Bad Rep (Bad Rep, #1)(42)

We spent the next twenty minutes talking about school.  Jordan revealed that he still had no idea what he wanted to do when he graduated.  He was an Accounting major, mostly because his dad wanted him to become a CPA, like he was, and partner with him at his accounting firm.  I could not see Jordan as an accountant.  Didn't they wear glasses and buttoned collared shirts with Chinos?  How could his dad even begin to think that would be a suitable career path for Jordan?  I had known the guy for all of two minutes yet I knew unequivocally that he was meant to do a hell of a lot more with his life than crunching numbers.

Jordan explained that his mom owned her own chocolate shop and imported sweets from all over the world.  He spoke warmly of his mom and I knew that even though his feelings for his father were strained, his mother was his rock.

He talked about staying in town after he graduated and playing with Generation Rejects.   That seemed to be where his passion lay.  His face lit up when he talked about playing shows and his dream of making music for a living.

“My dad would never go for it though.  I've been told enough times, by a lot of people, that I need to concentrate on making a proper living and not put my energies into something that will never happen.” He sounded sad and I couldn't help myself from reaching over and putting my hand on his.  Jordan turned his hand so that he pressed his palm against mine and laced our fingers together.  It felt right.  As though our hands were meant to hold each other.

“Are you an only child?  Or do you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked.  Jordan shook his head.

“Nope, just me.  So I am the lone recipient of my dad's disappointment.” He let out a frustrated breath.  I squeezed his hand before pulling away.

“The only child club kind of sucks sometimes, huh?” I asked lightly.  Jordan cocked his head to the side.

“You too?” he asked.  I took another bite of my eclair.

“Present and counted for.  My parents were older when they had me.  My mom was forty-two, my dad almost fifty.  They didn't think they'd be able to have any kids.  So when I happened, I became their sole focus.  Their last ditch effort at realizing their dreams.” I admitted harshly.

Jordan's eyes didn't hold an ounce of judgment and he looked at me as if he got what I was saying.   “My dad is this uber successful guy, you know?  He has this amazing career that he worked his whole life to have.  He came from nothing and he thinks I'm throwing away all of the opportunities he never had.  He calls me a f*ck up because I'd rather play drums than stare at math problems all day.”  Jordan said, sounding unhappy.  I understood exactly where he was coming from.

My whole life I had tried so hard to be someone my parents could be proud of.  I could never be enough or do enough to make them happy.  My dad hated the fact that I was in a sorority and that's why he refused to help pay the dues.  My mom, while she loved the thought of me finally being popular, sided with my dad in thinking it was a foolish waste of time.  They never failed to let me know that they thought I should be 100 percent focused on school.  My dad was a teacher and my mom was a nurse.  They were totally dedicated to what they did.  So having a daughter who sort of flew halfcocked through life wasn't their ideal.

“Disappointing your parents sucks.” I said softly.  Jordan's eyes sparkled at me and I felt we connected in that moment.

“It sure does,” he agreed quietly, staring into my eyes intently before I finally had to look away.

I cleared my throat, trying to dispel whatever was building between us.  I gripped my hands tightly together, staring down at the table top.  “You know, I say do what you want. You have to do what makes you happy,” I said.

Jordan smiled.  “That's what I'm trying to do,” he said quietly and I had a feeling he was talking about more than just his music.

My phone started vibrating in my pocket, the sound of Blue Oyster Cult's Don't Fear the Reaper, blaring.

“Love the ring tone,” Jordan said smiling as I pulled out my phone.  I looked down and saw that it was Gracie.

“Hello?” I had an overwhelming urge to throttle Gracie for interrupting such a great moment.

“Where the hell are you?” she yelled into the phone.

“Whoa, calm down.  What's up?” I asked, shooting Jordan an apologetic smile.

“The rush event starts in two hours and Vivian is freaking out.  Nothing is set up and the costumes are a mess.  You've got to get to the house right now.”

I sighed.  “I'm on my way,” I assured her and hung up.

I tucked my phone away and got up.  “Sorority crisis?” Jordan asked.

“As always,” I deadpanned, grabbing my purse.  We left the coffee shop and headed to our respective vehicles.  “Thanks for the coffee. I enjoyed hanging out,” I told him sincerely.  Jordan leaned against his motorcycle, balancing the helmet against his thighs.

“Me too.  It feels like it took too long to get here.  I hate that things have been weird between us. I never wanted that,” he said a little sadly.

“Me either,” I admitted, feeling that magnetic pull between us intensify.  My phone buzzed in my pocket again and I pulled it out.  I didn't bother to read the text that Gracie had just sent. “I've gotta go.  Duty calls.  I guess I'll see you on Saturday?” I asked, before getting into my car.