You Promised Me Forever (Forever Yours #1)(34)

“Is that why you’re here with me tonight?” I ask, the doubt sweeping through me slowly, like the thick gray fog that rolls into the San Francisco Bay. “Because of what I do and the fame that comes with it?”

“Of course not,” she says without hesitation. “I knew you before you were the Jordan Tuttle, you know. Back when you were short and a little chubby, with zits all over your face. Remember that?”

I wince. Yeah, I remember when I was shorter than her and hadn’t quite shed the baby fat yet. My mom wanted to send me to a weight loss camp the summer after seventh grade, but thank Christ I grew like six inches in a matter of a few months. The diet lectures and camp mentions disappeared. “Why you gotta bring up the bad times?”

She laughs and squeezes my hands. “I’m just saying I’ve known you for a long time. And while we haven’t been in each other’s lives for over six years, I don’t think that matters. I still know who you are, Jordan. And I don’t care about the money or the fame.”

I want to believe her. I also want to trust her. I do.

But she broke up with me. She gave up on me first. I can’t forget that. No matter how hard I try, the doubt is still there, reminding me I shouldn’t trust her. Not completely.

Not yet.





He takes me up to the rooftop deck, where a breathtaking view of the city lights greets me. We’re so high up, there’s a strong breeze, causing me to wrap my arms around myself to ward off the chill.

“This view is great,” I tell him as I lean against the railing, tipping my head down so I can see the traffic below. Not that there are many cars out at this time of night, but there are just enough to keep my interest.

Well, that and I’m avoiding looking at him. I’m on edge, unsure. What’s going to happen next? He hasn’t even tried to kiss me, or touch me beyond holding my hands. My body is demanding more, more, more, but it’s almost like he’s—withholding his affection on purpose, maybe?

I sincerely hope not.

“I never come up here,” he says as he stops to stand right beside me, resting his arms on the railing.

I turn to look at him, surprised by his admission. “Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t have time.”

“Sounds like you don’t have much time for anything.” This worries me. This is what we ran into before, and after a while, it sent me packing.

Some might say I gave up on him, and I was stupid. Most of the time, I agree with that assessment. But then I remember sad, lonely me six years ago. Still living at home and going to community college while my hot and popular boyfriend was at USC and living the dream—without me.

“I’m busy, yeah. Like, all the time.” He nudges his elbow against mine. “You know this, though. You remember.”

“I do. Yes, I get it,” I say, my voice cool, my thoughts haywire. Crap, I don’t really get it, no matter how much I want to. Brutal truth time: I want to be with a man who’s able to give all of himself to me, no matter what. Not like I want to be attached at the hip and he has no outside interests or whatever—I want us to share in everything we do, and right now, with the way Jordan’s life is going, I’m not sure if he can be that man. No matter how badly I want him to be.

Only an hour ago at the restaurant I was telling myself this could totally work, and now I’m thinking it’s near impossible.

Why is the truth so hard to face?

“Hey.” He touches me, his fingers slipping beneath my chin to tilt my face up so our gazes connect. “I can practically see the cogs turning in your brain.”

My smile is sad, I can feel it. “Reality sucks.”

He understands what I’m really saying, and I appreciate that about him. Reality does suck. We’re having a great time tonight. Being together feels familiar, yet different. Fresh and new, with that comforting, hey we’ve done this before, vibe too.

But tomorrow I’ll go back to work and so will he. He’s so busy who knows when I’ll see him again.

For all I know, this might be my one last chance.

“Fuck reality,” he murmurs as he lowers his head until we’re so close, I can feel his breath waft across my cheek. “Don’t worry about all the bullshit, Mandy.”

“But I can’t help—”

He cuts my words off with a kiss.

My stomach drops, tumbling over itself at that first touch of his mouth on mine. Again, it’s familiar yet new. Thrilling. Exciting. He’s kissing me. Jordan Tuttle is kissing me.

His lips are soft. Not hungry, not demanding. More like a test, a question.

Are we really doing this?

Are you going to let me keep kissing you?

Do you want this?

Do you want me?

Yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

Our mouths meet again and again. Sweet, chaste kisses that make my entire body grow warm. He slips his arms around my waist and pulls me in closer, his lips parting mine, his tongue darting. Retreating. A tease.

A promise.

Feeling bold, I slip my tongue inside his mouth, circling it around his. He growls low in his throat, his arms tightening around my waist, the fabric of my dress lifting the slightest bit, reminding me that yep, I’m still naked beneath the thin fabric.

It feels so good just kissing him. Imagine what might happen once he puts those skilled hands on my bare skin?