CHAPTER NINE
WHEN JORDAN TURNED the car into a driveway that led down under a high-rise building situated on the main strip of Sunset, Derek leaned toward the window and craned his head to look up at the towering structure.
“Christ, how many floors are in this building?”
A chuckle came from the man maneuvering his car through the rows of pillars until he turned into what had to be a designated spot, because it was the only one free in that row.
“Twenty-eight.”
“Twenty-eight? Get the fuck out of here. That’s insane.”
“Mhmm,” Jordan agreed. “I know. It seems ridiculous. But I swear the view is totally worth it.”
Derek got out of the car and moved to the trunk to get his bag, and when he shut it he saw Jordan standing over by the path that led to a lit private entrance. “The view from where? The roof?”
As they walked toward the glass doors, Derek automatically opened it and Jordan glanced at him, the expression in his professor’s eyes warm, as though he appreciated the gesture, before it flashed back to neutral.
“Thank you,” Jordan murmured as he passed by and moved toward the only elevator, where he pulled a keycard from his pocket and slipped it into the metallic panel. When the door slid open, Jordan held it and gave a crooked grin, returning Derek’s chivalrous gesture. “After you.”
Derek walked inside the small confines, and when Jordan followed and the door swooshed shut, he was made highly aware of his size. The elevator was narrow, personal in a sense, and the two of them only just fit comfortably together side by side with their arms touching.
He let his eyes move up the panel, expecting to see twenty-eight buttons to choose from, but there was nothing on the walls except the shiny metallic finish of the elevator. High in the right-hand corner was a small screen that seemed a little odd, but before he could get the words out, Jordan said, “It’s a TV screen and camera.”
Derek’s head whipped around so he was facing Jordan, who laughed. “Oh, no need to panic. It’s not currently on.”
Derek frowned. “Why’s it there? And where’s the button for your floor?”
Jordan shifted to rest his back against one side of the elevator. “It’s there for me to see who is stopping by, and there are no buttons because this elevator only goes to my floor.”
Huh? Derek was confused. What did he mean, the elevator only went to his floor? Jordan wasn’t making any sense, but then Derek remembered that the professor was rich. Very fucking rich, apparently.
He opened his mouth, about to ask what floor they were going to, but before any words could come out, the elevator came to a smooth stop and a soft “ding” sounded.
“Here we are,” Jordan announced as the door opened and he pushed off the wall to head out into his condo. “Floor twenty-eight.”
Derek watched Jordan head out into a huge open space, and as he stepped off the elevator to follow, his jaw almost hit the floor.
Oh my fucking God.
The room that spread out in front of him was ridiculous.
As in it looked ridiculously expensive. Derek froze in place, not willing to take a step further in case he happened to break something with his huge feet or duffel bag.
The room was unlike anything he’d ever seen in his life. As far as the eye could see, the cream marble floors that were accented with flecks of brown shone so brightly that they reflected the elaborate chandelier that hung center stage like an art piece. Hell, it probably was. Directly under the light was an U-shaped couch that beautifully complemented the tones of the space. It sat atop a rectangular rug that Derek was positive looked more comfortable than his bed at home.
Jordan tossed his bag on the couch and made his way over to the floor-to-ceiling doors that provided a stunning view of a deck setting fit for a king. There were chaise lounges, a table that was likely designed to be used indoors but had somehow made it to Jordan’s balcony, and, yes, a hot tub and pool at the far end of the balcony. The spread beyond the spacious living room was not only impressive, it was out of this world.
Who lived like this?
Jordan unlatched the doors and shoved them open so the night breeze could filter inside, then he headed into the kitchen to open his fridge and pull out a bottle of wine. When he turned back with a bottle in his hand and two glasses, his eyes found Derek exactly where he’d left him, and he grinned.
“You can come in, you know. Just put your bag there until we can work out all the details.”
Derek’s heart raced at breakneck speed as he looked around the opulent space and shook his head.
This had been a terrible mistake. What was he doing here? This wasn’t where he belonged. This was so not what he’d expected when Jordan had said he could come and crash at his place.
He’d stupidly imagined a cramped room where he could stash his bag and do his homework. Not some playboy penthouse that screamed sex, money, and success. He felt like a fucking failure.
