Restoring Jordan (18 page)

He’s the first and only man I’ve been with, and whatever type of relationship we have, it’s my very first of those as well. What are the odds this is the man I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with, and quite frankly, if I put myself out there with him, that’s exactly what my expectation would be. Forever. The odds are slim this is my future. He made that clear on the first night we were together, and anything other than forever will break my heart if I let it. I love Kelli, and she wants what’s best for me, but she’s always been impetuous when I’ve been cautious.

I won’t break it off with him. I’d fail at his first touch, but I can’t plan a life with him here when he’s given me no reason to think that’s possible.

Adeline is late arriving Monday morning due to her doctor’s appointment, and when she finally shows up and she’s active in the e-mail system, I ask her to meet me in the lobby to head over to Market Street. They’re completing the install of her cabinets today, and she’s been looking forward to this. The drywall finishers have completed the painting for the entire model unit, and with the cabinetry now finally going in, it’s time for doors and trim. The woodworking studio we contracted for the custom built-ins will be arriving shortly after one o’clock to complete the cabinetry, and that gives Adeline and I time to get lunch together. There is a small café we’ve eaten at a couple of times, and I don’t have to worry much about being caught with the intern there, so as I pull to the curb with her by my side, I lean to her mouth and kiss her. I’ve been stuck on the phone the entire drive and haven’t even had a chance to ask about her appointment.

I wasn’t ready for her to leave last night, and though I tried to convince her to stay, I stopped short of showing her just how desperate I was. I don’t know why I insist on playing it cool with her. I’m anything but when I’m around her, but as much as it could be my downfall, I hold it back. I’m new to caring so much about a woman, and there’s an incredible vulnerability that leaves me frozen in panic most of the time. Taking her body, pleasuring her, giving her every last ounce of my physical passion is easy; I’m making love to her, and every touch, caress, kiss is a show of my deep and desperate feelings, but she has no idea. Her rejection would destroy me, and I’m not ready to divulge that fact yet.

She has a job offer in Des Moines starting the week following her graduation, and this fact leaves me ready to call every firm in Chicago to beg they offer her a job. Her decision in some way is like a rejection, but it isn’t. She’s broke and has no real reason to stay without a job. But she knows I want her to stay. However much of my emotion I continue to hide or continue to display only in my physical interaction, I haven’t told her the real reason for wanting her here. It’s because I can’t imagine my life without her in it. I can’t imagine my home belonging to only me anymore, and I can’t imagine lying alone in my bed for the rest of my life. She cares about me, but could she ever love someone like me?

As I pull from her mouth, she gives me my most favorite smile. It’s the one that is slight and subtle, all of her passion is in her eyes, rather than her mouth, and it’s an intimate look of longing. I’m guessing she’s still having her period, and the want from so many days of not making love to her may just kill me. I tried my best to convince her to let me make love to her both Saturday night and Sunday, but she wouldn’t budge. The look of absolute mortification had me dropping my request without much fight. She was terrified of going there with me, her self-consciousness getting the better of her. Patience is a virtue others behold, not me, and I’m already praying her cycle is short. At least I won’t have to worry about suiting up every time I want her, and since I want her constantly, I’ll likely be shaving a good hour of condom rolling off my schedule every week. What will I do with all that extra time?

I open her door, and we walk hand in hand into the restaurant. The moment our waitress has taken our order, I grill her, and she humors my over-interest in her birth-control details.

“I opted for the arm implant.” And pulling up the arm of her short-sleeve shirt, I can see the bandage is on the inside of her upper arm.

“Well fuck, you didn’t have to maim yourself for the cause. The pill would have sufficed.”

She smiles and cocks her head. “Not if the point was to actually keep me from getting pregnant. I don’t remember to take pills well. Never have. Trust me, it would have been disastrous.”

“Oh I don’t know. I bet you’d be sexy as hell pregnant.” My eyes flit from hers the moment the words are out, and hers move from mine as well. Fuck. Wanting to see her someday carrying our child is my fantasy and not something I intended to share with her right now. But as the flush of her cheeks subsides and she looks back to me, I get us back on track. “So how long is that good for?”

