?" I shouted back, trying to move closer so I could hear her, but a entangled couple was blocking my path as bodies moved closer and closer towards me.
"Watch ou—"
THUD
A body slammed into me, knocking me off balance. Unfortunately, since tripping in stilettos was the same thing as falling, down I went until a strong pair of arms caught me.
"You'll do," a grey-eyed boy muttered as a he hoisted me up, setting me down and kissing me simultaneously. His lips mashed down on mine, hard and hot. I barely had time to react before he pulled away, disoriented by the sequence of events.
"Bored, Rachel, you get it now? I'm bored and I'm moving on. There's nothing you have left to offer me, so just get over it," the guy said, staring fiercely at a curvy brunette who looked equally if not more furious. It was dark and I couldn't quite make out distinct features, but I could tell that he was the type of guy girls would fall head-over-heels for. Chiseled jawline and all.
"You asshole! I hope you get your heart ripped out and shredded one day!" she screamed before giving me a hard glare and pushing past me, purposely bumping into my shoulder as she passed.
"Sorry 'bout that," the guy said, letting me go and checking my shoulder for an injury. His leaned in close, trying to make out a bruise before stepping back and looking me over. "That was a misunderstanding of sorts, but it's all settled now. So, can I get you a drink?"
I gaped at him, not knowing what to say. Did he really think that after slamming into me, kissing me, and letting his ex get mad at me, I would just say "Sure, I'd love a drink!"? And did he just break up with a girl and pick one up at the same time?
"If you explain what just happened and turn out not to be the person I think you are right now," I responded, still recovering from the previous events. This— this black-haired, grey-eyed leather-clad asshole had just tripped me, saved me from falling down, and kissed me in less than a minute. Frankly, I was both shocked and impressed by his skills.
"A pretty face with a brain— I'm liking you more and more," the guy said with a dimpled smile. "Jordan Brooks, you?"
"Stella Reyes," I introduced before my brain could smack me senseless.
Great. Just great. Jordan Brooks— motorcycle-riding playboy and the renowned 'bad boy' senior of our school who I had last seen making out shamelessly with Amy in front of the locker rooms even though the girl who he just broke up with wasn't her— had just tripped me, kissed me and said that he was interested in me.
"Stella Reyes? Like the Stella Reyes, cheer captain and two-year homecoming queen?" he asked, gaping before quickly recovering himself with a smirk. "Nice. So about that drink."
---
I woke up groggy and disoriented, enveloped in a pair of strong arms. The clock read six twenty-three when I finally figured out where I was and what had happened.
Quietly, I shifted Jordan's arms and slid onto the floor, slipping on my clothes and making to leave. The zipper on my dress was torn, which was both typical and surprising since I wasn't drunk last night. I traded it for a shirt from his closet— guys like Jordan and Calum always had an abundance of shirts in case the girl left with one in the morning, and I'll be one of those girls when the guy shreds my clothes.
Conflicted about how to tie things up, I decided that the best thing to do would be to simply write a note for him, and I did so with the pen and paper I found in his drawer.
Nice meeting you, Brooks.
-Reyes
I laid it under his clock and made my way to the door. Before reaching for the handle, I glanced back and was amazed by how beautiful Jordan looked. His lips were slightly parted as he breathed in and out slowly, his chiseled chest rising and falling with each breath. While the blinds were shut, I was sure that he would look like a demigod bathed in the light.
Finally laying my hand on the handle, I twisted it open and was greeted by a pair of amber eyes staring up at me curiously. It took me about two seconds to realize that the fuzzy shape in front of me was in fact a living, breathing dog, and that was all the time the malamute needed to start barking.
"Rruff!" the dog barked again as I crouched down and shushed it, trying to make it understand that I needed it not to wake Jordan. Unfortunately, the dog continued barking and it didn't take long for Jordan to wake.
"Kia, calm down," Jordan groaned as he rolled over and rubbed his eyes blearily. Seeing that I was already up, he frowned and reached for his clothes. "Were you going to leave without saying anything?"
"I left a note on the table," I said, not getting what he was trying to say. Surely he had girls leave before the morning— anyone who didn't was asking for too much or simply trying to get a free meal.
Hearing my words, he looked over and lifted the note I wrote, giving it a once-over before looking at me incredulously.