A loser failure that was going to throw up at any moment.
“I don’t think this is such a good idea. I’m just gonna go,” he said as he backed up, and as he went to hightail it out of there, he noticed two tall podiums flanking either side of the elevator, with beautiful bronze sculptures on it that were likely worth more than he would ever hope to make in his life.
Yeah, okay, Derek Pearson does not belong in a place like this.
“Wait,” Jordan said from behind him, and Derek could hear each footfall on the cream tiles as he came closer. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Derek shut his eyes and willed his voice to sound normal as he turned to Jordan, who was looking at him with confusion and worry written all over his face.
“Derek,” he said softly, and reached a hand out to touch him, but suddenly everything about this situation and the reason why Derek was there bubbled to the surface and had him backing up, as if a simple touch would make him fall apart.
“Derek. Let me help you. I want to help you.”
Derek swallowed past the massive lump and shook his head as his eyes flew around the room again. “Why, Jordan?” he asked. “You don’t know me. Hell, for all you know I might rob you blind in the middle of the night.”
Jordan took a cautious step toward him and squeezed his arm. “You’re right. You could. Don’t go for those statues behind you, though—they weigh a ton, and honestly, the silverware in the dining room is worth more and is lighter.”
When Derek’s eyes widened, Jordan squeezed again. “I’m just kidding. Relax. I don’t make it a habit to bring strangers back to my place, but I’m also a pretty good study on people. And yes, you’re right, I don’t know you that well. But I once knew someone like you who was in trouble. Someone who needed a little guidance and help.” He gave a rueful grin and then added, “Someone who was a bit of a punk.”
That made Derek laugh. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” Jordan nodded. “He was a total shit. But someone took him under their wing, and I think he turned out okay.”
Derek contemplated the man watching him with a steady and friendly gaze, and thought how ironic it was that it was the same man he’d expected to despise throughout college.
“I still think he’s a bit of a shit, just for the record.”
Jordan’s grin was blinding as he dropped his hand. “You’re probably right, but now he thinks he can get away with it on the basis of his good looks and charm.”
Derek sighed as he let his eyes drift around the condo again, and he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Just how rich are you?”
Jordan gave a fabulously snotty laugh and flick of his wrist. “Beyond your wildest imagination, dahling.”
Derek scoffed. “You’re a little unbalanced, aren’t you?”
“No. I’m very well adjusted. Just spoiled rotten. But at least I admit it.”
Derek’s lips twitched. He knew that Jordan was purposefully overexaggerating to ease the tension that’d been in the room.
“Think you can put up with that?” Jordan asked, his eyebrow raised in challenge.
Was he kidding? This place was a fucking palace. If anything, Derek felt weird just being here in the first place. Who was he to say if Jordan should act one way or another?
“Yeah…I think I can manage. But only if you’re sure.”
Jordan took on a serious tone that belied his earlier frivolousness. “I am. Of course, we’ll need to set up some ground rules. The first of which will be no smoking in or on the premises of the Palisades, Mr. Marlboro Man. Capiche?”
Derek dumped the duffel on the floor and nodded. “Got it.”
“Second, no strange men in my house. You want to hook up or fuck someone, you do it at their place, in a club, or hell, at the library.”
“Are you serious?”
Jordan nodded. “As a heart attack.”
“You’re giving me permission to fuck someone in the stacks at school? Good to know, professor. Can you write me a note just in case I get caught with my pants around my ankles?”
Jordan walked backward into his living room and shrugged. “Better at school than a stranger in my place. Like you said, I’m rich—”
“And modest,” Derek added, finally moving forward, following Jordan into the living space.
When they got to the couch, Derek could see around the corner, where a narrow room housed an elaborate dining table set for eight. It was stunning in its sleek simplicity of a black tabletop and comfortable-looking white lounge chairs surrounding it.
“No. I never claimed to be modest,” Jordan said as he flounced down into the plush couch, kicked his shoes off, and then curled his legs up under him. “I’m rich. My parents are rich, and I don’t want some random hookup of yours traipsing through my belongings as he sneaks out in the middle of the night. So sue me.”
Derek took a seat at the opposite end of the couch and cocked his head to the side. “Assuming it would always be a random.”
