Jordan

by Lindsey Hart

  That crash was probably just something in the kitchen that I didn’t put away properly last night. She wouldn’t even doubt it. Ever since she’d been moved to Jordan’s tour bus, she felt off-kilter. It wasn’t hard to guess why. Now that they were alone on there, well, alone except for Ted, who was always driving, it was even worse.

  She felt scattered, as though one look at Jordan’s handsome face blew her world apart. She was always struggling to pick up the pieces. Being allowed onto his bus, sleeping there, having her things there, it was like she’d entered the inner sanctum of his personal life.

  It feels intimate in a way it shouldn’t.

  A muffled thud hit the wall on the far end of the bus, behind the bunks.

  What the hell?

  This time she remembered not to sit upright. She didn’t want to crank her head on the bunk above her again.

  Jordan.

  That weird thump definitely came from his room and the crash, which sounded like broken glass, probably had as well.

  It occurred to Effie that if he was in trouble, he had no way of calling out for help. He could be choking or could have hit his head or cut himself or… a thousand other things. He could be lying there, needing her when she was so very close. He could be helpless, in pain…

  All vestiges of sleep faded. Effie threw back her blankets and swung her legs over the edge bunk bed. The bus rocked on, a clear indication that Ted hadn’t heard any of the noise going on behind him. Even if he had, he was probably used to it. Things rattled and rolled the entire way down the road. He probably had on one of the audio books he loved to listen to.

  The divider between the bedroom and the rest of the bus wasn’t thick or hard. It slid across and locked in place. It wasn’t exactly something she could knock on.

  “Jordan?” Effie called.

  There was, of course, no answer.

  “Jordan? Are you okay? I heard a crash and… I just- uh- wanted to know that you’re alright. Can you open the door? If you don’t… I’ll tell Ted to stop the bus and- uh- he’ll come in there and check.”

  Effie waited. She held her breath until her lungs were past the point of burning. Why isn’t he responding? Maybe he’s just sleeping, and I was wrong about where the noise came from. In that case, she would feel utterly ridiculous. If Jordan ripped open the door bleary-eyed and sleepy, would he think she was as foolish as she felt?

  “Jordan?” She called again, her voice smaller this time.

  If it was possible to feel both relieved and tense at once, she certainly did, when the divider clicked and swung open.

  Jordan stood there, surprisingly already dressed. He wore a polo, buttoned up all the way and a pair of dark wash jeans. She hadn’t seen him in anything so casual and as always, he looked far too amazing. And there she was standing in her pajamas. She thought he was well put together until she finally glanced up at his face.

  His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen with dark purple smudges underneath. A fine sheen of sweat stood out on his forehead. His skin was flushed, though just barely. The rest of his face was pale. Far too pale, though it could have been a trick of the poor lighting.

  “I… uh… heard a crash. I thought maybe something was wrong.” Even though her voice was tiny and lost sounding and her face burned crimson, Effie forced herself to swallow hard and stand her ground. “It’s not like you can call out for help if something was wrong. I’m sorry, I was worried.” She swallowed again and clutched her hands in front of her plaid pajama pants. “I… are you okay? You don’t look well… I mean- are you sick?”

  There was only a few of them left who hadn’t succumbed to the flu.

  Jordan’s hands moved in a series of signs. No. I’m well. Tired. It’s hot on the bus.

  “Is it?” She didn’t think it was. “Did you hear the crash?”

  He slowly shook his head, but he blinked rapidly. Emotion flashed through his sea blue eyes. Lines of tension or stress appeared on his normally smooth forehead. His lips flattened into a tight line and his jaw clenched. He blinked again, a hard, forced movement and in the next instant, his face relaxed. Whatever emotion Effie thought she’d seen was slammed back down into the depths of his heart.

  He looked away quickly, as though fully aware that she’d seen whatever it was he didn’t want her to see. She’d never known Jordan to purposely avoid her gaze. Her eyes swept over him again, sure that he wasn’t well. She inhaled and finally shrugged. It was all she could do.