“Three years.”

“Hmm. I’m sure we could have a lot of fun in three years.” Fuck again. I can’t stop divulging my innermost secret longing for her today, and as her shy gaze that once more fled my own again finds its way back to mine, I try again to rectify my slip. “Just kidding… That would of course require you to actually stay in Chicago, and since you have no interest in being here, it’s…” And the waitress arrives with our salads. Thank fuck! One more moment and I’ll be professing my undying love and devotion and probably proposing marriage before we’ve even been served our food.

As she finishes her side salad and pushes the plate to the edge of the table, I hand her an envelope. She takes it, opening it quickly and pulling the few sheets of paper out. As she reads, I comment, “As promised. And you’ll note I’m free of any communicable diseases.” Her eyes flash to mine and she gives a quick, amused smile before returning to the paperwork. She studies, she reviews, she pays far more attention to my life spelled out in medical terms than I expected.

“You have good cholesterol.”

“Thanks?” I cock my head in amusement, and she flashes another smile. She’s enjoying herself, and I’m enjoying her.

“Your HDL is a little low though… Perhaps you should have ordered the salmon…” She looks at me with a sarcastic smile, and I chuckle.

“Are you reassured of my good health … minus my obvious HDL flaw?”

“I wasn’t too concerned to begin with. You went to the trouble of getting your medical records, so I assumed you knew there was nothing concerning on there … aside from the HDL…” Now we’re both smiling as our food arrives. A bacon cheeseburger for me; cholesterol be damned.

As we eat, I overstep the boundaries a bit more. “So how long does your period usually last?”

“Four to five days.”

“And how fast does the implant kick in?”

“I’ll be covered as soon as my cycle ends.”

“So by like tonight?”

“Odd you never learned to count the days of the week.” Her sarcasm has my soul on fire. “Try Wednesday most likely.”

“Ah. The golf tournament.”

“Umm. Golf tournament. Should I know what you’re referring to?”

I fill her in on our annual spring golf tournament. We will close shop for the afternoon, and the entire company will more or less take over the golf course for an afternoon of golf, drinks, and fun. I usually bow out, but I’m suddenly very interested in this event. And more than that, what fun I might be able to squeeze in with Adeline while there. It will be the first time I can get my dick inside her after all. She confesses she’s never golfed, and I confess I have. I’m a good golfer, and I can’t wait to show off a bit in that incredibly masculine need I have to impress the hell out of her, and by the time lunch is over we’re running late getting to the site.

* * * *

When Wednesday afternoon rolls around, I’m ready to do anything I can to get to her body. The week has been torture. She hasn’t spent the night with me, nor has she asked me to spend the night with her. Being apart no longer feels normal, but neither of us are ready to break down and ask the other over when our interaction is so limited by her blessed femaleness; I want her there regardless of whether I can touch her, but it’s harder for some reason to ask when I have no sexually-based reason; just another reminder of what a schmuck I am.

I’ve been stuck in meetings all day, and there was nothing important enough going on with Market Street to bow out of my other obligations. I have every intention of seeing to it we’re paired together or at least close enough for me to watch her. I can’t wait to see how this plays out. I’m hoping for a wiff that leaves her spinning, but I’d take a dig too. I just want her embarrassed in front of me. Her blush, her embarrassment is an intense reminder of just how much I get under her skin, and while there’ll be a slight pang of guilt, I’ll also enjoy making it up to her later.

I meet her, along with every last employee of our firm, in the lobby of our building. She looks beautiful but certainly not dressed for golf in her work clothes. She has a bag slung over her shoulder and is apparently just getting ready to change. I want nothing more than to ravish her here and now, but I fight to remain calm and professional. I see her, and there is no question she sees me as well, but as we avoid one another for a few minutes I’m forced to be content stealing glimpses. She’s standing with Bridget and stealing just as many looks at me as I am of her. After I’m certain I’ve been casual and spoken to enough people to not appear over-interested in her, I approach. We exchange pleasantries, feigning nothing more than a professional relationship while images of her naked body and all the many ways I’ve touched it float through my head.

