Definitely, Maybe, Sometimes. | ✔️ COMPLETED

Chapter Seventeen

Jordan and I lie in silence for a minute, our bodies curled around each other in the single bed of my dorm. He laughs into my shoulder and I join him. My voice is low, like it always is in the early hours. "I sound pathetic, don't I?"

"Not pathetic." He says, "Naive maybe."

"I'd rather be naive and inspirational than boring and dower." I turn towards him, our noses are almost touching. We haven't kissed or done anything. We've just lay here talking. "Not that I'm saying you're boring or dower."

He smiles, "I didn't think you were until you said that."

"Well," I laugh. "Maybe you can change my mind. What's your plan for the future?"

Jordan shrugs around me, "I want to write and I want to escape."

"Escape?" I ask. "Escape what?"

"I dunno. Life. Family bonds. All of it."

"So," my voice sounds a little snotty, I don't mean it to be. "What do you plan to do? Go travelling, like a gap year?"

"No," he says, a little defensive. "I'm gonna be a journalist, aren't I? Travel to war-torn countries and write about the impoverished."

"Like an overseas correspondent? You're gonna, what? Crawl around in trenches and stand near nuclear weapons? Have bombs going off around you whilst you stand in the middle of a civil war?"

He grins. "Yeah. Exactly."

"Isn't that a little-"

"Rough" Jordan offers. "Dangerous?"

I chuckle. "Yeah. Both of those things. Have you ever been in a near death experience before and had to write about it?"

"No. But I'm sure that will come with experience."

"Okay, why don't I help you practice?"

He raises his eyebrows at me, questioning. "What do you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know. On our next date I'll poison the food, or I'll rent a car and have you stand in the middle of the road whilst I drive at you, screaming in Russian."

He laughs. "Can you even drive?"

"No. But I'll learn." I say, turning my face away from him. We both settle into the pillows on our backs. I don't like the idea of having him taken from me when I've only just got him. "Do you really think you'll want to put yourself in danger like that?"

He nods, "I'd love to - it's a way to feel like I'd be making a difference in the world."

"Is that what you want to do? Change the world? One story at a time?"

He takes a deep breath. "Gotten a bit deep this, hasn't it?"

"I like deep." I say. "I like seeing how people work."

"Of course you do. Don't go getting any ideas about me though. I can't be fixed."

"I didn't realise you were broken."

"I'm as broken as a three-legged race horse."

I stare at him as reaches over me to grab a glass of water, then leans against the wooden headboard to drink it. He truly is one of the most magnificent men I have ever seen.

The dawn light is filtering through the blue curtains, illuminating his cheekbones and jaw in the best way. Even sat there, drinking the water, he looks like he should be on the cover of Vogue.

I'm not sure I can ever describe him in his entirety, no words seem enough, 'striking' could be one, but it doesn't explain his soft eyes or quiet voice. 'Handsome' could be another, but it doesn't seem strong enough. It sounds as though he's like every other good-looking man. 'Beautiful' gives him a certain sense of femininity that he doesn't have.

I could run through all the adjectives and none of them would fit.

It's not just about his looks or finely toned abs. It's the way he talks, how his hands move to help describe a story. It's his soft laugh and clear voice. He's the whole package rolled into one. I keep analysing him and he lets me, analysing me back. I get the sense he's just as fond of my looks as I am his.

I don't understand how that could be, everyone's always known me as plain. I've got long brown hair, pale green eyes, my face gets lost in the crowd. My body is neither impressive or unimpressive. I'm not like Reign with her curves and DD boobs, or Lynn who struggled to get jeans over her bum today.

I'm completely average in every single way.

I take the glass of water from his hands and join him in sitting up, "Do you think you'd ever want to share your writing with me?"

"Maybe." He says. "I have the distinct notion that if I did, you wouldn't share it with a soul and you wouldn't mock me either."

"Of course I wouldn't."

"I know." He says. "I trust you."

There's a long pause and we just look at each other, then his hand reaches out and brushes my cheek, almost on impulse. It's a simple touch and it sends my pulse all over the place.

Before I can stop myself, before I can restrain the need to lean into the contact, my face pushes into his hand. This isn't sexual, it's about comfort and support. Something about it not being sexually charged makes every nerve ending in my body spark with electricity.

Suddenly I begin to think this is a terrible mistake.

Here I am, after eighteen years of never having a boy interested in me and I'm in bed with one. Not just any one, but Jordan no less. I have a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that the only thing this will result in is my very own heart being broken.

He retracts his hand as if he sensing some kind of hesitation from me, and in a low gravelly voice he says. "I really like you."

"I really like you too." I say.

But that dark feeling, the one where I'm not good enough, the one telling me this is going to end badly, creeps back in. How am I meant to live up to someone like him? How am I to keep him when he's so extraordinary?

Get a grip. He's not the only boy in the world.

No, he isn't. But he certainly feels like he is. When I next look back to Jordan his eyes are closed and he's breathing evenly.

He's asleep.

I'm not offended, we have been talking for at least nine hours. I didn't know I could talk this much, I didn't know he could either. Birds are chirping outside, letting me know it's the time I would usually be getting up.

"Jordan," I whisper, "Lay down properly. You'll hurt your neck like that."

"Okay," He mumbles sleepily, sliding down so he's back to laying flat on his back.

He's in his boxers even though nothing happened. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest, I feel no way prepared for how comforting it is. I take in the warm, musty smell of him. Breathe it all up.

I lie really still, listening to his tempered breathing, letting it wrap around me like a blanket.

A/N - I can't decide if I want to go full graphic with sex or not???????? Sometimes I find it embarrassing to write so I dunno lol?