“Oh, please. Are you trying to tell me you have a boyfriend tucked up your sleeve? I’ve seen you shaking your ass half-naked at Boyz, Derek Pearson. And there hasn’t been anybody regular dancing with you. So don’t pretend.”
Caught totally off guard by the fact Jordan had been paying such close attention, Derek felt his face heat, and Jordan started laughing hysterically at him.
“I’m sorry, was the fact you dance at a gay club supposed to be a secret? I know you always make a wild dash for cover when I show up, but I’ve seen you there. White short shorts, tattoos all over. You’re pretty hard to miss.”
“Um…” He paused, and then Jordan flashed a wide gotcha grin at him and Derek glowered. “You’re being an ass on purpose, aren’t you?”
Jordan gave a playful wink and leaned forward to open the wine. “Payback’s a bitch, right? I can be too, but I try to keep that for the people who really deserve it.” He handed a glass of Merlot to Derek and then leaned back into his couch again. “I was also trying to get your mind off how bomb-ass my place is. Did it work?”
Derek laughed at Jordan’s over-the-top attitude, but nodded. “Yeah, it did.”
“See, there’s a method to my madness. Not just madness.”
Derek took a sip of his wine, feeling like a bit of a buffoon with his big hands and the tiny glass. “I don’t think you’re mad at all,” he said, surprising himself with his sincerity. “I actually think you’re kind of amazing.”
Jordan’s playful attitude sobered in an instant, and he gave Derek a serious look. The expression made Derek’s heart skip, and he wondered if Jordan felt the pull the same way he did. His question was soon answered when Jordan sat forward and placed his glass on the coffee table. He then turned to face Derek and said with the utmost sincerity, “I have to be clear about one thing here, Derek. I won’t get involved with you. Not in any way beyond friends.”
Feeling like a fucking idiot for his moment of honesty, Derek shot to his feet and cursed. What was he thinking saying that out loud? Way to make a guy feel uncomfortable, he thought, as he headed back to his bag where it lay by the elevator. He pushed the down button, hoping it would open up and swallow him whole, then Jordan’s fingers touched his arm and he stepped up beside him.
“Hey, don’t go. That’s not what I meant.”
Derek looked down at Jordan, and with his shoes off and a wine glass in his hand, he looked…well… Oh, fuck it. The guy looked gorgeous.
“I just wanted to be clear that this is merely a platonic arrangement. That I don’t expect you to pay in”—Jordan frowned and then shrugged—“other ways.”
“You mean like sex? Are you trying to tell me I don’t have to let you fuck me to stay?”
“Derek,” Jordan grumbled, and whacked his arm.
“Well, are you?”
Jordan gave him a pointed look. “Yes. I guess if you want to be crude about it. I’m just saying that this is merely a landlord and tenant situation, and at college, a student and professor one.”
Derek nodded and faced him. “Got it. And in there anywhere, are we friends?”
Jordan gave a long-suffering sigh and drained his wine glass. “Well, I guess. I will have to see you every day. Now can you please stop bolting for the door every time things don’t go your way?”
“Sure,” Derek agreed, and dropped his bag to head back through the living room and toward a long, narrow hallway Jordan was walking down.
“So just to clarify, that means we will be sleeping in separate bedrooms…right?”
Jordan smirked as he looked over his shoulder. “Smartass.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to be crystal clear and not misunderstand anything, landlord.”
“I sleep in there.” Jordan pointed to an enormous room with floor-to-ceiling doors that were opened to a closet that someone could, in all likelihood, go missing in.
Derek whistled. “Impressive, emperor, and where do the commoners sleep?”
Jordan laughed, and the sound was free and easy, the best fucking noise Derek had heard all day.
“You, lowly peon, may choose from the six spare rooms available.”
“Six?”
“Yes, six.”
“Okay, how about you just point me in the direction of one and I’ll take it.”
Jordan’s grin was cheeky as he walked ahead of Derek with what he could’ve sworn was added swing to his hips. “I do like a man who doesn’t mind being told what to do.”
And yeah, fuck him, this friendship business was going to be a goddamn challenge. Likely one of the hardest he’d ever face, if his eager cock had any say in the matter.