All The Ways He Didn't Look At Me

Chapter Three When Mess Hits The Roof

Abby’s POV

“What are you doing with my phone, Abby?”

Those words, from the lips of the man I kissed mere hours ago, from the lips of the man who told me everything was going to be fine when I broke down in his arms. I refuse to believe it, to believe the rage in his eyes as he crosses the space, dragging the phone out of reach.

"Are you really asking me that, Jordan?" My voice sounds strange, lodged somewhere between disbelief and expectation. I should have known. He has always been too good for me. "I just saw a message from a girl you saved with a wet emoji, and you ask me what I am doing with your phone?"

A sigh escapes his lips as he tosses the phone onto the bed. "Stop acting like a child, Abby. You are overreacting right now, and I am going to let it slide because you just lost your father. Now, hop into the shower so we can go to bed."

My eyes narrow in confusion as I get on my feet, really trying to understand what is going on. "This isn't about my father's death, Jordan, and you know it," I whisper, shaking my head as I edge closer to him. "Don't flip this around."

“So what do you want me to say?”

“You told me the reason we weren’t going to your house was because you had it fumigated.” Saying the words out loud makes me realize how gullible I am. “Why did you lie to me?”

"Because I knew you would react this way," he mutters, walking around me. "It's nothing. She needed a place to stay, and I let her use mine since we weren't even going to be around in the first place."

I know what Jordan is doing because he has done it before. But this time, everything is different. I have heard that losing someone changes a whole lot about a person. Maybe that is what is happening right now, as I shake my head again, refusing to accept Jordan's explanations.

“Jordan, you have been cheating on me. I saw the message. You…”

“Are you really going to go there, Abby? What were you even doing with my phone in the first place?”

“That isn’t the point!” I scream in frustration, my hair flying all over the place. It feels like I am being hit across the face repeatedly, with my hands tied behind me, unable to retaliate.

“She needed comfort,” he snaps, stepping closer. “You wouldn’t let me touch you because you’d lost your father, Abby. What did you expect me to do?”

“Not sleep with her, Jordan,” I whisper, my heart breaking into a million shards. “You promised the last time…”

For a second, something that resembles remorse crosses his eyes. But it is gone as abruptly as it appeared. His lips raise in a smirk as his fingers rake through his hair. "You are one to talk, you know?"

I stop. “What are you even talking about, Jordan?”

“The mechanic kid from earlier,” he mutters, amusement in his tone. “You really think I’m dumb, don’t you? You think that you can do things under my nose and I won’t know.”

Jordan moves to the window slowly, the muscles in his forearms moving as he swipes the blinds closed before turning around. He still has the sly grin on his face, but something about it feels darker.

Harsher.

I take a slow step backwards, my heart thudding hard against my chest. “Jordan, there is nothing going on between me and Noah.”

"Oh! Noah!" The name sounds foreign on his tongue, and I wish I could wipe it off. It feels like a memory no one wants to share, like something is being robbed from me. "He has a name now."

“Jordan, I…”

"You had your eyes on him all through the funeral, Abby," he drawls, tilting his head. "Poor Abby. There I was, holding you in my arms while you were pining over another man. Tell me. Did you run to him on the day you heard Mr. Carter died?"

“Jordan…”

“Did you both have s*x? Was that the reason I called endlessly and you didn’t pick up?”

“I told you I didn’t hear my phone ring!”

“Convenient, don’t you think?” he mutters, pulling closer to me again.

I try to understand how this has become about me, how we got here. “I haven’t seen Noah in five years, Jordan. I am telling the truth.”

“Are you?” He murmurs, stopping in front of me. He reaches for me, and my body goes rigid as his hand grazes my face. “Humour me, Abby. Who f***s better? Me or him?”

“I don’t…”

I hear the whoosh in the air before his hands meet my face. My head jerks to the side at once, a sharp pain biting through me. I stagger back from the force, tears stinging the corners of my eyes, my hand touching my red cheeks, and my eyes coming to his.

But Jordan stalks closer menacingly. I try to push away from him, but he grabs my wrist, holding so tight that I feel the ache spreading through me. He pulls me hard against his chest, his woody wash hitting my nostrils.

"Do not lie to me, Abby," he growls, his eyes red with anger. "Answer the f*****g question."

“Jordan,” I whimper, biting my lips to stop myself from crying out. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

When he hit me across the face a second time, it becomes hard to hold the tears in. They roll down my face in beads, while Jordan just shakes his head, letting me go like I am some dirt on his shoes.

“I don’t even know why I bother with you,” he mutters, stalking to the balcony. “I am going for a smoke. But when I return, you should be ready to tell me everything about this Noah guy. And you know I am not joking, Abby.”

I wait till the door closes behind him before my knees give out. My wails travel through the walls, ugly and raw. With shaky hands, I crawl across the room, conscious of the door behind me just in case Jordan returns.

It is hard to see through the tears, to make out the huddled names on my phone. When I reach Harper’s name on my contact list, I hit call and press the phone to my ear.