You Promised Me Forever (Forever Yours #1)(42)

“And you’re still interested,” Amanda says, pulling me from my thoughts.

“More like obsessed,” I mutter, immediately wishing I could take the words back.

But fuck it. If I can’t be my authentic self with this girl, then I have no chance of being authentic ever.





Obsessed.

The word has a bad reputation, am I right?

Stalkers are obsessed with the object of their so-called affection.

Psycho ex-girlfriends are obsessed with the one who wronged them.

Teenagers infatuated with the latest boy band are obsessed.

That amazing new book you just read with the swoony couple who should be together but aren’t? Yep, readers are definitely obsessed.

Being so completely focused on something until you can’t think of anything else is considered a bad thing. Unhealthy.

Wrong.

Yet I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the way Jordan just said he’s obsessed with me.

In fact, I like that he just used that word. I like it a lot. Because guess what?

I’m freaking obsessed with him too.

“You think I’m insane,” he says about a minute after he dropped my new favorite word.

“What? No. I don’t think you’re insane.” I wrinkle my nose, confused. “Why would you say that?”

“Obsessed—maybe that wasn’t the right word choice for how I feel about you.” He’s staring straight ahead, which is a good thing since he’s driving. But I can see the tension in his jaw. The firm line of his lips. He’s stressed out because he just admitted he’s obsessed with me.

It’s taking everything I have not to start bouncing in my seat.

“So you’re not obsessed with me?” I ask innocently.

“I don’t want to scare you off.” The tension eases from his face a little, though his jaw is still tight.

“You can’t scare me off,” I tell him, sounding way more confident than I feel.

He snorts.

Literally snorts.

“Yeah, right,” he mumbles.

“What do you mean by that?” I’m vaguely offended.

“Trust me.” He flicks his gaze toward me for a too-brief moment. “I can definitely scare you off.”

Why do we always have these sorts of conversations? It’s like we talk in circles. It’s also like we’re kids again, trying to outdo each other. We’re sort of ridiculous.

Yet I fall right into his trap anyway.

“Just try me,” I dare him, the smugness in my voice so very obvious.

Again, he glances in my direction, and I hold my breath, steel my spine just at the look I see on his beautiful face. Oh lordy, maybe he can scare me off—just by looking at me. “Want to hear about my plan?”

“What plan?”

“I call it my get Amanda back to my house and naked in my bed plan.” He says it casually, like it’s no big deal, that he wants to get me naked in his bed.

This is a huge deal. Yes, yes, I know I was the one who told him we needed to slow things down, but I don’t know.

Maybe I was wrong about that.

“Oh.” My voice is small, only because my brain has gone into immediate overload, thinking of all the fun things Jordan and I can do naked in his bed.

“See?” It’s his turn to sound smug. “I just scared you.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You really didn’t.”

“You up for it then?”

“You’re talking to me like we’re discussing a pickup game of basketball or whatever.” I roll my eyes, barely able to contain my smile. “You up for another round, bro? Want to meet later? Hash this thing out? Play a little one-on-one?”

He laughs, and the sound is joyous. Amazing. I love it when he laughs. He doesn’t do it often enough. “Well, Mandy? You up for another round? Wanna play a little one-on-one?”

Our gazes meet, hold. My entire body feels like it just caught fire.

“Yes,” I whisper.





He takes me to dinner first, most likely to torture me. Draw this thing out. He’s good at that. The torturing part.

He’s good at everything he does.

We go to a small Mexican restaurant in a quiet part of town, not too far from where he lives, but not in the swank area he took me to for our last date. This place is small and old, and almost every single booth and table is occupied. The lighting is dim, the atmosphere party-like with all the loud chatter and the music playing in the background. The smells that hit me the moment we walk inside make my stomach growl.

“Tuttle!” An older woman with ruby red lips and substantial curves approaches us, wrapping Jordan up in a big hug. He lets her hug him. In fact, he wraps his arms around her ample frame and squeezes tight. “It’s so good to see you,” she says. “We’ve missed you around here.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He disentangles himself from her arms and angles her so that she’s facing me. “Veronica, this is…Amanda.”

“Hi.” I smile at her, but she’s too busy turning to gape at Jordan, her mouth hanging open.

“This is Amanda?” Her voice lowers, her gaze cutting to mine. “Mandy?”

Oh God. For some reason, he’s talking about me to this Veronica? I can’t even begin to wrap my head around this. I brace myself, waiting for her animosity. If he’s talking about me, he can’t be telling her anything good.