"'Nice meeting you'? That's all you're going to leave?" he asked, confusing me. What was he trying to say? That I should have wrote more for him?
"Did you want me to tell you that the sex was good? Because it was, and I didn't think you needed me to tell you that," I said halfheartedly. In all honesty, it hadn't been the best night I'd had, but it had been one of the better ones.
"No I just—" Jordan said before cutting himself off. He looked confused for a split second before he recovered himself with his trademark smirk. "I just thought that I would be worth more than that."
"Don't kid yourself, Brooks," I said, smirking right back. "We both know that's not how it works."
"What if I don't want this to be how it works?" he asked, closing the distance between us. Taking a step back, I found myself cornered between him and the wall.
"Brooks—"
"Reyes," he responded, nuzzling my head.
Closing my eyes, I basked in his attention. His chest was pressed against me, his arms on either side of my body to support him as he leaned down and kissed me, yet I still found myself thinking of Calum. Cal. His depthless, blue eyes that sparkled with mirth when he laughed— his frown as he pursed his lips when he was deep in thought.
"No," I said, breaking away from the kiss and pushing him away from me.
"Wha— Why?" Jordan asked, brows scrunched. But how could I tell him that I was thinking of another person while he was kissing me? Telling him was the same as insulting him and during a one-night stand, there was no reason to do either.
"We sucked lips enough last night," I told him, heading for the door again. "See'ya later, Brooks."
---
Bzzzz
My phone buzzed with yet another text from the self-titled "Sex God". Seriously, the nerve of this guy after one one-night stand.
'Hey babe, whatcha doing?'— Sex God
Reading the text, I groaned and lifted myself off my side to type properly. It was Friday afternoon and, since I had no classes and nothing to do, I was treating myself to a Netflix marathon. On my flatscreen. In bed. Alone. I will not be disturbed, especially not by some self-proclaimed "Sex God"
'Trying to tune u out' I texted back, hoping that he'd take the hint and buzz off. Unfortunately, Sex God is a fast responder.
'Aw, don't be shy babe'— Sex God
Rolling my eyes at his line, I grabbed my phone and typed a response before muting it and tossing it to the side to continue my show.
'I'm not shy. It's just that Netflix is a lot more lovable than u are. Take a hint.'
Halfway through the next episode, realized that I hadn't checked my phone and picked it up. I had received 6 new texts from Jordan with the last one from three minutes ago.
'wth? Netflix? Over me?'
'Plz. Netflix?'
'Babe c'mon, r u ignoring me?'
'baaaabeeeee'
':('
'Tell me what show at least— it better be good too'
Since the poor guy had tried so hard, I'll indulge him and throw him a bone.
'"Charades"— you heard of it? It's not very popular but it has promise'
Seconds later, a response came.
'That show IS good. I watch it too— Bronte is HOT.'
I chuckled
'That's the only reason why you watch it isn't it?' I typed back. Of course Bronte was hot— she was the newest A-list celeb who was all the rave because she could both sing and act. Amazing personality and Harvard grad? Count me in.'
'Yes and no. The show's pretty amazing on it's own, but Bronte makes it that much better. But btwn u and her? I'd say u'
His text made me cock an eyebrow— Bronte was arguably my favorite actress, being both beautiful and successful. She was like my idol, and I was nowhere near her level.
'Sweet talk won't work when I'm drooling over Bronte, Brooks'
'Who said I was sweet talking, Reyes?'
His text made me pause for a split second— what was he trying to say? That he was serious?
'Brooks, I've met enough boys like u to know that ur not serious'
The response was an obvious one-liner.
'But what if I was?'
I laughed when it came since it was so predictable. The boy hooks the girl with a glorious "what-if" and the girl latches on like her life depends on it. Pitiful— Jordan was underestimating me if he was going to group me with airheads.
'Then I'd tell u to get ur act together and walk away'
I watched a few more episodes after that, since Jordan's end was awfully quiet. He probably went out again.
He did pique my interest— what if he were serious? The answer was so sad, so definite.
No.
---
Author's note:
Hi everyone! Hope you liked Jordan Brooks ;)
Vote and comment to let me hear your thoughts, and thank you @mariexhood for the lovely cover :)
—Littlewhims