  “Alright. I’m really sorry I bothered you. I’ll let you get back to bed. It can’t be more than five or six in the morning.”

  He inclined his head briefly before he turned and shut the divider with a whisper of plastic and air. The lock clicked into place a second later and Effie was left standing on the other side.

  She knew she shouldn’t read too much into it. It wasn’t a metaphor for Jordan’s heart or life. Yes, it is. We’ve both shut each other out just like that divider is up between us. She was willing to bet that he hadn’t moved away from the door either. That he was standing just on the other side, staring at the brown plastic like she was.

  No matter how many times she’d warned herself to close off her heart, to shut down her emotions, no matter how many times she told herself that it was inappropriate or that it wouldn’t last or that he couldn’t possibly feel the same way or that she didn’t either, Effie knew she was a liar.

  It was as unlikely as it was impossible, but somehow, Jordan was there in that part of her heart she could hardly admit existed. And it scared the hell out of her.

  CHAPTER 10

  Jordan

  “You have to cancel the show, Jordan. You’re sweating the makeup off faster than I can put it on.”

  Jordan vehemently shook his head, probably for the fourth time since he’d entered makeup. He wasn’t, under any conditions, going to cancel the show.

  He knew he wasn’t well. He was sick or sick with grief or both. He knew he was hot. Probably running a fever. He was sweating, according to his makeup artist, Jan, who kept dabbing his makeup off and reapplying it, trying to get it right.

  He barely felt any of it. He’d spent the entire day in bed, completely numb. Or at least, his body was numb. His brain refused to register anything other than the fact that his grandfather, the one person who understood him in the entire world, was gone. Ironically enough, his heart wasn’t numb at all. It felt raw and bloody like someone had ripped it out and put it through a shredder before jamming it back into his chest.

  Despite Jan’s waning patience, he finally made it through makeup. He was free to get himself up on stage.

  As he entered through the back door of the smaller arts center, Jordan nearly stumbled. He braced himself on the door as a wave of dizziness hit him hard. Black spots danced in front of his vision. He blinked hard, trying unsuccessfully to clear them.

  A few deep breaths and he had everything under control. He stood, faintly aware that his body was beginning to ache from the inside out like his very bones hurt.

  Fuck. This needs to get done and fast.

  He had no idea how he was going to get up on that stage and deliver a talk to everyone assembled. Put a sunny spin on the most negative, painful moments of his life. The last thing he felt like being was positive.

  “Jordan?”

  Oh no. He froze at the gentle, melodic voice. Effie. He straightened, his hand still on the wall by the back door. He had to meet her gaze otherwise she’d know for sure something was wrong. The look on her face that morning, all softly concerned and caring, after he’d thrown his glass of water and followed it up with his cell phone, nearly broke him.

  He’d spent the day alternating between memories of his grandpa and the look on Effie’s face like she knew everything in his world was wrong. He couldn’t fool her and he didn’t even truly know her.

  Some people just got it. They got it like they’ve known the deepest parts of me for an entire lifetime. Except that Jordan only said those kinds of th
ings. He sold that rhetoric in his books and on stage, but he didn’t truly believe in it. He’d never experienced an instant connection before. Whatever silver, silken thread bound them together was sewing harder, faster, ripping him apart as a single entity and joining him to Effie.

  “Hey… are you alright? You don’t look well. Are you sure you’re not getting sick?”

  Before he could even register what was happening, Effie strode forward purposefully, reached out and upwards and touched her dainty, cool palm to his forehead.

  “Jesus, Jordan! You’re burning up!”

  He shrugged.

  “You can’t go on like that!”

  He was starting to believe she was right. Another wave of dizziness hit him hard, nearly toppling him over. A chair… he signed. Just find a chair for me, if you can. I’ll sit down. I’ll get through it.