“Who are you golfing with, Jordan?” It’s Bridget who is asking, and when I mention I’ll be with Charles from Accounting, I just sit back and wait for my plan to play out. Charles and Bridget are good friends, and as I spot him I wave, calling him over. The moment he meets us, Bridget takes care of the rest. “We should all golf in a foursome. It’s two teams of two per hole, so it will be perfect!” Her best buddy Charles agrees enthusiastically, and I smirk at Adeline as my brow shoots up. She smiles her shy innocent one right back. This afternoon promises to be oh-so-much fun.

*

The moment Charles agreed to golf with Bridget and I, the panic set in. I want to be near Jordan more than anything, but couldn’t it have been doing something a bit less treacherous to my fleeting coolness than a sport I know nothing about? As Jordan recommends I go change, I turn and leave the room for the restrooms. I’m met in the hall by my favorite person in the world, Vera, who stops me in my tracks.

“Adeline, you don’t need to worry about changing. You won’t be going today. You will need to stay and answer the phones while we’re away.” Her mocking, cold smile is all the evidence I need this was her idea and done intentionally to hurt me. “The building will be locked, so no one will be coming in, but I’ve forwarded the phones to your desk. If you work away from your desk, make sure to forward the phone to the nearest extension. You can leave at four thirty.” She doesn’t say another word but stares at me, challenging me to argue. I turn and return to the lobby with my bag still over my shoulder.

As I enter, the heat creeps into my cheeks. Vera has humiliated me once again, and when Jordan sees my face, his falls, and he shakes his head in anger. Vera is following me out of the hallway, and as Jordan sees her his eyes narrow and his glare takes over his expression. I approach Jordan, and his irritation gets the better of him. “What did that bitch do?” His words are seething with fury, and I give him a warning look. Bridget is watching, and though she appreciates his hatred of Vera, she is shocked to see him speak so harshly.

“I have to stay and answer phones.”

“Bullshit. We have a fucking phone system for that.” At Jordan’s continued outburst, Bridget’s eyes have widened farther. I say my apologies to the group and slink away as Foster claps a hand on Jordan’s shoulder and pulls him away before he can say anything further.

I return to my desk and sit. I’m humiliated once again, and while Jordan wouldn’t appreciate my humiliation or agree with my feeling this way, I feel it all the same. Vera takes every opportunity she gets to knock me down a notch in life, and the fact Jordan has been witness to nearly every one of my humiliations makes it hard not to be ashamed. I eventually make a coffee, forward the phones, which are silent, to the samples room, and I retreat there with my boards to work on them. I will be turning my boards in as part of my final internship grade, and I want to redo the layout and clean them up a bit.

It’s incredibly silent, and as I work I sing quietly. I’m a good singer; always have been. Music and arts were always my talent, and while I cut, glue, arrange, and tidy everything up, I entertain myself with a moody and dissonant tune I picked up from some random Lisa Gerrard soundtrack. It’s missing the accompaniment that belongs with the song, but I can hear it in my head.

My mind wanders to Jordan, and I use the peace and solitude to fantasize about him. He’s not made love to me since Friday night, and I’m starved for him. How on earth did I survive without sex before he came along? I’ve decided I’m quite a fan of it actually, and I push away the idea I’ll lose him completely in a few weeks. If I would just receive some interest from some firm in Chicago, I would have an income and a reason, other than him, to stay. He’s reason enough, but I can’t attach my future to the one-night-stand man simply in want for sex. But of course that’s not all I want. I crave him, I need him, I love him. Sex aside, I need him in my life for reasons that go far deeper. He’s instilled a confidence in me I didn’t have before. He believes in me, and he wants me to succeed as much as I do. There is no jealousy, cattiness, resentment, or any other of a million awful human emotions he could feel for my abilities. He cares as much about my success as he does his own.

As I finish my song and start in on another, I look up to see him standing in the doorway, and I shriek in surprise. He’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded and his incredible smile. He chuckles as I fidget in embarrassment. He saunters across the room and leans to my mouth. When he’s finished with my lips, he nibbles his way along my jawline to my ear. “You have an amazing voice. I had no idea you could sing so well.”