all day and I’m not sticking around for another hour or two to get his job done as well.
“I already emailed it to Patrick. I was going to ask if you wanted to go to a concert tonight? Patrick’s niece had them, but her and her boyfriend have the flu or something as equally gross. I can pick up the tickets at will call if you’re interested.”
“Who’s playing?” I haven’t been to a live show in years. Probably since my severe, unhealthy obsession with bleach blonde mushroom cuts and lime green fishnet shirts.
“Ed Sheeran,” he states, matter of fact and I nearly fall out of my seat. I tried to get tickets for that show months ago when they went on sale, but they were all gone within the first fifteen minutes. I even resorted to listening to the top forty stations to win a pair, but walked away empty handed.
“Are you serious? Like don’t screw with me. You have Ed Sheeran tickets?”
“As a heart attack, babe. You in?” His grin approaching monumental heights as his eyelids crinkle and those tiny wrinkles on the bridge of his nose become more and more visible.
“Do I have time to run home and change?” If he says no, I won’t even care. I’d show up there naked if that means I get to hear Ed play live.
Jordan glances at his watch, does a little math in his head, “If you get up right now and you let me drive, we can stop by your place so you can change and still make it before the opening act closes their set.”
“Done.” Grabbing my purse, I turn off the monitor to the computer screen and nearly fall as I run around my desk. Knowing I’ll move faster if I’m not in heels, I carefully pull my swollen feet out of the shoes and carry them the entire way through the office, into the lobby and inside the parking garage. Spotting Jordan’s car, I briskly walk in that direction, the lights flashing as he unlocks the doors. Not waiting for him to try to open the door for me, even though I’m assuming he thinks this is some sort of date, I climb inside and buckle my seatbelt before he even reaches the driver's side.
I send a quick text to Nolan that I’ll catch up with him tomorrow because I’m going to a concert. I don’t tell him who I’m going with and I assume he’ll think my date’s Cleo.
*****
Hastily, I change into something more concert appropriate; a pair of worn skinny jeans, tall black boots and a loose fitting tank I have to wear a sports bra with or I’ll be flashing the entire city. Jogging back outside to Jordan’s waiting car, he peels out of my driveway and towards downtown.
Plugging in my phone and turning on my playlist that features the most Ed Sheeran songs, the first few ones are most popular and both Jordan and I sing along. I catch myself a few times, wanting to hit a higher note but settling back down, however, at the end of one of my favorite songs, I close my eyes and let the music carry me away, not giving a shit who’s listening.
“I didn’t know you could sing,” Jordan notices, eyeing me while he weaves in and out of the remains of rush hour traffic.
“I didn’t know you had connections for concert tickets,” I kid.
One of my favorite songs begins to play, but it’s a different artist. Unlocking my phone, I’m prepared to skip to the next until I glance over at Jordan mouthing the words to the soulful voice pouring out of the speakers.
“You know this song?” Jordan’s always been just as much of a music junkie as I am, but watching him lip sync one of the most popular songs off the Twilight soundtrack … that’s taking it a little too far, even for him.
“Have you listened to the words? It’s an excellently written song. Not to mention it’s in one of the highest selling movies,” he says, defending his tastes.
“Don’t get your panties twisted,” I joke. “I just wasn’t aware that you grew a vagina while you were gone. Totally understandable though. I get
“I already emailed it to Patrick. I was going to ask if you wanted to go to a concert tonight? Patrick’s niece had them, but her and her boyfriend have the flu or something as equally gross. I can pick up the tickets at will call if you’re interested.”
“Who’s playing?” I haven’t been to a live show in years. Probably since my severe, unhealthy obsession with bleach blonde mushroom cuts and lime green fishnet shirts.
“Ed Sheeran,” he states, matter of fact and I nearly fall out of my seat. I tried to get tickets for that show months ago when they went on sale, but they were all gone within the first fifteen minutes. I even resorted to listening to the top forty stations to win a pair, but walked away empty handed.
“Are you serious? Like don’t screw with me. You have Ed Sheeran tickets?”
“As a heart attack, babe. You in?” His grin approaching monumental heights as his eyelids crinkle and those tiny wrinkles on the bridge of his nose become more and more visible.
“Do I have time to run home and change?” If he says no, I won’t even care. I’d show up there naked if that means I get to hear Ed play live.
Jordan glances at his watch, does a little math in his head, “If you get up right now and you let me drive, we can stop by your place so you can change and still make it before the opening act closes their set.”
“Done.” Grabbing my purse, I turn off the monitor to the computer screen and nearly fall as I run around my desk. Knowing I’ll move faster if I’m not in heels, I carefully pull my swollen feet out of the shoes and carry them the entire way through the office, into the lobby and inside the parking garage. Spotting Jordan’s car, I briskly walk in that direction, the lights flashing as he unlocks the doors. Not waiting for him to try to open the door for me, even though I’m assuming he thinks this is some sort of date, I climb inside and buckle my seatbelt before he even reaches the driver's side.
I send a quick text to Nolan that I’ll catch up with him tomorrow because I’m going to a concert. I don’t tell him who I’m going with and I assume he’ll think my date’s Cleo.
*****
Hastily, I change into something more concert appropriate; a pair of worn skinny jeans, tall black boots and a loose fitting tank I have to wear a sports bra with or I’ll be flashing the entire city. Jogging back outside to Jordan’s waiting car, he peels out of my driveway and towards downtown.
Plugging in my phone and turning on my playlist that features the most Ed Sheeran songs, the first few ones are most popular and both Jordan and I sing along. I catch myself a few times, wanting to hit a higher note but settling back down, however, at the end of one of my favorite songs, I close my eyes and let the music carry me away, not giving a shit who’s listening.
“I didn’t know you could sing,” Jordan notices, eyeing me while he weaves in and out of the remains of rush hour traffic.
“I didn’t know you had connections for concert tickets,” I kid.
One of my favorite songs begins to play, but it’s a different artist. Unlocking my phone, I’m prepared to skip to the next until I glance over at Jordan mouthing the words to the soulful voice pouring out of the speakers.
“You know this song?” Jordan’s always been just as much of a music junkie as I am, but watching him lip sync one of the most popular songs off the Twilight soundtrack … that’s taking it a little too far, even for him.
“Have you listened to the words? It’s an excellently written song. Not to mention it’s in one of the highest selling movies,” he says, defending his tastes.
“Don’t get your panties twisted,” I joke. “I just wasn’t aware that you grew a vagina while you were gone. Totally understandable though. I get
Similar Books