  Effie’s arms crossed firmly over her chest. “You don’t always have to be a bloody hero you know,” she ground out.

  To them I do. They don’t know me any other way.

  She paused, opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but she thought better of it and slammed it shut. She turned, disappearing fast since they were due on stage in under ten minutes. At least that was his best guess. He’d wasted a lot of time trying to get his bearings inside the backstage area.

  He gave himself a little shake, filled his lungs with a refreshing breath and forced his feet to carry him forward. Forward, towards the destiny that he had carved out for himself; the fate that he’d made when he’d been abandoned, bullied merciless, beaten, bruised, scarred physically, mentally and emotionally. His grandfather had told him to find himself. Jordan was almost sure as hell that this wasn’t what he’d been talking about.

  At that exact moment, amidst swirling thoughts of fate and destiny and finding himself, Effie appeared, the lights above hallowing her white blonde hair, shining off the curve of her dainty cheek and jawline, dancing in her luminous eyes.

  She looked like a damn angel or some otherworldly vision.

  “I found you a chair. Let’s go. We’re on in a few minutes.” Jordan hesitated, and Effie mistook it for an inability to move forward. “Do you need me to help you?”

  He tried to force his hands to make a sign, but they remained useless at his side. He took a step forward and nearly blacked out.

  “Jordan!” Effie’s hands came around his arm, solid, cool through his dress shirt. He’d opted to give the blazer a night off. He was way too warm for it, then cold in turns. He realized that he was sweating. Soaking through his shirt. “You can’t go out there,” Effie pleaded. He made no signs and she groaned. “You’re impossible.”

  He finally cleared the blackness away in time to see her eyes swimming right in front of his face. She was so close. So very close. He wished he was well. He would try that kiss again. Take her by surprise and taste those lush, soft, rose petal lips. It was an absurd thought, given the situation.

  Effie clearly didn’t notice his amorous intent. She knew he wasn’t going to give in and cancel the show. Not at the last minute. Instead of forcing him out the back door and onto the bus like he half wished she would, she led him sweating, trembling, shivering, sick to his stomach, skin burning, and worst of all, completely and utterly heartsick, onto the stage.

  CHAPTER 11

  Effie

  There were parts throughout the show where Effie was sure Jordan wasn’t going to make it. She watched him carefully, as she always did, but this time she wasn’t just watching his signs. It was difficult staying alert to his moving hands and noticing how he looked worse with every passing minute.

  It was a mercy Jordan even got off stage. He took three steps afterward and collapsed, falling to his hands and knees.

  “Jordan!” Effie rushed forward. She didn’t know whether to cry or curse him as she reached him and hooked an arm around his shoulders.

  His shirt was soaked through, though because it was black, she couldn’t tell until she actually touched him. The heat of his skin burned her palm. He was far more fevered than when he’d even gone on stage. She actually felt the shivers wracking his muscular frame.

  “We need to get you back to the bus. Can you make it or should I get a few people to help?”

  The vehement shake of his head was answer enough. His face was already flushed, but if it was possible his cheeks grew redder. His eyes blazed with anger and defiance when he raised his head.

  “Okay. That’s a solid no. I should know that the great Jordan Wall is too stubborn to ask everyone for help. Why would he need help when the entire world looks to him for answers?”

  He didn’t have the strength to respond, though he’d probably chew her out later. People often said it was hard to convey emotion when speaking with hands, but they were wrong. It was easy. She knew right away when Jordan was furious or excited. His hands changed, the signals growing sharper, punctuating his every word.

  “Come on then.” Using all her strength, Effie managed to pull Jordan to standing. He helped her more than a little, shoving up at the same time that she pulled.

  They tottered off together, in the direction of the back door and the bus that waited beyond. Too far away.

