I am internally cursing at Jordan, his car’s backlight slowly becoming out of view. Michael’s stare burns me but I cannot find the courage to look back at him. Instead, I shift my eyes to the floor.
Uncomfortably, I pass a hand on my hair, to find them entangled, making me curse again at Jordan for touching them. A flash of memory comes in my mind, him above me, his hand on my hair, his lips on mine, and I feel my cheeks redden.
“Let’s go up?” I ask in a shy voice I don’t recognize.
Michael doesn’t answer while I keep the door open for him. He lets out a sigh before going in. He follows me in silence until my apartment, and we go in together.
“Smells delicious,” he finally tells me.
“Thank you,” I reply, feeling the words burning my throat at how tense the situation is. “Thank you for
