Teagan
…"What do I mean to you?" I blurted out, never one to mince words. My cheeks reddened, I could feel them burn, but I kept my eyes on his face.
"Everything," Jordan mumbled, never taking his eyes off the pad he was sketching on. His fingers moved so fast across the paper, so skillfully, as I stared at him, drinking him in.
He looked good, too good for my twin bed he was sitting on – too good not to touch and I was itching to touch him.
His hair was a mess, a sexy mess of curls and his whole body looked entirely too tempting.
God, hormones had officially found me. This was only day three of summer vacation. We had at least another month together. How the heck was I going to cope?
"Everything." I tested the word around and decided that was a great answer. "You really mean that?"
"Of course," he added with a chuckle. "You're my little keychain…"
"This is really good," I muttered to myself as I studied the manuscript in my hands. Uncrossing my legs, I snuggled against the plush cushions on our super-comfy couch, engrossed in my best-friend's latest masterpiece.
…"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" I asked, holding my breath, fearing his answer, hoping he would lie and tell me he was fine because that look in his eyes was petrifying me. He was hurting. I could feel it in the way his hands trembled, I could see it in his eyes. Something was wrong.
"Jordan," I whispered when he didn’t answer.
He didn’t look at me.
Instead, he stared downwards. God, I knew this conversation was going to end badly and if I was Ash, I'd know a number of different tricks to take his mind off his problems, but he wouldn’t let me touch him.
God knows I'd tried…
"Hope, I don't…" he broke off and rubbed his face with his hand. "Just sit with me," he choked out.
Edging closer to me, he bowed his head, rested his knee against mine and shuddered violently. "This is all I can manage," he admitted. "Please don't ask me why."
"I won't," I told him, forcing myself not to throw my arms around him.
I never asked and I never touched.
He would freak out if I did and I needed him close to me. I needed the smell of him in my senses, the weight of his knee against mine. I needed answers.
Dammit…
"I love you, Jordan," I whispered, hoping to god and every angel, star, and whatever the hell was up in the sky that he would open up to me. That today would be the day he would tell me his troubles.
"I'm never gonna be the right guy for you, Hope," he husked, twisting his head to look at me. His green eyes penetrated me, burned me. "You'll figure that out soon enough, but it would be a hell of a lot easier if you'd let me go now. Your dad's right about me…."
…As you can tell I've been in love before, but it was the first kind. The sweet innocent will-never-end kind of love that gently flickers over time but never completely burns out or fades from your heart.
It's a special sort of love really, and sometimes it’s the one that lasts the longest – the only one you remember when you're old and gray and drawing your final breath into your weary lungs.
If I had one wish it would be that I was his…his one love…the one that burned brighter and harder than all the others…the love that lasted the lifetime of the heart it was embedded inside…
This would be Hope's sixth full length novel in seven years and I fully believed this was her best work to date. She self-published a story she'd written back in high-school on a whim and it had been huge. She had been offered a dozen publishing deals since, but she preferred to stay indie. So along with the help of her trusted agent/publicist – aka me – Hope's writing career had gone from strength to strength.
I was also the person who quietly and dutifully changed her latest hero's name from Jordan – because it was always Jordan – without embarrassing her.
With every book Hope spat out her stories became more tragic and profoundly despairing. I knew why this was happening, I only wished I could make it better…
The banging on our flat door startled me and I leapt off the couch. The manuscript I'd been holding in my hand scattered to the floor and I groaned. I hadn’t numbered the pages…
The loud rapping noise continued.
"Hang on," I shouted as I made my way over to the flat door.
She was always doing this – going out for the night and forgetting her keys. Usually I didn’t mind because I was out with her, but tonight I hadn’t felt up to going clubbing. Even though it was the middle of July here in Cork, it was hammering down with rain outside and I'd had more than my fair share of nights gallivanting in the rain to last me a lifetime.
"Hope, I swear to god I am going to tie your key around your bloody…" My voice trailed off the moment I opened the door inwards and caught a glance of Hope's wide-eyed horrified expression.
"What's wrong?" I whispered seconds before she barreled into my arms.
"He's here, Teagan," she choked out, squeezing me so tight I could barely breathe. "In Cork…I saw him – at the club," she slurred. "He's here."
"Who?" I demanded, hugging her tightly. "Who's here, Hope?"
"Noah," she hissed and the ground fell out from underneath my feet.
All the emotions I'd felt when I was seventeen came back full force, smothering my heart and sabotaging my ability to breathe easily. "Oh my god," I choked out.
"You're my thorn, if you leave me I’ll bleed out…"
"And for what it's worth, my in belongs to you…"
"I'm either fighting with you or I'm fucking with you. There's no middle line, Teagan – not between us…"
My throat closed up.
Every emotion and memory of him that I'd spent years forcing into the darkest part of my mind were resurfacing–fucking flooding me…
Noah Messina, the man who stole my heart, the man who shredded it right in front of my eyes.
"He saw me," Hope wailed. "Teagan, he knows you're here."
****
The End.