  She had to admit that Jordan was a force to be reckoned with. It was more than just his magnetic personality that drew people to him. It was more than the easy smile and glistening eyes he showed to the world. He had a reservoir of strength that he drew on. More than any coping mechanism he talked about, more than the inner reflection and introspection. Deep meditation and journaling, that well of strength he drew on helped him keep moving forward when any other man would end up in a downward spiral.

  They made it to the bus somehow. By the time Effie pushed open the divider to Jordan’s room, she too was soaked. She wasn’t sure how much sweat was her own and how much was Jordan’s. They froze, realizing at the same time, that she’d just entered his inner sanctum.

  “Take off your clothes. They’re soaked through.” She couldn’t look at him when she issued the command. Instead, her eyes took in the neatly made bed. It looked like it had never been slept in, made with military precision. The rest of the room was just as clean and had that unlived-in feel, as though Jordan was a guest in his own life.

  A long, awkward silence rose between them until Jordan’s hands finally moved. He slowly worked the buttons open and shrugged out of the dress shirt.

  My god, what a sight.

  She tore her eyes away after just a second, but the image remained burned in her brain. To say that Jordan looked great without a shirt on was definitely the understatement of the century. He was all lean, hard, striated muscle. Carved. Not a scrap of fat to be found. A delicate smattering of dark hair crested his pecks, trailed off over washboard abs and a beautiful belly button and resumed lower, a delicious arrow pointing downward.

  Holy, I need to get a grip. Do I actually think his belly button is beautiful?

  Where the hell did he find time to stay in that kind of shape? It wasn’t like there was a damn gym on the bus.

  “Pants too. Then get into bed.” She turned slowly, face burning, body heated, the sweeping prickle of awareness ripping right through her. The room seemed suddenly devoid of air.

  She didn’t turn around until she heard the whisper of covers pulled back and Jordan’s impeccable figure sliding beneath them.

  He exhaled a long, tired sound. He closed his eyes and seemed to be asleep within seconds.

  Effie’s eyes swept the room again and landed on an uncomfortable looking tub chair tucked into the corner of the room. There was no dresser or other furnishings. A small TV was mounted to the far side of the wall, facing the bed. The bed was a queen size and took up at least half the small room. A set of drawers lined the underside. She was willing to bet there were drawers on the other side as well. Two modern looking end tables stuck out from the wall on either side of the bed. They were attached to the wall itself so that they didn’t slide around while driving.
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  The tub chair wasn’t heavy. Effie carried it to the side of the bed and sunk down into it, strangely exhausted herself. She realized what the heavy weight on her shoulders and chest was; worry. She was worried about Jordan because she cared about him.

  She refused to examine her feelings. It was too soon. Far too soon. The strange yearning filling her chest, cutting off her lungs was there because she wanted to be beside Jordan. She liked being with him, even when he was obviously trying to push her away with his gruffness. Even when he didn’t want to let her in. What did that say about her? That she could fall into what she could only term as an interested infatuation so easily after spending her entire life not meeting a single person she wanted to know anything about? No man had ever held her interest before. Until Jordan. He captivated her. With the strength of a gale force wind, he swept over her. He was like a breath that she sucked in. Not only did he fill her lungs, he filled a heart and soul she never realized was lonely. She’d felt it from the first second she’d stared at that photo of him. The strange thread pulling her towards him.

  Effie sat in the chair for hours just watching Jordan sleep. She heard Ted come back into the bus. A while later the engine fired up and the bus was turning, rocking and shifting until they hit the freeway and the ride smoothed out.

  She drifted off for a couple hours before she was ripped awake by Jordan’s anguished moans.

  Her head whipped up so fast it made her neck crack. She reached up and rubbed the sore spot away. She had a small headache, probably from falling asleep sitting up. She could also be hungry or tired. She wasn’t sure.

  She focused on Jordan instead of on herself. He’d soaked right through the comforter and sheets below. Odd whimpers that weren’t quite a real sound escaped his parted, chapped lips. When she placed a hand on his forehead she was shocked at how hot he was.