Definitely, Maybe, Sometimes. | ✔️ COMPLETED

Chapter Ten

We are six days into my first week of Uni. Six days post-Freshers. Six days after Jordan Nickleson said he would date me (as friends).

Almost one whole week.

And absolutely nothing has happened.

It's been boring. Normal. I've gone to my first few lectures, had cheerleading practice twice (once where Reign almost kicked my teeth out, but we're not allowed to talk about it.)

We went to a pub quiz on Thursday where Jordan and I giggled the whole way through and provided absolutely zero value to our team.

Now it's Saturday night and still... nothing. I don't know what I had expected? Wooing of some sort, I suppose. Is that what people do? I've never dated before. I've only got Laurens (probably wildly made up) stories and what I've watched on TV, to go on.

Jordan hasn't mentioned it since even though he still brings me my morning coffee. Which, I suppose to some that could be classed as wooing; but given the context Jordan and I, it's decidedly not.

We still spend all our waking moments together. Yesterday, he walked past my room in nothing but a towel and I could feel my mouth get dry as I watched droplets of water slide down his back. I don't particularly notice when Rory or Nate walk past in their towel. But when Jordan does it? It's a special form of torture. 

The way he looks at me sends my heart into a frenzy. When he's too close to me I still can't control my breathing. I don't think the way I react (or obsess) about him is normal, but no one else knows so I don't particularly care.

If I'm completely honest, I'm starting to care less if people were to know how I feel about him. It's like I'm going to combust if I have to keep putting a lid on all these emotions.

"Up." Reign demands, sauntering into our halls.

I'm lying on the sofa in the common room watching Misfits. I look at her without moving. We have no plans tonight, everyone is hungover from last night and I don't want to move.

"Autumn. Get up."

Begrudgingly I sit up, "Why?"

"I need to get you ready."

I frown. "For what?"

"I dunno. Jordan told me to help get you ready, I thought you'd know."

I sight up straighter. "I do not. But he's got a project I said I'd help him with."

She gives me a knowing look. "Does that project include someone's pee-pee going in a certain someones va-jay-jay?"

"No!" I protest. "He's writing an article about the best places for students to date in Oxford."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "With you? So, you're dating?"

"No. We're friends going out for meals and stuff."

"Which is dating?"

"If you and I went for dinner, would it be dating?"

"I dunno." Reign shrugs. "Do you want to shag me the way you want to shag Jordan?"

I give her a long look. "You're pretty hot."

"Shut up," She laughs. "And get up. We're getting you ready for this date."

It's not really a date. Any of the fake-dates we go on aren't real dates, are they? That's what I keep telling myself. Besides, it's a form of self-preservation to believe they're not real. I have no doubt that if all our dates go terribly, Jordan will survive just fine. I'm not sure the same can be said of me.

As Reign sits me down in my room, pulling out my hair curlers, my phone pings and I immediately unlock it.

JORDAN NICKLESON: Are you getting ready?

AUTUMN SUMMERS: Sorry, you've reached an incorrect number.

JORDAN NICKLESON: Har-bloody-har. Are you getting ready?

AUTUMN SUMMERS: Yes. Would be helpful to know what exactly for though?

I watch as the little typing bar stays up for an agonising amount of time, then it disappears. I stare, but it doesn't return. A sort of frustrated strangling sound escapes from my throat.

Point one for his article; if you're going to take a girl on a surprise date; at least tell her some kind of dress code.

What if I wear heels with no socks and he takes me bowling? What if I wear leggings and he takes me to a fancy restaurant? I should at least have some idea of how to look.

"You have long hair." Reign says whilst her hands move, almost as an afterthought.

"Thanks?" I say.

"It's a bit wild, though. Do you even brush it?"

"Of course I do."

"If you say so."

An hour later, at exactly 5:50p.m., with me dressed in a nice lacy top, mum jeans and trainers, my phone buzzes again.

JORDAN NICKLESON: DOWNSTAIRS.

I grab my things, give Reign a kiss on her cheek and practically sprint out the door.

Stood outside our block, leaning against the wall, one foot propped up with his leg bent is Jordan. He looks like something from a poster. Movie-star good looking.

I know I'd pin him up on my wall anyway.

When he sees me, he stands straight. Something about him seems taller. Larger, more muscular. He doesn't move towards me like I expect, just stands there letting his gaze trail down the length of me.

I swear to God, my heart almost stops, or jumps into my throat - or something, but it doesn't feel like it's in my chest anymore. I'm starting to wonder if the effect Jordan has on me should get clinically checked out.

He grins. "Hello, beautiful."

BEAUTIFUL. I smile at him, practically skipping in his direction. Beautiful.

"Hello." I say, as I reach him. "Do I look okay? I wasn't sure what to wear since you didn't respond."

He looks down me once more. "You always look great." He's killing me. Killing me. His grin gets wider, "These are for you."

From nowhere he produces a bouquet of Calla tulips and red roses. It's huge. Bigger than my head. My eyes boggle at them. I'm speechless. "Jordan?"

He's got that amused look on his face, "I told you, it has to be like real dating."

I take the flowers from him. "Thank you, I love them. Have you ever bought anyone flowers before?"

He laughs, "No. I just picked up the biggest ones, thought I couldn't go wrong."

I stare at them, "They're beautiful. Thank you so much. Will you wait whilst I put them in my room?"

"Of course." He nods.

I shoot off, running up the stairs as quick as I can, bursting into our hall and then into my room. Shit. I don't have a vase. I lay them down on my desk and rush back into the kitchen, searching the cupboards. No vase.

In the end I settle with a plastic water bottle, chopping it in half with some scissors and filling it up with water. Then I place them on the desk so they'll be the first thing I see when I wake in the mornings.

I sprint back to Jordan, a little out of breath and my cheeks burning. He's leaning against the wall again, reading, and my heart feels like it's going to bubble over with joy.

I take a deep breath. This is just the first date. The first of many. An entire month's worth is coming up, if I can't keep it together now how on Earth am I going to be in twenty-nine dates time?

"Let's go," Jordan says, taking my hand and entwining his fingers with mine before leading me through campus.